Kail's Story
by Llandaryn
Summary: Kail Farlong is misunderstood bard. All she wants is the freedom to live her life as she pleases. But an attack on her home village shows that somebody else may have other plans for her. Sinister plans.
1. West Harbor

_1. West Harbor_

Not quite fully awake, Kail pulled the blanket around her shoulders and pressed herself further into the soft feather pillow on her bed. A light smile played across her lips as she remembered back to that afternoon; she could still see the grim frowns of the Mossfeld brothers as she, Amie and Bevil beat them in the Harvest Brawl. She wished she could have captured the moment as a painting to hang in her room. Perhaps she would paint it from memory. It would certainly be worth the effort to bring it out to gloat over the Mossfelds every year.

A bang from downstairs broke her out of her reverie, and she heard the sound of footsteps running along the corridor to her room. The door burst open, Bevil and Amie all but falling over each other. Bevil was wearing his chain shirt, and his sword was sheathed at his belt. Amie's hair was dishevelled, strands of it broken free of its tie, eyes wide with fear.

"Thank the gods you're safe," panted Bevil. "West Harbor is under attack. We have to get out there, now!"

"What? Who..." started Kail, his words cutting through the haziness of her mind.

"Dwarves, and some other things I don't recognise. But we don't have time to talk about it now. We have to help the militia!" said Bevil. He was all but bouncing on the spot, his hand constantly flitting to his sword hilt. Without another word Kail slid from the bed and threw open the clothes trunk. It was the work of seconds to slip on her leather shirt and stiffer hide boots. She grabbed her belt, two dagger scabbards firmly attached to it, and the material of her shirt cinched at her waist as she hastily buckled the belt. Finally she fastened her leather bracers around her forearms, and from the dresser by her bed she took her collection of throwing knives, securing them into their places hidden around her clothing.

"Lead the way," she nodded at Bevil. She followed her friend down the stairs, and Amie came at her heels. She could hear her friends' breathing; Bevil's deep breaths were calm, controlled. Amie was breathing quickly, her breaths shallower. The young woman was obviously frightened. Kail knew just how she felt. Her own heart was hammering inside her chest, and her whole head felt light. _Please don't let me faint_, she thought to herself.

She jumped and heard Amie squeal with fright as the outside door splintered in front of them. Two figures jumped through the wreckage. Though she didn't have much experience of Dwarves, she knew that these two were different then normal. Their skin was dark, their curses illegible as they sprang forward with their weapons held high. Bevil reacted by instinct, raising his sword to meet the closest of the fighters. Fear coursed through Kail's veins, but she slipped two of the balanced knives from her bracers, throwing them underhand at the second figure. The first knife flew wide, lodging itself in the door frame. The second found its mark, and a spurt of red blossomed from the Dwarf's throat where the knife met the hollow of his neck. He gurgled briefly, then collapsed into a pile.

She took two more of the small knives in her left hand and glanced towards the Dwarf who Bevil was fighting. She tensed her wrist, preparing to let the daggers fly as soon as her friend moved to give her a clear sight, but Amie was faster. Kail heard her speak the words of the spell, and several small missiles zipped from behind her, tracking unerringly towards the Dwarf. The missiles impacted the Dwarf's head and chest, and he too collapsed onto the floor. Bevil nodded at Amie as he stood panting, then nudged the body with his foot.

"Oh gods, I feel sick," Amie groaned, leaning back against the wall and closing her eyes.

"So do I," said Kail, swallowing the bile that she felt rising in her throat. She had never killed a humanoid before. Never had to. Trying to keep her mind busy, she turned the first corpse over, removed her knife from the Dwarf's throat and wiped the blood from the blade onto his shirt before replacing it inside her reinforced bracer. She retrieved the second knife from the doorway and looked out into the night. A horrific scene of carnage met her eyes; several houses across the river were afire, one warehouse fully engulfed by flames. Through the fire-lit gloom she could make out figures fighting each other like actors in a play.

"We have to get to the bridge. That's where we saw the militia," said Bevil, taking a step past her. She fought down a small pang of jealousy that he could be so calm, so... so brave! But then, he was part of the militia; skirmishing with the lizardlings in the Mere was common practise for them. She shot Amie a secretive frightened smile, which the other woman returned. Together they clasped hands, and followed Bevil out of the door.

They hurried down the dirt track to a red-clad figure tending groaning militiamen. The figure looked up as they approached, but did not stop his quiet chanting. He placed his hands on the temples of one of the downed fighters, and a blue glow enveloped them. The man on the floor began to twitch, and a moment later his eyes fluttered open.

"Thank you, Brother!" he said with conviction.

"Don't thank me. Thank Lathander," smiled the red-clothed man. Though his voice was soft and his eyes warm, he looked decidedly tired. Kail realised that he had probably been healing wounded villagers for quite some time. Just how long had she slept through this attack? And where was her father? As the newly healed man picked up his sword and ran off to the bridge, the priest turned towards the three of them.

"I'm glad you're all safe. We saw some of the Duergar heading your way, and Georg feared the worst. You should all make your way to him. He's down by the bridge, and I have a feeling he's going to need every able hand that he can rally," he said.

"Brother Merring, do you know where my father is?" asked Kail, allowing a hint of worry to enter her voice.

"I haven't seen your foster father since the attack began. For what it's worth, I hope he is safe. But you can't tarry. Here, take these," he said, handing each of them a pouch of swamp moss. "You know as well as I that this will stem serious bleeding and aid a body's repair."

"Thank you, Brother Merring," said Amie.

"Be safe!" Merring called after them.

They found Georg and a handful of the militia holding off half a dozen of the dark Dwarves who were attempting to cross the bridge. Bevil immediately threw himself into the fray, slicing through one Dwarf's neck before turning to another. From the corner of her eye, Kail saw one of the Dwarves head toward Amie, who was casting a missile spell. She quickly grabbed her reed-pipe flute from her belt pouch, closed her eyes, and put the instrument to her lips. Being careful to keep her breathing controlled she played a series of notes on the pipe, her fingers delicately dancing along the length of wood as she changed pitch and tempo. The Dwarves nearest her stopped still, their faces suddenly blank as their minds became enraptured with the tune. The Dwarf charging at Amie fell to a blow from Bevil's sword, and the militia quickly despatched the remaining few attackers.

"Remind me to thank Lucas for teaching that to you the next time I see him," Georg said, patting her on the shoulder as she finished her wordless song.

"I don't know how you stay calm enough to stand there playing that with people fighting all around you. I'd be constantly forgetting the tune, or trying to join in the fight," admitted Bevil. She choked back a laugh. He thought she was _calm?_ She was terrified! But she had to admit, Lucas had taught her well. When she closed her eyes she could almost _hear_ his voice prompting her; _"Let the music flow through you. Trust yourself, and trust the music. If it feels right to play a song a different way, then do it. These tunes I've been teaching you are nothing more than foundation stones. Build on them, and make the songs your own. That is the true goal of every minstrel."_

"Now that I know you're all well," said Georg, "I need you to gather up as many of the militia as you can find and have them meet me in the fields on the edge of the village. That's where they're coming from, so that's where we need to make our stand. By every god, we're going to make them sorry they came to West Harbor. Well? Hop to it!" Georg and the rest of the militia trotted off across the field, and Kail turned to survey the rest of the village.

"Master Tarmas must be close by. I can feel magic in the air," said Amie. Kail shot her friend a questioning glance. Her eyes were narrowed at the burning houses as she searched for her mentor. "Don't you feel it, Kail?"

"No, but I have only a little magical ability. You've always been more talented than me," she shrugged. Amie's head snapped up at a flare of light from the centre of the village, the wind whipping her blonde hair around her face.

"There!" she said as a second flash of light appeared. She hitched up her dress and ran towards the source of the magic at full pelt.

"Wait, Amie!" shouted Kail.

"Amie!" cried Bevil at the same time. They followed the young woman over the bridge, noticed her stop dead in her tracks, and looked ahead. Tarmas was surrounded by a purple glow which Kail recognised as a magical shield. Opposite him was a strange humanoid creature, its grey-green skin stretched taut over its whole body. Black hair stuck up wildly from its head, and black eyes flashed angrily at Tarmas. The creature was surrounded by a similar magical shield.

"Hold on, master, we can help!" Amie called, springing forward to Tarmas' side.

"No, stay back, all of you!" shouted Tarmas. His brows were knitted in concentration, a sheen of sweat on his face, and he didn't remove his gaze from the enemy mage. Amie stood defiantly by her master's side as she cast the last of her missile spells. One of them hit the creature, but the rest were deflected by its shield. Kail felt her heart skip a beat as the enemy mage turned its head towards Amie and fixed the young woman with a malicious predatory grin.

"So, the whelp seeks to test herself," it rasped. "How pathetic." With a wave of the hand the mage sent a collection of fiery missiles hurtling towards Amie. Kail tried to move, to force her legs to step forward, to force her hands to make the gestures for a counter-spell, but she could only stand and watch in fear as Amie was engulfed by flames. The young woman shrieked in agony, then crumpled to the floor and was still. "I am done wasting my time here," the mage said. It shimmered for a moment, became insubstantial, then disappeared. In its place spawned three giant spiders, and Kail let her fear and frustration consume her as she began hurling her knives at the arachnids' multi-faceted eyes. As she vented her fury at the chittering creatures, Lucas' words came unbidden into her mind once again.

_"First, we have to address your little... problem. Daeghun tells me that Georg can't teach you. That you balk at fighting. That until you are pushed far enough, you won't react. That when you finally do react, you... lose yourself. I'm not saying that's a bad thing, mind. Some of the best fighters I've known are berserkers. Battle frenzy does not make you a bad person; just the opposite, in fact. It means you are more in-touch with the more primitive, primal aspects of Human nature. This is where your strength comes from, and I am going to teach you to channel that strength a little at a time, to use it as a tool, to shape it, to control it so that it does not control you. The first thing I'm going to teach you is that fighting is not all about hacking at your opponent with an axe. I'm going to make you better than that. I'm not going to make you into a fighter. I'm going to make you into a survivor. So what do you say? Will you give me a chance to teach you?"_

The world swam into view as Kail opened her eyes. She was kneeling on the floor in front of a body, and she barely recognised the charred corpse before her as Amie. The dead woman's clothes were blackened with soot, and what little skin was visible was blistered and burnt. She felt a hand touch her shoulder.

"Are you... yourself?" asked Bevil, slight hesitation in his voice. She couldn't blame him. "I just haven't seen you like that in a long time. I thought... I thought Lucas had taught you how to control it." Beside him, Tarmas snorted.

"Control it? Boy, it's in her blood. You can teach a wolf to do tricks and take food from your hand, and given enough time it can even appear to be domesticated. But there is always a wolf lurking inside, waiting to drop the pet dog act. I said from the very beginning that all this bard nonsense wouldn't do her any good. She should have been embracing her abilities, exploring her heritage, not hiding it behind songs and flourishing knives."

Kail listened dispassionately as Tarmas went on to complain about Amie's foolishness. She kept her eyes on Amie's body, but felt nothing. It was always like this, when the battle frenzy took her. All of her emotion spent at once, draining her of the ability to feel. Lucas had tried his best, and it was true that he had managed to help her face her fears about fighting. But despite all that he had taught her, she still felt like she was walking along a knife-edge ridge at times. _Barbarian_, the other children had called her when she was younger, before Amie and Bevil befriended her. It was a name that still hurt, occasionally. But not now. Right now she felt nothing. She had a task to perform, and she needed to complete it.

"We'll mourn Amie later. Right now we need to finish finding the militia to make a stand with Georg, or more will die," she said. She saw Bevil flinch at the coldness in her voice, though Tarmas merely nodded thoughtfully. Kail ignored them both for a moment as she retrieved her throwing knives from the spider corpses. Even in the midst of blood-lust, most of her weapons had hit their marks. Lucas always praised her good aim.

"You two finish gathering the militia, then. I'm going to find Georg in case he needs my assistance," said Tarmas. He strode off, and they heard him mumbling _'fool girl'_ under his breath.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Bevil asked again. She nodded, and let him lead the way towards the fields. The militiamen were not hard to find, scattered as they were. Some were too far gone to be saved, but together they were able to help half a dozen with their injuries. Kail was about to suggest that they find Georg when a dancing shadow in the corner of her eye caught her attention. One of the enemy attackers, a squat, dark Dwarf, was standing beside the ruins of a burning barn. He clutched at his stomach as blood and viscera spilled out onto the floor. When the pair approached, his face turned to a sneer.

"I killed three of you weak surfacers today. Your entire village will lie in ruins before we are done here tonight, and your corpses will feed the fires that will be warning beacons to the rest of your surfacer-kin," rasped the Dwarf. Kail blinked, and in one swift movement slipped one of her daggers from its belt sheath and plunged it into the Dwarf's throat, cutting through the cartilage of his windpipe and severing his spinal cord. She stepped back, pulling her dagger clear as the Dwarf fell forward.

"Did you have to do that?" asked Bevil in a hoarse whisper. "He was dying. He couldn't have hurt us." Kail bent down to wipe her dagger on the dead man's shirt.

"Should we show them the same mercy they showed Amie?" she asked calmly. No doubt her father would not approve. He would probably have kept the Dwarf alive, tried to pry answers from him, try to discern their motives, their numbers. But Daeghun was not here. She was. Their numbers and motives didn't matter. It didn't matter if there was one, or one thousand. She would fight until there were no more, or until she fell.

"Sometimes you really frighten me," Bevil admitted as they turned away from the corpse. She merely smiled.

They found Georg and the militia crouched in the tall grass of the fields, watching the forest as they tensely shifted their weapons. Kail crouched down beside Georg, who acknowledged her with a toss of his head without taking his gaze from the trees before them.

"Tarmas told me about Amie. We will all miss her, and the others killed by these bastards," he said quietly. She nodded, waiting for him to continue. "We've seen a lot of movement out there. I think they're massing for an attack. I mean this as no slur on you, but do you think you can control yourself? I don't doubt your... effectiveness in combat, but after that time you lost your temper and almost set Daeghun's house alight with that dragon-fire..."

He didn't have to continue. He was right to be worried. Tarmas had told her, after the incident, that people like her, people with tiny traces of dragon blood in their veins, often manifested powers of their draconic ancestors. Dragon Disciples, he called them, though she had no intention of becoming one, dragon-fire or no dragon-fire.

"Don't worry. I will stay back," she agreed. Later it would probably hurt that he didn't trust her to keep control of herself, but right now it was still too soon to start feeling again. She was still dead inside, still numb. Everything seemed easier this way.

A shrill cry came from the tree line and a stream of dark Dwarves, and other creatures with spikes all over their bodies, poured forth. They rolled across the fields as a wave of death, and as they drew near Georg sprang up, the rest of the militia following him to meet the charge. True to her word, Kail kept out of the fighting. She watched Bevil and the others hack at the enemies, then took out her flute and played one of the songs that Lucas had taught her.

Lost in her world of wordless tunes, she had no idea how long she played for. Wave after wave of invaders charged the village, and each time they were repelled, though not without losses. She kept her eyes closed, and managed to ignore the screams of the injured and the dying around her. The stillness of her soul and the dancing notes of the songs were the only things in the world.

"Daeghun!" Kail's eyes flew open as Georg shouted her father's name. She lost her rhythm and the song faltered. At the same time something inside her went _pop_. She felt her heart beat again. Fear, exhaustion and relief washed over her, and it was all she could do to remain standing. Her father was standing at the far end of the field, accompanied by two rangers. The three of them were shooting arrows into the line of Dwarves, and most fell before they reached the militia.

"That's the last of them," said her father. "Now let's see how many of ours we can claim from death's clutches." Georg nodded and began organising the militiamen. Brother Merring hurried forward and immediately began healing those with more serious injuries. "I am glad to see you are well, daughter. Not all have been so lucky," her father said with an openly appraising glance. "I hear you lost a young friend."

"I'll mourn Amie when we've finished dousing the fires," she replied, bowing her head in respect for her friend.

"That is for the best," her father agreed.

"What in the hells were those things?" Georg asked gruffly. Brother Merring broke away from his inspection of a villager's broken leg to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Duergar, dark Dwarves. The others were Bladelings. Their kind are not from around here," he replied.

"But what did they want with West Harbor?"

"I'm afraid Lathander doesn't illuminate all mysteries for me," said Merring, placing his hands on the villager's leg once more. "We must use our own resources to find those answers. But I do believe they were looking for something of great value to them."

"Kail... come here for a moment," said Daeghun, gesturing for her to step away from the others. Once at a safe distance he examined her briefly with his eyes, weighing her up. As an Elf, he was one of the shortest adults in the village. But she was not much taller than him, and he barely had to raise his head to look her in the eyes. "I need you to do something for me." Though he was not an expressive man, she heard the agitation in his voice, and that worried her. Very little could phase Daeghun.

"What do you need me to do?" she asked immediately. He nodded imperceptibly, and she got the impression that she had just passed some sort of test, or confirmed a decision he had already made.

"I need you to go to the swamp ruins and retrieve something I left there long ago. I believe it may have something to do with this attack, and I would prefer to find it before our attackers do," he said.

"The swamp!? Aren't those ruins infested with lizardlings?" she asked as one of her eyebrows quirked up in surprise.

"Yes, which is why you aren't going alone." He turned to the militia. "Bevil!" The young man trotted over bearing an armful of bandages. "You will accompany my daughter to the swamp ruins." Kail almost grinned. Bevil's surprised expression was a mirror of her own.

"But the lizardlings..."

"Won't be a problem for the two of you," finished Daeghun. "You have both fought admirably tonight, and I have no doubts that you will be safe enough as long as you stay together. Now don't tarry here. You know the way to the swamp. Hurry back as soon as you have what I want. It is in a chest in the largest room of the ruins. Go now."

Bevil sighed as Daeghun returned to Georg's side. "No offence, but your father sometimes creeps me out." Kail rolled her shoulders, loosening the tenseness in her neck and shrugging at the same time.

"He's just concerned. Are you ready to go now? I don't want to spend the whole night trudging around in the swamps," she said. Bevil sighed again, but hurried to give the bandages to Brother Merring, then lead the way to the swamps.


	2. Swamps and Shards

_2. Swamps and Shards_

"I don't like this. I don't like this one bit," said Bevil.

"That's the third time you've said that since we left the village. What in particular don't you like? The smell, the mosquitos, or hordes of ravenous swamp beetles?" Kail asked. She flicked her head from side to side as she walked, as much to discourage the biting insects as to get a clear view of the swamp around them.

"Swamp smells, mosquitos and hordes of ravenous swamp beetles are all in a day's work for the militia," said Bevil quietly. "This is different. It feels like we're being watched. I don't like it."

"I feel like that every day of my life," she snorted in wry amusement.

"But that's because you _are_ watched every day of your life. I mean, everybody is curious. You and Daeghun go off for weeks at a time, and we don't hear from you. The next minute you're back and acting as if you've never been gone. Plus there's all your 'special' training. I _know_ Georg is interested in your progress, but you never really talk about it with anyone. Even Amie and I..." He let his sentence trail off, the words unsaid. Kail fought down a pang of grief that threatened to overwhelm her. Amie, her wonderful, intelligent, caring friend, was gone. Forever. Desperately she cast around for another subject, trying to fight back the tears that welled in her eyes.

"Daeghun and I usually just went hunting, or to visit his friends amongst the Wild Elves," she explained.

"Hunting? For weeks at a time?" Bevil asked in disbelief.

"Well, not just hunting. He teaches me things. About plants and animals, about languages and far-away places. And sometimes, when he went off hunting alone, I'd just lie in the camp listening... listening for songs. Waiting for them to come to me," she said slowly.

"Oh. Is that something Lucas taught you to do? I always wondered how you came up with your songs. I thought they were just tunes that he taught you to sing," Bevil prompted. He tsked in frustration as he misplaced his foot and it sank several inches into a pool of rank swamp water.

"Some of them are," she said with a shrug. "Others are basic tunes that he teaches me, and I expand on them. Some I listen for. Lucas says that everything has a song, if you know how to listen for it. I think I'm a long way off that, though."

"And the singing... does it help with... you know, your temper?" he asked cautiously. She smiled, punching him playfully on the arm.

"It's not temper, silly. It's more like... well... being a spring. I feel like I can be pushed, and pulled, and most of the time I will just bounce back into place. But if a spring is pulled too far, it doesn't spring back, it snaps. When that happens, I feel everything inside me pouring out. Not just anger, but everything. And when it's over I have nothing left inside me." She felt a faint blush suffuse her cheeks as she described her reaction to her friend. Everybody skirted around the subject of her 'temper' as if merely mentioning it might cause her to lose control. But it wasn't like that at all. "Anyway, Lucas helped me to understand and identify why it happens. He said that it's just the... err... 'more civilised' part of my brain switching off, allowing me to touch something that most Humans have lost contact with. Something that Humans used to be. A place inside all of us that is neither good nor evil, but is merely raw, animal strength."

"Lucas sure does seem to know a lot," said Bevil, obviously impressed. "You wouldn't think it to look at him. He's such a benign, unassuming old man."

"He's not _that_ old," she smiled. "He _has_ known my father for decades though. They used to travel together, and my mother too."

"Hss!" Bevil exhaled and drew his sword as two lizardlings ran towards them. Kail unsheathed her daggers, not willing to risk losing her precious throwing knives to the swamp if they missed their mark. Bevil closed on the first lizardling, and she rushed past him to meet the second. Luckily, the lizardmen weren't particularly strong. When they resumed their journey along the narrow path, the marshes of the Mere were slowly claiming another two corpses.

o - o - o - o - o

"This must be where my father hid what we're looking for. It's the only room we haven't searched yet," whispered Kail as she peered around the doorway.

"They might be a problem," Bevil whispered back. She merely nodded. 'They' were half a dozen lizardlings crouched on the floor in front of the biggest lizardman that either of them had ever seen. He was leading them in some sort of prayer to a stone spirit, mentioned something about battle and victory.

"Do you mind if I try talking to them first?" she asked after another minute of scrutinising them.

"Hey, if anybody can talk them into leaving us alone, it's you. Remember that time you talked Lewy Jones out of telling our parents when we pushed the Mossfelds into his pigsty?" he grinned. She gave him a fleeting smile at the memory. They had been little more than children. How long ago had it been? Ten years; it had happened just after her thirteenth birthday. Wyl, Ward and Webb had been teasing Amie about something, and she and Bevil snuck up on them and pushed them into the sty. Amie... _No!_ She had a task to complete. There would be time for tears later. She stepped forward, motioning for Bevil to stay close.

The door creaked fully open, and the big lizardling turned towards them. "A warm blood? Here?" it hissed gutterally. "Your presence offends the Ssstone God!" Kail took a deep breath, drawing herself up to her full height -- which wasn't saying much -- and placing her hands upon her daggers. She felt an air of unwavering confidence enter her as a tangible force, and in her head she chanted the mantra that Lucas had taught her. _I am everything. I am the world. Nothing is more important than me. Only my words will touch you. You will __**believe**_.

"The Stone God sent me here," she said. Her voice resounded around the room, crystal clear and empowered by her authority.

"Why would the Ssstone God send a warm blood to usss?" asked the lizardling, narrowing its eyes at her. It didn't even seem to see Bevil behind her. She ignored the other lizardlings for a moment, concentrating all of her efforts on the leader. Her heart beat steadily in her chest as she regulated her reactions. She lifted her chin, managing to look down at the lizardling even though it was far taller than her. She exhaled slightly, letting her nostrils flare, meeting the creature's gaze with her cool, slate-grey eyes.

"**I** am an incarnation of the Stone God_._"_ I am. I am. I am_, she thought. _The taste of the earth, the throw of the spear, the smell of the swamp. I am He. _"You would do well to fear me," she said imperiously. Behind her Bevil made a quiet choking sound, but she ignored him. She was the Stone God. Puny warmbloods were beneath her.

"Pleassse forgive us, mighty one. We will leave you in peace," said the lizardling at last with a low bow of acquiescence. "And pleassse, give our regards to the Ssstone God when you return to him." Kail kept her head raised and her unseeing gaze forward as the lizardlings hastily filed past her. Bevil stuck his head around the door for long enough to see them disappear down a corridor.

"Are you crazy?" he asked a little too loudly. "'_I am an incarnation of the Stone God. You would do well to fear me_'?!" She let out a deep breath, and immediately the air of confidence, the certain knowledge that she _was_, left her body. A slow, wide grin crept across her face. She rarely gave public performances; she played for herself, not for others. But sometimes it was nice to see the effects of her performances on others.

"Crazy? Of course. Haven't you heard the rumours?" she asked, winking at him. He snorted, and turned to survey the room. Simply put, it was a mess. Various parts of the walls had collapsed with the weight of the ages pressing in on them. Columns lay in pieces on the floor, all but one of the stone altars reduced to rubble.

In one corner of the room stood a heavy wooden chest and it... it called to her. As soon as her eyes fell on it she felt her pulse race, her heart beating loudly, adrenaline coursing through her body. She approached it cautiously, examining it as she knelt down before it. It bore the tell-tale marks of an attempted forced opening. Attempted, and failed. Obviously the lizardlings had been unable to pry it open with their primitive spears. She hastily removed the key that her father had given her from her belt pouch, and pushed it into the lock. When it clicked open she lifted the lid, the rusty hinges squealing in protest. In the bottom of the chest lay a pile of cloth and sacking, which she removed and placed across her knees. Slowly peeling back the layers, she came at last to what they protected; a fine length of broken silver. Her heart beat even faster as she touched the silver piece, and she closed her eyes. Blood rushed to her head, and she placed a steadying hand on the chest. _How can a piece of silver make me feel like this?_

"That's what we risked our lives out here for? Cyric's eyes, Daeghun can do his own blasted quests from now on," Bevil exclaimed loudly behind her. She startled, letting out a squeak of surprise. "Are we done here? Can we go?" he asked. She nodded. The agitation had returned to his voice, and she knew how he felt. Now all she needed was some answers.

o - o - o - o - o

Kail watched Bevil's retreating back, and gave her father's passive face a brief glance.

"He was a big help in the swamp. A little word of encouragement wouldn't go amiss, you know," she admonished him gently. Daeghun's dark green eyes bored into hers, and she shifted slightly where she stood. Even though she was a grown woman he could sometimes, with a single look, make her feel like a child again.

"Is that what I taught you? To by your actions seek approval from others?"

"No," she admitted. "But I don't need approval. Bevil does better with an occasional word of thanks. You didn't have to send him away."

"It is best not to rely too long on somebody of Starling blood," said Daeghun cryptically. "Regardless, what I have to say is for your ears alone."

"This?" she asked, holding up the silver. Her father nodded. "I can feel magic inside it."

"Odd. It's never shown any signs of magic before." Daeghun's brows furrowed for a moment in thought. "It is one of a pair found after the battle in West Harbor, long ago."

"This is the battle between the Neverwinter forces and the King of Shadows?" she asked. Lucas had regaled her with tales of the battle, though there hadn't been any survivors to verify the stories. Even Tarmas only knew a little about what happened.

"The very same. I kept one shard, and gave the other to my half-brother, Duncan. We had them examined by a wizard in Neverwinter, but he could find nothing magical about them."

"I have an _uncle_?" she asked in surprise. In all the time that she had known him, her father had never mentioned having a brother. Then again, Lucas had never mentioned anything about it either, nor anything about her mother, though he admitted he had known her well.

"Of sorts. Duncan is my half-brother, and, like Bevil, he has his faults. Unfortunately, we cannot choose our kin."

"So Duncan has this other... shard?" she asked.

"Yes. And I need you to take this to him, have it tested again."

"What!? You want me to _leave_? After everything that's just happened?" She felt her eyebrows rise of their own volition. How could he ask her to leave West Harbor? For better or worse, it was the place she considered home.

"Kail, I wouldn't be asking you unless I thought it was necessary. I suspect this 'artifact' is the _reason_ for the attack in the first place. Our attackers were not here for riches, and they didn't care about us unless we stood in their way. I have no tangible evidence, but my instinct tells me that the longer this shard remains in the village, the more at risk we will all be," he explained.

"I guess I can understand that," she said guiltily. "It's just... I've never been away from West Harbor. Not without you. I wouldn't know where to go, what to do."

"Daughter," said Daeghun drily, "there is no youngster in this village more capable than you. I have taught you about the Mere and the land, how to stay alive alone. And don't try to deny it, because I heard him telling you stories on many occasions -- Lucas has taught you what you need to know to survive in a city. And a city is where you are going. Duncan owns an inn named 'The Sunken Flagon' in the Docks district of Neverwinter. There you will be safe."

"Neverwinter!" she whispered. It was so far away! "But what if those things, those... creatures, are still out there, looking for this?" she asked, holding up the shard.

"Do not worry. I have created a screen of activity. Your actions this evening have been hidden from sight, and I have let it be known that you are travelling the High Road to Neverwinter. Instead you will travel through the Mere, to a town named Highcliff. I know for a fact that The Double Eagle is docked there, and her Captain -- Flinn, by name -- is a good friend. Tell him that I sent you, and he will take you to Neverwinter. The attackers will not be able to find you on the open water, and if Tymora is smiling on you then you may make it to the city before they do."

"So that's it? Goodbye, good luck, see you when I see you?" she asked, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. Daeghun raised his hand to lift her chin, searching her eyes with his own. It was a surprising gesture from his normally aloof behaviour.

"I would go with you, if I could. But the ways of Humans are often confusing to me, and I dislike cities. You will fit in far better than I. Besides, my skills will be better suited here if our attackers come back."

"I understand," she said, bowing her head. He gave her a rare, brief smile.

"Good. Now it would be best if you packed your bag and made your farewells brief. The longer you wait, the greater the danger." She nodded, and quickly embraced her father in a hug before he could protest. He patted her shoulder reassuringly, and she pulled away, turning to the house that had been her home for the twenty three years of her life.

o - o - o - o - o

Running through a last mental checklist, Kail walked over the bridge to West Harbor and wondered if she would ever cross it again. She shook her head at her pointless musings. Of course she would see it again. She was going to deliver a shard to Daeghun's half-brother in Neverwinter, then she would be back. Now, checklist.

_Spare clothes. Spare throwing knives. Leather scraps for patching. Herbs for healing. Bandages for... bandaging. I hope I won't need them. Tough-as-rocks yet surprisingly nutritous travel rations. Flasks of water. Whetstone. Groundsheet and sleeping roll. Charcoal, small ink pot, blank sheets of parchment. Flint striker. Tinderbox. Flute. Small pouch of coins. This is everything that sums up my life. Well, here I am, world. Kail Farlong - slightly bewildered minstrel and wanderer._

She stopped walking to survey the remains of West Harbor, laid out before her like a patchwork quilt. Most of the buildings were still standing, though some were so damaged by fire that nobody would be living in them again. A few villagers were mulling around in the clearing, others were crying over sheet-covered bodies. She plucked up her nerve and strode towards the closest figure, throwing her arms around him and hugging him fiercely.

"I'm going to miss you so much," said Bevil. "It's not going to be the same around here without you... and Amie."

"I'll miss you too, you big softie," she said, ignoring the tears that streamed from her eyes, tickling her cheeks as they splashed onto his chain shirt. She gave him a final squeeze and then released him from her grip, gesturing at a covered body nearby. "Amie?" she asked. He nodded.

She left his side, crouching down beside the sheet that covered the burned remains of the young woman, and her tears flowed more strongly. From her belt she took one of her daggers, then peeled back the white sheet to expose Amie's head. Her eyes had been closed, and despite the burns she looked... peaceful. Kail swallowed, then used her dagger to cut a lock of Amie's blonde hair that escaped the flames. She put the lock into a small pouch, and put the pouch into the bottom of her backpack. No doubt Brother Merring had blessed Amie's body according to Lathander's rites, but she wanted to say goodbye to her friend in her own way.

The Brother was the next person she sought out. Easily visible in his vivid red robes, he stuck out like a sore thumb in the dark Mere village. He had finished tending the most seriously wounded of the villagers, and was now settling in to the long chore of healing minor injuries. With a slight pang of guilt she wished she could stay to help him. But her own healing abilities were extremely limited, and she doubted she had enough ability to do more than fix a broken leg or two. A green bard was no substitute for a priest with years of experience. Merring stood up as she approached, helping one of the militiamen to his feet.

"Kail, I'm glad I got a chance to see you before you left. I heard you're travelling to Neverwinter, and I wanted to tell you that there is a temple of Lathander there. If you are ever in need, you can seek out Dawnmaster Natrisse. Just tell her I sent you," he said as the militiaman wandered away dazily.

"Thank you, Brother Merring," she said, chewing her lip for a moment in indecision. "Can I ask you a question?" He nodded for her to continue. "Why do you keep trying to teach Harbormen about Lathander? Most of us worship Chauntea."

"It's refreshing to have somebody come out and ask that," he smiled, leading her down the road. "As farmers, Harbormen rely most on Chauntea for blessings of the land, and the growth of their crops. But Lathander teaches us about spiritual growth. When I first came here, I was impressed by the unfaltering, down-to-earth efficiency of the Harbormen. You people see a task that needs doing and do it immediately without complaint, whereas many others would still be arguing about the best way to start doing it. And I wanted to bring a little light into this dark corner of the Mere."

"I can understand that," she nodded thoughtfully, watching the deep green grass pass beneath her feet. Brother Merring clicked his tongue, then sighed in defeat.

"You could use a little illumination yourself, you know," he said quietly.

"Me?"

"I've kept my counsel on this for a long time, but since you are leaving, I feel that I can speak a little more freely. I don't believe Daeghun shows you as much warmth and compassion as a father should, and it worries me that every day you grow a little more like him. A little colder. A little less open."

Kail blinked in surprise. For once in her life she was speechless. She didn't feel cold, or closed. Just the opposite! She felt like a roiling soup of emotion. She admitted as much to Merring, who merely gave a small chuckle.

"Ah, Kail. Know that no matter how you feel inside, the face you show to the outside world is one of quiet confidence, bordering on aloof. You carry yourself as one far older, with an air that suggests you know a lot more than you let on. And whilst that sort of confidence will serve you well in cities like Neverwinter, it's not a good idea to keep yourself continually closed off to the world. If you can, every once in a while, let a little light into your soul. I think you'll find it worth the effort."

"Err... thank you. I think," she said. Had Merring just given her an insult, or a compliment? He smiled, patted her on the shoulder, and wandered away to heal another injury. The hard life of a priest was never done, it seemed.

She spied Tarmas, standing in the shadow of a crumbling house and glaring at the happenings around him. He didn't even acknowledge her when she stood beside him and glanced around for the source of his consternation.

"I'm sorry. About Amie," she said at last. "We tried to stop her. We just wanted to help."

"Not as sorry as I am," he grumbled. "That girl had talent. I plucked her from the swamp mud and taught her to use her mind... only to see her throw her life away in a foolish gesture of loyalty. Fool girl." Kail said nothing. Amie had been doing what she thought was right. She would never have been able to live with herself if Tarmas was killed while she stood by doing nothing. That was why she had joined in the attack on the mage. And Tarmas knew it. "And now look at me. One student dead, and the other gallivanting off to Neverwinter on some gods-forsaken adventure."

"You're from Neverwinter," she replied. "Is there anything you can tell me that will make my journey easier?" Tarmas sniffed and turned to face her.

"Yes. I can give you advice. First, use that head of yours as something more than a shield. Even the famous thick-headed Harborman skulls are no match for a lizardling's spear. Second, as soon as you leave the Mere, have a long soak in a bath. The creatures that did this," he waved his arms at the destruction before them, "will have a harder time following you if you don't go tracking the stink of the swamp all over the Sword Coast." She fought down a grin that threatened to overwhelm her face.

"Why do you even bother, Tarmas? You complain about the smell, you complain about the children, you complain about the weather... what keeps you here?"

"You really are a Harborman," he said laconically. "You people have the same subtlety commonly possessed by raging barbarian hordes. Suffice it to say, city life does not become me. I can do my research better out here, and if teaching a few backwater village children how to read and write is the only price I have to pay, then so be it. And now I've no doubt Daeghun would have something to say about your standing here gossiping with me all night. Be on your way, and remember what I said about using your head -- you might just survive longer than Amie."

With his speech apparently over he crossed his arms over his chest and resumed his tireless glaring at the village around him. Kail pursed her lips, but decided silence was wiser. She left him alone, but glanced back at him as she rounded the side of a house; his glaring seemed only half-hearted now, and he looked sad.

"Oh! I'm sorry my dear, I didn't see you coming," said Retta Starling, Bevil's mother. The elder woman had been marching at a fast pace and collided into Kail, almost knocking her off her feet.

"It's no problem," she said, hefting her backpack into a more comfortable position. Retta wrung her hands nervously in front of her. "Is something wrong?"

"Well, Bevil just told me about your leaving, and I was wondering if I could ask a favour of you," said Retta.

"Of course."

"You remember Lorne? Bevil's brother? My eldest? He went off to fight for Neverwinter in the war against Luskan, and we haven't heard from him since. I was wondering... could you maybe ask around about him a little, when you get to Neverwinter? And send word back if you do? Even if it's word of his death, it would be some measure of closure for me," Retta explained with a weak smile.

"Of course, Retta. I promise I'll look into it for you. And if Lorne's still alive I will find him for you, and give him your love," she promised, patting the other woman's hands comfortingly. Retta gave her a gracious smile before scuttling off around the corner. Kail took a deep breath, steeling herself. Before her was the path leading out of West Harbor, and beside it was a lone, imposing figure. _Sure. One last farewell. Nothing different,_ she thought. Still, it took her a moment to work up the courage to step forward.

She had always been slightly in awe of Georg Redfell. He was tall, strong, and commanded an aura of authority. Whether he barked an order or made a gentle suggestion, those around him practically tumbled over themselves to obey. It didn't even seem to occur to them to question _why_ they obeyed. It went without saying. Georg knew best. Listen to Georg, stay alive. Ignore Georg and end up as spear-fodder for the lizardlings. Lucas had once told her that Georg was a noble without airs, graces or titles. What that meant she wasn't exactly sure, but that Lucas approved of him just made him all the more awe-inspiring to her.

As she approached Georg he appraised her openly, as he would any young militiaman under his wing. She could see him assessing her, see his eyes taking in her short frame, the daggers sheathed at her belt, the cut of her clothes that lessened the restriction of her movement, the dark grey cloak hanging from her shoulders, and the backpack resting against the small of her back. When she stopped in front of him she had to resist the urge to salute.

"I don't approve of him sending you out there alone, but I can't spare a single man to escort you right now. Can you at least tell me where you're going?" he asked.

"I'm going to find that swamp-elf you're always telling me about," she said, giving him the sweetest smile she could muster. "I figure if I can actually see it, and compose a song about it, I'll have something that will put my name on every musician's lips from here to Calimshan."

Georg rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Those stories are going to be the death of me. But listen, I want to talk to you seriously for a moment." She nodded, the smile fading from her face. "The road through the Mere is more dangerous now than ever before. The patrols from Fort Locke have stopped, and I don't know why. There are whole lizardmen tribes out there just itching to carve themselves some new territory, and where you get lizardmen you get swamp beetles. What's worse, we've had reports of undead creatures deeper in the Mere. Stick to the road. Don't wander off."

"Thanks for the advice," she replied. "And don't worry, I have no intention of leaving the road."

"Good." He eyed her for a moment. "One last thing. Be careful around the men out there. We Harbormen stick together, and stick up for our own. But there's many a man out there who... well... let's just say that with the way you carry yourself, you may attract a lot of unwanted attention." She felt her eyebrows rise in surprise, and silently mouthed the words _'the way I carry myself'_. "The way you walk, move, even fight; it's like you're making a personal challenge to the world, like you want it to throw everything it can at you, just so you can live through it and say 'I survived'. Like I said, that kind of thing can get you the wrong attention." Her mouth formed an 'o' of horror at his words. She didn't _really_ move like that, did she?

"Georg, I'm not some young village maiden who's never seen the outside world. I _have_ travelled quite a bit, you know," she said at last.

"Ha!" he scoffed. "Traipsing off to visit the Wild Elves with Daeghun doesn't count as travelling. For a start, you had him with you. And whilst I admit that I don't know much more about them than the non-Wild kind, I _do_ know they're a mote more civilised than a lot of Humans claim to be. And no," he continued as she tried to interject, "foraying into the woods with your old friend Lucas doesn't count as travelling either. We're talking about cities here, girl. Great big things full of all sorts of dark, unsavoury, opportunistic, malicious..."

"I get it, Georg," she said drily. The man really _could_ lay it on thick.

"Hmph. Well, good. Just trying to drive the point home." He placed both his hands on her shoulders, leaning down slightly to peer into her eyes. "Keep moving. Keep your head down. Don't be a target." She nodded, and he clapped her shoulder and stepped aside, making room for her to move past on the narrow road.

She took a first step past the familiar 'Welcome to West Harbor' sign, and then another. Each step became a little easier, and each step took her further away from the quiet noise of the village. But she did not look back. _A clean break. A clean break is best. Cut the ties and move on. Don't be held back. Don't be held back._

Telling herself that did not stop the tears from falling.


	3. Shades of Grey

_3. Shades of Grey_

The swamp around her was both familiar and strange. It was typical of all swamp-lands of the Mere; dark, damp, and surprisingly humid. To outsiders, she knew, it was an oppressive place to be avoided. To those who called it home, however, the Mere was life. It had its own special beauty, and children born to its rich, waterlogged soil, grew up strong and steadfast. And fierce. They had shown their attackers just how fierce Harbormen could be.

She stopped to briefly examine the map that Daeghun had given her. It was a simple map, drawn large, and even in the failing light of the evening she could chart her progress. Behind her, several miles behind her now, was West Harbor. On the road some way ahead was the universal sign for an inn. By the side of it, in large black letters, were the words "Weeping Willow". She would make it to the inn, rest there for the night, then continue her journey through the Mere by the relative safety of the day. Before putting the map away she traced her finger along the red line that denoted the road, following it from her position in the Mere to Highcliff. From there she tracked around the coast to Neverwinter, and then she sighed. This was going to be a long trip.

As she walked down the damp, squelching trail, she found it harder and harder to concentrate. The Mere sang to her, called to her in its strange, chilling voice. She wanted to sit down, to listen, to discover the song it was trying to sing, but she knew that she needed to stay alert. If she let her concentration waver she would leave herself open to attack. "Keep moving. Keep your head down. Don't be a target," she said aloud. Her words seemed to break through the Mere's spell over her, and she smiled. "Thanks Georg."

She jumped in fright at a raucous shriek from the side of the path, her hands instinctively flying to her daggers. When the expected attack was not forthcoming she crept slowly towards the source of the sounds, her body tensed to spring aside. There, half submerged in the wetlands of the Mere, was a fledgling crow. It was slowly sinking into the mud, screeching frantically as the dank water claimed it. Kail leaned forward, tilting dangerously over the swamp as she fished the bird out of the water with her free hand. It immediately stopped screaming, struggling instead to jump free of her grasp.

"Shh," she said, soothing the creature as she lifted the corner of her cloak and used it to gently wipe some of the heavy mud from the bird's feathers. Once it was a little cleaner she examined it more closely, and noticed a deep gash across its breast. She looked up into the trees, but could see no sign of a nest, nor any other crows. "So, you walked here and something attacked you. Then you got stuck in the Mere," she said. The young animal tilted its head at her words as if listening to what she said. She smiled and, on a whim, closed both of her hands around the bird and chanted the words for a minor healing spell.

She could almost hear her father's words in her mind. _A pointless waste of your energy_. "And you're right," she sighed aloud. "What in Shaundakul's name am I doing?"

"It looks to me like you're healing a creature in need. Not a bad thing to do," said a deep male voice from behind her. Her eyes widened in alarm. How was it possible that somebody had snuck up on her? The road had been perfectly clear before she turned her attention to the crow, and nobody could have traversed the Mere, not without making a lot of sound. Slowly, so as not to frighten the bird or provoke an attack from whoever was behind her, she turned around. And then she blinked.

The man in front of her wore a dark grey cloak that covered almost his entire body. She could see the dark fabric of his shirt only as an indistinct haze. His hood was drawn up around his head, though in the faint light she thought she could make out the basic contours of his face. But what _really_ drew her attention was the reason she hadn't heard him approach; his feet were several inches above the ground. Kail licked her lips, trying to work moisture back into her dry mouth.

"Should I bow?" she asked at last. The man chuckled quietly, a sound of the wind whispering through trees.

"Please don't. Having worshippers bow has never really been my style. Nor has having them cower in fear, so don't do that either."

"I... I didn't know you came this far west... Lord." She was trying very, very hard not to stare at his feet. Seeing him hover there was more than a little disconcerting, but peering into his hood was no better. She settled herself for a spot just above his shoulder.

"I travel wherever the faithful speak my name, wherever the wind touches the land. Is it truly so surprising that I should be able to appear here?" he asked her.

"I... don't know," she admitted, her heart hammering in her chest. This couldn't be happening. It _shouldn't_ be happening. Gods did not appear for people like her. They came to... well... priests, probably. Holy warriors. Not wandering bards. "I guess I'm just surprised that you've appeared before me. A... another worshipper told me that you sometimes appear to aid lost travellers, to guide them on their path. But I'm not lost. I know where I'm going, and I did not truly mean to invoke you just now." She caught something of a smile from the depths of his hood, and he turned on the road without moving a muscle. _Don't go! _she thought suddenly. _Stay!_ As if in response he turned his head slightly towards her and gestured to the trail.

"I would walk beside you on your path, for a short time," he explained. She nodded, and followed wordlessly.

"Child," he said after a moment of silence, "you are more lost than you know."

"Wh-" He raised a hand to stall her objection.

"You say a prayer every morning. Recite it for me now," he commanded. She couldn't not obey. His voice, though quiet, was like the gentle rumbling of a thunderstorm on the horizon. It thrummed inside her head, reverberating around her chest.

"'Shaundakul, grant me favourable winds, and I will give to you my dying breath'," she intoned obediently.

"That's nice. I like it. Short and to the point. I never liked chanting much either," he said. She nodded as he spoke. "Your heart isn't in it." Her head snapped up at the accusation.

"But I mean it," she protested. "My dying breath is yours, I swear. I wouldn't lie to you, Lord." He waved his hand dismissively.

"Oh, I know that. You say it, and when the time comes, I will take your dying breath and carry it high upon the wind, and it will be a beautiful song which those close to you remember. But the rest of the words, the actual _feeling_ behind them, are nothing more than an empty gesture. A meaningless ritual to you. You believe that whether you pray to me or not, what will happen will happen. You believe that the winds are no more or less favourable for your praying." She swallowed, feeling light-headed. It was true. All of it. Yes, she would give him her dying breath. She felt he deserved it. Was worthy of it. She just hadn't expected that she would ever have to explain herself to her God.

"I believe that we make our own favour. That bad things happen, and good things happen, and that we have to react to them, to resolve them, by ourselves. I... would not _want_ to know that my own accomplishments were only achieved because somebody else sent me favourable winds. I want my accomplishments to be my own."

"And your mistakes to be your own, too." Her eyes widened slightly. He had finished her thoughts for her. Again she sensed him smile as they walked. Well, she walked. He hovered. "Valear told me that you are a strong, independent young woman. He failed to mention that you are stubborn as well."

"Valear made it to Myth Drannor!" she exclaimed. How long had it been since he had set out? Years. Two, at least!

"Yes, he arrived several weeks ago. None the worse for his journey, I can assure you. He is enjoying his new position within the Knights of the Shadow Sword."

"Is he the reason you are here?" she asked in suspicion. "Wait, he spoke to you about me?"

"Oh yes. You made quite an impact on him, as I suspect he did on you. Know that leaving you was harder for him than leaving his tribe's homelands. He wanted to bring you to Myth Drannor, but he knew that you weren't ready," Shaundakul said.

"Not ready?"

"Elves and Humans are more different than you might think, and I'm not just referring to the physical differences, or the longer lifespans. Simply put, Valear knows himself. Most Elves do. You, like many Humans, do not yet know yourself. Valear felt that it wasn't fair to ask you to accompany him on his journey before yours had even started."

"My... journey? You mean my trip to Neverwinter?" she asked. Surely that couldn't be right. Valear could not have known, all those years ago, that one day she would travel to Neverwinter.

"The journey of your life, child," he said with a smile. "In a way, it began long ago, not long after the day of your birth. Then your journey was... postponed, for a while. And now, with this attack upon your home, it has resumed. The path you are now on is the path you were always destined to walk."

"No," she whispered. Beneath her clothes she felt her skin break out in goosebumps, an odd contrast with the damp, humid air around her. "We make our own destiny. Create our own fates."

"Kail, you are a bard. Do not make me recite lore to you. You already know that some choose their fates, whilst others are born to them."

"Do you know what's on the road ahead for me?" she asked hesitantly. She wasn't sure that she wanted to know. Again, the god smiled.

"Not even the gods can know that. There is, however, something you must know." He stopped walking, and waited for her nod to continue talking. "The world you have just left -- West Harbor, and your friends -- is a world of black and white. For the most part, the people there are simple, determined folk. The world you are about to enter, on the other hand, is filled with shades of grey. Not all friends are friends, and not all enemies are enemies. Greed can corrupt every man, and justice will only protect you for so long. Stay true to yourself."

"But Lord, how can I stay true to myself if I do not yet know myself?" she asked in confusion. He said nothing, but turned back to the road.

"I will leave you now. Before I do, there is one thing I would like from you."

"Anything," she said without thinking. Damn his voice! It tugged at her soul, made her _want_ to comply. Made her feel like a leaf being blown along in the wind, with no choice over her direction.

"Your prayer. Say it and mean it, or do not say it at all."

"Yes. Of course. I'm sorry," she stammered. The deity gave her one last smile as the wind screamed past them. She closed her eyes and hunched her shoulders to protect herself from the sudden gale, clutching the baby bird -- all but forgotten in the presence of her Lord -- close to her chest. When she opened her eyes again, Shaundakul was gone.

o - o - o - o - o

_"My feet carried me along the path of the Mere, no sun at my back, no wind in my hair,_

_ So I lifted my head and I opened my eyes, and 'lo before me, what did I spy?"_

Kail sang the nonsense song that she had been making up for the past half hour. At first it was nothing more than a way to pass a little time. Making up songs was something she did often when she was alone, and she was more alone now than ever. The singing had another positive effect; it kept her mind occupied. Whilst she was singing she didn't need to think. About West Harbor, about Amie, about Shaundakul... besides, the bird seemed to like her singing. It sat still in her arms, occasionally twisting its head to listen to her voice.

_"I spied a tall willow tree at the side of my path,_

_ I accidentally stepped into a puddle of swamp water..._ and now I'm wanting a bath."

She sighed. There were only so many things you could spy in the Mere, and half of them would attack you as soon as they spied _you_. In her arms, the crow cried.

"Soon. I'll feed you soon," she told it. One of her empty pouches was already filled with slugs she had collected for it. Young animals, she knew, would eat what their parents ate, as long as it was mashed fine enough. She just hoped mashed slugs would be appetising enough for the crow. Humming absently to herself, she rounded a bend in the road.

_"My feet carried me along the path of the Mere, no sun at my back, no wind in my hair,_

_ So I lifted my head and I opened my eyes, and 'lo before me, what did I spy?_

_ I spied a column of smoke,_

_ and a lone unarmed Dwarf_

_ raising his fists,_

_fighting three angry blokes?"_

She stopped and stared at the scene in front of her, blinking in surprise. But her eyes weren't deceiving her; a lone Dwarf was standing outside a building, his fists raised in a defensive posture as he danced on the spot. In front of him were three Human men, armed to the teeth and gesturing somewhat angrily at the short antagonist. Kail took a step towards them, and realised that her free hand had automatically gone to one of her daggers. It was instinct. Only hours earlier an army of Dwarfs had sacked her home village. But she could see this one was different. He wasn't dark-skinned like her attackers, and his cursing, when it reached her ears, was most _definitely_ spoken in common.

None of the people before her had seen her yet so she quickly shrugged off her backpack, leaving it by the fencepost. She placed the baby crow on top of her pack, thankful that it didn't cry when she put it down. Then, as nonchalantly as she could manage, she stepped forward.

"Is there a problem here?" she asked them. All four heads swivelled around to stare at her.

"You stay out of this, girl," sneered one of the men. "This is between us, the half-pint, and whatever gold he has on him."

"Aw, c'mon and hit me already. Even the newcomer here can see that yer all a bunch a' lizard-licking goat-loving cowards!" said the Dwarf in a thick accent. _Definitely not from around here,_ Kail thought to herself.

"That's **it**. You're going down, Dwarf!" The man who had been speaking sprang forward, aiming his short-sword at the Dwarf's chest. His two friends followed a heartbeat later with wordless cries of anger. She reacted without even thinking; her fingers dipped towards her palms and she grasped the blunted hilts of two of the tiny throwing knives from their hidden places in her bracers. She brought her arms up and flicked her wrists, sending them both towards the men. They both made their marks, one lodging itself in the first man's shoulder, the other in his thigh. He screamed in pain, clutching at his leg, then crumpled to the floor as the Dwarf punched him in the face. Judging by the sickening _crack_ that accompanied the punch, she guessed that the man's nose was broken.

Seeing their leader go down seemed to take the fight out of the others -- a little. Kail didn't have to throw any more knives; the Dwarf's blows quickly felled them, his fists moving in a blur as he jabbed and punched the taller men. When all three had finally been rendered unconscious the Dwarf turned to her, a wide grin across his face.

"I don't know about you, but that really got my blood pumping! It's a shame they had to resort to weapons, but I guess some people just can't handle a good brawl. Name's Khelgar, by the way. Khelgar Ironfist."

"Kail Farlong. Glad I could even the odds a little for you, Khelgar of the Clan Ironfist," she replied, flourishing her cloak and giving Khelgar an elaborate bow that would have done Lucas proud.

"Huh. I'd not call it that, but I appreciate the sentiment. Fighting is always more fun with a comrade, in my experience. But what say we head on in to the Weeping Willow here and quench our thirst over an ale or five?"

"I'd love to. Besides, I don't think these three will be waking up for quite a while yet," she smiled, tapping one of the bodies with her foot. Khelgar grunted, and waited for her to pick up her pack and retrieve her knives from the unconscious fighter before leading her into the inn.

o - o - o - o - o

"...And then I punched him, and said 'You call that a clout? I've had worse off me own mother, and she's almost two hundred, for Clangeddin's sake'. So that's basically what I do, and that's why I'm heading to Neverwinter."

"You're heading to Neverwinter to start tavern brawls?" asked Kail, one eyebrow creeping up in surprise.

"Nay, lass. There's more to it than that. You see, there I was, punching and kicking me way up the Sword Coast, and, well, getting a bit bored with it all. I mean, don't get me wrong, I was enjoying it alright, but it started feeling a little too easy, y'know? And then one day, in the midst of just another drunken brawl, I met fate." Khelgar stopped to take a deep draught of his ale. There were three empty tankards in front of him. Kail was still only half finished with her first.

"You found fate in a bar fight?"

Khelgar gave a quiet belch, patting his stomach before continuing. "Aye. I was drinking in some tavern south of Baldur's Gate... or it may have been north of Waterdeep... or was it east of Amn... anyway, where it was doesn't matter. I don't rightly remember much about it anyway. Y'see, everything was going well -- the drinks were flying, as well as the chairs, and some of the tables too. But there was this group of scrawny-looking Humans, just sitting there drinking their water. In the middle of a brawl! Well, I couldn't be doing with that now could I? So I marched over there and asked 'em what they thought they were playing at, ignoring a good fight."

"You 'asked' them?" The second eyebrow rose to join the first.

"Well, maybe I shoved them a little too. And in the confusion, I might even have punched somebody."

"And then what happened?" she prompted him. His eyes glazed over for a moment and she took the opportunity to study him in a little more detail. Dwarf though he was, when stood up the top of his head reached her chest. His hair was shaved to the scalp, and his thick, bushy beard was a russet-auburn colour. His face was a mass of brawler scars, and from the look of his nose it had been broken more than once. When he smiled she noticed at least three of his teeth missing, and his arms and legs, though shorter than hers, were at least three times as thick and, she suspected, carved from rock. Yet for all that, his brown eyes were deep and kindly, and twinkled whenever he talked about fighting or ale. She decided she liked the disarmingly honest Dwarf.

"What happened was they used me as a table-rag. I've never had such a beating before in my life. After the world stop spinning, and I'd spat out the blood from me mouth, I went over there and I thanked them," he said.

"Were they wizards?" It certainly didn't sound like the sort of thing Tarmas would do -- he would probably just cast a Hold spell on his antagonist, then complain him to death -- but who could say what others were capable of?

"Huh, no. Woulda made fer a less bitter defeat if they were. Turns out they were monks. Crazy water-loving religious types, if you get what I mean. They seemed a bit surprised when I thanked them for beating me, but then we got around to talking, and they told me they were part of some sort of old Order. So I'm heading to Neverwinter to conscript. The way I see it, if they can teach a bunch a' stick-thin Humans how to throw people around like that, I oughta be able to learn a whole lot more from them!"

"But why Neverwinter?" she asked, taking another sip of her drink. She stole a quick glance at the crow, which was dozing in her cloak on the table. The innkeeper had given it a strange look when he first game over, but since she had fed the bird it hadn't made any noise, so nobody had complained. "Surely there are other Monasteries that could teach you."

"Aye, but these are the only ones who'll do it for free. Trust me, I've looked around. But what about you, why are..." He didn't get to finish his sentence. The door burst open, and a dozen Duergar and Bladelings rushed into the room.

"The Kalach-Cha. Find it," hissed one of the Bladelings. They immediately split up, half of them running up the stairs and the rest of them advancing on the patrons. Khelgar moved so fast that he was almost a blur, grabbing his axe and hurling himself into a group of Duergar.

_Crap_, she thought, throwing a pair of her knives as she stood. She threw until she ran out of knives, then unclipped her daggers from their sheaths and advanced on a Bladeling that was harassing the innkeeper. It saw her coming at the last minute and turned to block her attack, countering with its own blade and forcing her to duck. Her heart started hammering in her chest as she realised that if she was just a little taller the creature would have scalped her with its weapon.

She needed to end this quickly. The longer they fought the creatures, the more damage they would do. As she parried the creature's blows she frantically recalled the moves that Lucas had taught her. The next time the Bladeling pulled back its weapon she feinted left, then when it moved to counter she rolled instead over her right shoulder, underneath the Bladeling's arms. As she came into a crouch she raised her left arm, ramming her dagger up into the Bladeling's ribcage. It hissed, and collapsed unceremoniously on top of her, and she barely missed having her eye skewered on one of the long, wicked barbs protruding from its body. An instant later the weight was gone, and she saw Khelgar pick up the corpse and throw it at the last remaining Duergar. Both landed on the floor, and neither moved again.

"Clangeddin's beard, Kail! That was some fancy footwork from ye! Don't tell me you're a monk too!?" he said, hauling her bodily to her feet.

"I'm not wise enough to be a monk," she said with a wink, patting his shoulder in thanks.

"Please!" shouted a frantic woman at the back of the stairs. "There are more of them upstairs... my husband, Zachan, is up there! Please help him!" Khelgar grunted.

"Let's go teach a few more darklings a lesson," he said. Kail nodded, and allowed him to lead the way.

o - o - o - o - o

Khelgar stepped out of the Weeping Willow and flexed his fingers, the cartilage cracking in each one as he did. He hadn't stopped grinning since the fight first began, and he suspected that as long as he stuck close to the lass, he was sure to see a lot more of their attackers.

"That was the best practise I've had in weeks. And the way ye seem to attract trouble! Well, I'd be honoured if ye'd escorted me to Neverwinter. And ye can teach me a thing or two about that fancy footwork as we go!" he suggested. The girl hitched her backpack slightly, weighing him up with her eyes. Curious eyes, they were. Stone-grey in the half-light of the Mere, but inside, with the firelight shining on them, they were vivid blue. After a moment she gave him that strange, disconcerting little smile that suggested she was listening to something only she could hear, and shrugged her shoulders.

"Sure. I'd love the company," she replied.

"Grand! Don't worry about me keeping up. Khelgar Ironfist carries his own weight. Now, I can understand ye not wanting to stay here tonight, not when it endangers all those people. So you just lead on, and we'll make a sodden camp in this Mere of yours whenever you're ready," he grinned, sticking his axe into his belt. She nodded, and set off down the dirt trail, her head swivelling to the sides as she walked.

He easily kept pace beside her, and studied her as closely as he could. She wasn't bad, for a Human. Granted, she was a little distant, but he'd heard bards could get like that. Too much going on upstairs, making them lose touch with reality. Still, she had some decent combat skills, and obviously knew how to take care of herself. She was glib-tongued, too. She'd talked the innkeeper and the merchant they'd saved into giving them a little gold for the trouble of the rescue. Afterwards she'd told him that she normally didn't care about money, but that she'd never been to Neverwinter before, and wasn't sure how far her small coin purse would take her. He couldn't really fault her for that.

_Kalach-Cha_. A strange word that their attackers had used. He knew it wasn't a word in the Duergar language -- he spit on the floor at the thought of his dark cousins -- and wondered if it meant anything to the others, those Bladelings. Kail told him she didn't know what it meant, and he believed her. Ah well, it was a mystery that would be solved in time. Or not. It didn't really matter, as long as he had somebody to punch.


	4. Fort Locke

_4. Fort Locke_

"Hngh. I don't know about this, lass. I'm not the most musical of Dwarves," said Khelgar.

"Oh, come on, at least give it a try. I learnt your ballad of Loudram's Fall, it's only fair that you try my songs," she teased him gently. It had been two days since they left the Weeping Willow, with no sign of their attackers yet. Their next stop was Fort Locke, a small defensive outpost near the eastern edge of the Mere, and she hoped they could make it there without any more incidents.

"Aye lass, but I don't have your head for languages. I still don't know how ye managed to get the right amount of spit on some of those words. Dwarven is tough for anyone not born to it."

"Hey, if I can learn Wild Elf, I can learn Dwarf," she said with a wink.

"Wild Elf, eh? Sounds like a crazy thing to learn. If ye're going to bother learning a daft Elven language, why not make it one that's used all over? Moon Elf, fer example. Lotsa those little buggers around these days," he grunted. She fought to suppress a grin. Khelgar had already given her his opinion on Elves, and it was typically prejudiced. Not that the Elves were any better. The few she had met had little love for Dwarves.

"Well, my foster father is an Elf, and he was raised by Wild Elves. He often took me to visit them, and I learnt their language quick as a youngster," she explained.

"Lass, ye still are a youngster."

"Enough stalling," she admonished. "The song." Khelgar gave a sigh of defeat, then took a deep breath and began singing in an impressive bass.

_"My feet carried me along the path of the Mere, no sun at my back, no wind in my hair..._ wait, I don't have any hair. I can't sing this, it's an insult to me self and Clan!"

"Just exchange 'hair' for 'beard' then," she suggested.

"Nay, it's too late fer that now. I've lost the spirit," he said melodramatically.

"Damn Khelgar, you'd make a great actor. Have you ever considered becoming a professional performer?"

"I'll leave the performing to you, lass. At least you've little chance of scaring patrons away with yer singing!"

"I... don't really do public performances," she admitted.

"Why not? You've been singing my songs since we left the Willow -- and singing them as well as any Dwarf could! It's true, yer not what I'd call a nightingale, but any inn or tavern would be done proud by ye!" he said in genuine surprise. "Don't tell me ye get stage fright."

"No, nothing like that," she said, shaking her head. "I don't know. I prefer to sing for myself. Or at most, in the company of friends."

"Well that's the first thing we're going t' change once we get to Neverwinter. Where ye get taverns, ye get bards. Where ye get bards, ye get crowds. And where ye get bards, and taverns, and crowds..."

_"Ye get brawls,"_ she finished, giving a fairly accurate impression of his thick accent.

"Hah! That's the spirit!"

o - o - o - o - o

Morning was giving way to afternoon when the high palisade wall of Fort Locke came into view. Built atop a hillside, it towered loftily over the surrounding land, and flags flew from the highest of the towers. It was the first Fort Kail had ever seen, and it was an impressive sight. The road curved again and they lost sight of the palisade as they passed through a screen of trees.

"Stand still, demon. Don't make this harder than it has to be."

Her ears pricked up at the rough male voice. She shot a questioning look at Khelgar and he nodded in return, removing his axe from his belt and hefting it nonchalantly. Swallowing her fear she peered into the trees around them, looking for the source of the voice. A blur of motion further down the path caught her attention, and she motioned Khelgar to follow.

"I already told you, I'm _not_ a bandit. Are you deaf, or just stupid?" The woman's voice was high and nasal, containing a hint of fear and defiance. Kail sighed, shrugged off her backpack, gently placed the crow on top of it, and stroked the hilts of her daggers. And here she thought the journey to Neverwinter was going to be boring.

_The path you are now on is the path you were always destined to walk._ She shivered at the memory of Shaundakul's words, and stepped towards the figures ahead.

Four soldiers, bearing on their shirts the same symbol that graced the flags flying from the Fort, were stood surrounding a young woman. A young woman with horns. And a tail! Kail felt her eyes almost pop out of her head. Almost without thinking she took a step forward as the young woman took up a defensive posture, her tail lashing wildly at the soldiers.

"What's going on?" she asked, keeping her hands on her daggers and her eyes on the soldiers. She heard Khelgar keeping pace beside her, but did not risk looking at him.

"Not that it's any of your business, but we caught ourselves a bandit. This demon-wench here was trying to sneak into the Fort, and Lieutenant Vallis pays good money for bandit heads," said one of the soldiers.

"For the last time, I'm not _with_ those bandits!" she woman exclaimed loudly.

"I won't let you kill her," said Kail, surprised by her own words. Why should she care if soldiers wanted to kill a... demon?

"Then it seems to me we'll get paid for delivering three bounties instead of one," snarled the man, leaping towards her.

She jumped back and pulled two throwing knives, flicking them underhand at his chest. From the corner of her eye she saw two of the soldiers advancing on Khelgar, and the demon woman was grappling with the fourth. The man before her screamed in agony when two more daggers followed, and a fifth pierced his eye, felling him instantly. Khelgar was hacking at one of his antagonists, ignoring the blows of the second which rained down upon his back. Kail lifted one of her daggers and plunged it into the man's neck, severing his jugular. He gurgled and collapsed, and Khelgar renewed his attack on his first assailant.

Turning to the fourth soldier she saw that her assistance wasn't needed; the demon woman had somehow managed to wrap her arms, legs and tail around his body, binding his arms to his chest. She sank her teeth into his neck and he screamed as the weight of the woman bore him to the ground. The demon jumped free and caught him a blow to his head with her foot, and he did not move again.

Kail groaned inwardly as she surveyed their handiwork. _Keep moving. Keep your head down. Don't be a target._ At the rate she was going, the Duergar and Bladelings wouldn't _need_ to follow the smell of the swamp to Neverwinter; they could follow the trail of bodies that littered the path behind her.

"Whew, that was a close one. I guess I owe you, huh?" asked the woman at last.

"You don't owe me anything," she replied, her insides churning as she turned away from the woman. No person owed Kail anything, and she owed nothing to any person. Shaundakul spoke true about her. She wanted to succeed on her own merits, to fail because she made her own mistakes. Debts rankled her. Turning her attention to the corpses, she quickly recovered her knives and wiped the blood off the blades.

"I'm Neeshka, by the way," said the young woman.

"I'm Kail. Kail Farlong. He's Khelgar Ironfist," she replied with a toss of her head to indicate the Dwarf. Khelgar merely grunted, still handling his axe as if he expected one of the corpses to rise and offer resistance. "I don't mean to be rude, but we really must get going. We're in something of a hurry." She looked over her shoulder as she spoke. The path behind was empty, but there was still that prickling feeling at the back of her neck... _still being watched_. Bevil had been right. She should have listened to him instead of dismissing his fears as nonsense.

"Oh. Well. Um. Look, would it be alright if I travelled with you for a while? I really am grateful for you helping me. And it would certainly be a little safer for me, travelling with you. Please?" Kail looked at the young woman's open face; her temples were marked with brown spots, the horns from her head curving back over her short brown hair, and her eyes, deep red in the iris, held such hope and fear that she didn't know how to refuse.

"I dunno about this, Kail," rumbled Khelgar. "Tieflings will stab you in the back and rob you just as soon as look at you."

Neeshka narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh yeah? And Dwarfs are squat, smelly drunks who'll chop someone in half just to prove that they're tough!" Kail caught her grin just in time, forcing her lips to remain straight.

"We're heading to Neverwinter. We're also being... followed. By hostile... things. As long as none of this is a problem for you, you can travel with us until you're ready to go your own way," she said. The Tiefling's eyes immediately brightened.

"That's great, I'm heading home to Neverwinter too! This is so perfect!" she grinned. "Let me just grab my gear. Those goons had it stored in this chest." She turned towards a chest that Kail hadn't noticed, removed a length of... something... from her sleeve, and began working on the lock. It clicked after only a few seconds, and Neeshka removed the contents, throwing the leather shirt over her head, buckling a short sword to the belt at her waist, and putting a quiver of arrows around her body to rest against her hip. Then she grabbed the shortbow, plucked the string so that it _twanged_, and smile mischievously. "All done."

"Let's get moving then," said Kail. "Fort Locke awaits us."

o - o - o - o - o

"You! Stop right there!" Kail blinked in surprise as a broad-shouldered man made his way over to them, his short light brown hair blowing slightly in the breeze that caused his blue cloak to swirl about his body. There was something familiar about him, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Neeshka ducked behind her and made a quiet choking sound of disbelief.

"Neverwinter Marshal!" she hissed. Kail felt her head go light. If someone had reported finding the bodies of four Fort Locke soldiers in the woods not far from here... this did not bode well. The man stood in front of her, appraising her appearance, then smiled and stuck out his hand.

"Marshal Cormick. Galen told me what you did for him, back at the Weeping Willow. I just wanted to say thanks. He's an old friend, and I look out for him when I can." She looked over the Marshal's shoulder and noticed Galen stood not far away. The travelling merchant smiled and waved at her, and she returned his greeting. Galen had been coming to West Harbor to sell his wares for as long as she could remember, and he had been at the inn when the Duergar attacked.

"Ah, no thanks is necessary, Marshal... Cormick?" She narrowed her eyes at him. That name... "You're from West Harbor! You beat Lorne Starling in the Harvest Brawl."

"That's right!" he grinned. "I thought you had the sm... err... sound of a Harborman on you. Kail, right? Kail...?"

"Farlong."

"Ah, Daeghun's little one. How is the old man?"

"Well enough, thank you," she said, favouring him with a smile now that she was sure he wasn't going to arrest them. "Marshal, have you seen anything of Lorne in Neverwinter? I'm heading for the city, and I promised Retta that I'd keep an ear open for word of her son."

"I'm afraid not," said Cormick. His smile turned into a grimace. "I looked him up when he first arrived in Neverwinter, tried to recruit him into the City Watch. But I think he found the life of a Greycloak a little more glamorous. Last I heard he'd joined their ranks, and I've not seen him since."

"Marshal..." she began, hesitating slightly. Not her business. But it affected home. Affected Daeghun, and Bevil, and everybody else. "Georg said that there hasn't been a patrol to West Harbor in months. Why did they stop? If there had been a patrol, maybe there would have been fewer deaths when we were attacked."

"Attacked?!" His eyes widened in genuine alarm and he took her by the elbow, leading her off to a quieter part of the small Fort. "I was afraid of something like this. What happened?" She recounted the story, from the moment she awoke to when Daeghun showed up; she found herself oddly reluctant to mention the shard. But the fewer people knew about it, the better, so she didn't speak of it at all. As she spoke she noticed Neeshka listening intently. Khelgar had already heard the story, so he contented himself with merely grumbling whenever she mentioned the Duergar. As she finished, Cormick shook his head.

"The patrols stopped because the Fort's Commander, a man named Tann, went missing. His Lieutenant Vallis claims that it's too dangerous to resume the patrols until they find out what happened to Tann, and the men with him." Cormick fell silent for a moment as he subjected her -- along with Neeshka and Khelgar -- to a considering gaze. "I have no authority here. The Soldiers, Greycloaks, and this Fort, fall outside my jurisdiction. But maybe you can help."

"Me?" she asked in surprise.

"Speak to Vallis. Tell him what happened to West Harbor. Maybe a living eyewitness report will finally convince him to resume the patrols."

"I'm not sure what I can do, but I'll speak to him at least." Cormick nodded.

"Thanks. You can find Vallis by the courtyard, near the smith. He'll be the one complaining that the ground's too dirty for him to walk on," he said drily, stepping aside for her to pass. Neeshka followed, keeping her head down in a surprising display of meekness as she scuttled past the Marshal. Kail led the way to the courtyard, sidling past a group of plain-dressed people who were making their way towards a patchwork of tents. Were all Forts this crowded? She wished she knew.

There was no mistaking Vallis. He had the condescending air of a nobleman -- or at least, what she thought of as the condescending air of a nobleman, since she'd never actually met any nobles -- and stood his ground, forcing the tide of people to flow around him.

"Vallis?" she asked, stopping in front of him and wishing she was taller. She didn't like the way the man stared down his nose at her.

"_Lieutenant_ Vallis, to you." A thread of anger shot through her like lightning, suppressed in an instant.

"Of course. Lieutenant Vallis, I was wondering why the patrols through the Mere have stopped. My companions and I have been travelling the roads, and noticed them a fair bit more dangerous than usual." Vallis sniffed derisively. If he mentioned swamp smells she would ring his _neck_. Or maybe just let Khelgar jump on his toes a little.

"The patrols have stopped because too many are disappearing. The man haven't been well-prepared, and now Commander Tann is missing too. I can't risk any more patrols until we receive reinforcements from Neverwinter. To be honest, it's just a matter of time before I am promoted to Commander anyway. Perhaps with me in charge the men will become a little more disciplined. A little more efficient."

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully. "But wouldn't your superiors want proof of Tann's... demise, before promoting you?"

"True enough," he admitted.

"I could look into it for you," she offered. The man gave her a speculative look of surprise.

"And what's in it for you?"

"I expect to be well-paid, of course," she smiled.

"Ah. Mercenaries." The Lieutenant's lip curled into a snarl. "Tann was perfectly willing to work with _your_ kind. Personally I would rather throw you in the gallows... but you can serve at least some use here, for the moment. Find out what killed Tann, and you will have your reward."

"How much is a promotion worth these days?" she asked, turning to Neeshka with an innocent look. "Three hundred gold?" The young woman nodded fervently, and Vallis scoffed.

"A ridiculous sum for an unproven mercenary." Kail smiled sweetly at him and, with her free hand, pulled out one of the throwing knives from her bracer, flipping it casually over each knuckle of her fingers. _The smallest gesture, a minute performance, a sleight of hand, can speak louder than the most empowered speech or emotional song._ Thanks be to Lucas.

"I think you'll find me well worth the money... Commander-To-Be." His eyes followed the blade as if hypnotised by the rhythmic rolling. Then they snapped to hers, and he nodded imperceptibly.

"Very well. Give me your map and I will mark his last known location for you." She did as he requested, examining the 'X' as he handed the map back to her.

"Is there anything in that area of particular interest?" she asked as she folded it away into one of her belt pouches.

"Crypts. Graveyards. That sort of thing," he said with another sniff. "Now if you don't mind, I have a lot of work to do. Speak to me again when you have Tann's body."

"Lass," said Khelgar quietly as they walked away -- or at least what he thought of as quietly, which was a lot louder than most people spoke normally -- "I don't mind looking into this, but... mercenaries? Ye want t' be careful, getting your name involved in stuff like that." She fixed the knife back into her bracer and started for the palisade gate.

"Greed is a motive that men like Vallis understand," she said quietly, letting her eyes skim over the faces of the Greycloak soldiers they passed. Most wore blank looks of defeat or worried frowns. "If he thinks we're doing this for money, he's less likely to be suspicious. If I had mentioned Cormick or West Harbor that would immediately have put his back up, and he would probably have dismissed anything I had to say. Besides," she looked down and smiled at the Dwarf, "if we're going to be brawling in taverns, we're going to need money for drinks. Would you prefer to have Neeshka steal the coin that we'll need?" They both looked to the Tiefling, who grinned and wiggled her tail suggestively.

"Hmph. Yer too smart fer your own good, lass," he said with a reluctant grunt.

"Excuse me. I heard that you're mercenaries," said a middle-aged woman approaching them. Khelgar gave Kail an I-told-you-so look.

"That's right," she said. "We are... the Comrades Three mercenary group. Is there something we can help you with?"

"Yes. Maybe," the woman replied, wringing her hands nervously. Gods, did all middle-aged women do that when they were nervous? "Since the patrols have stopped, banditry has been running rife. My husband and some of our friends have been the latest victims." Tears crept into her eyes as she spoke, and she gestured around the Fort at the make-shift encampment of tents. "We're refugees, you see, and some of our people were taken as we were fleeing from our homes. They're being held for ransom by a self-styled bandit lord, but we'd happily pay you the money instead if you can return our families safely."

"I think I know where this bandit camp might be," Neeshka whispered into her ear. "I've seen signs that somebody's setting up a defensive position not far from here. I say we go and have a look around, see if we can help ourselves to a few things, maybe even rescue these hostages."

"We'll see what we can do," she told the woman. The look of gratitude in her eyes as they walked away was almost sickening.

"'The Comrades Three mercenary group'," said Khelgar, shaking his head. "Ye could have come up with something a little more bloody, a little less... chummy! At least tell me you're going t' come up with some decently epic song about our adventures. Something that bards in taverns everywhere can sing, to make even the most hardened of brawlers fear the name 'Khelgar Ironfist'!"

"I'll see what I can do," she smiled, and led the closest thing she had to friends past the wooden palisade.


	5. A Little Light

_5. A Little Light_

Keep moving. Keep your head down. Don't be a target. _Yeah, right,_ she thought to herself as she started up a fire in the musty crypt. _Good advice in theory, Georg, but in reality... hard to put into practise._ The past week had seen them trudging the breadth of the Mere from sun-up to sun-down. With any luck their meandering had thrown the Duergar and Bladelings off their trail, but that prickling sensation at the back of her neck just refused to go away. _Please let it be you, Lord. Please let it be you watching me, and not somebody with a dagger in their hand, waiting for the right moment to strike._ She never did get an answer.

They had gotten lost whilst looking for the bandit camp. Neeshka reluctantly admitted that she may have been slightly off with her markings on the map. Kail reluctantly admitted that she may have misinterpreted the lie of the land. Khelgar admitted that he didn't care whose bloody fault it was, because in the end they'd wandered into a lizard tribe's territory and had to fight their way out. He'd claimed the fiery mace from the corpse of the lizardman chieftan as a victory prize, and as far as she was concerned he was welcome to it. Neeshka was loathe to use weapons that drew her in to personal combat, but she was deadly wicked with her shortbow. Kail understood how the young woman felt. She herself preferred to stand somewhere safe, putting a knife in the throat of anybody who came at her. But throwing knives would only keep you alive for so long, which is where Lucas' training gave her an advantage over the other woman.

"I still don't know how you do it," said Khelgar, sitting down beside the fire which was growing slowly. It wasn't hard to find kindling in the crypts, but the fires seemed to have a life of their own. Sometimes it took a long time for them to burn warmly, and there were times when the shadows of the crypts were never completely banished by the firelight.

"Well, first you gather your materials from your tinderbox, then you build up a base and use your flintstriker to ignite..." she said, watching as small flames licked at the twigs she fed them.

"Not that, lass. I mean I don't know how you manage to make so many cuts without taking any punches. We've been fighting zombies for the past six hours, and I haven't seen ye take a single hit. Even the blasted Tiefling's had a knock or two!" Neeshka glared at him, but said nothing. She was sorting through a small pile of rusted coins and baubles that she had collected from chests and altars throughout the crypts. Initially she had seemed a little hesitant to suggest looking for usable items in the graves, and Kail suspected that the other woman was worried about being accused of grave-robbing. When Kail had told her to go ahead, she gave a wicked grin and now inspected every grave they encountered.

Khelgar had been mortified; Dwarves took their dead very seriously, and he lectured them for hours about defiling the dead and respecting the memories of the fallen. She had merely nodded along to his chastening. The way she saw it, the dead were dead and no longer needed material possessions. If there was something that could help them stay alive, they should use it. To do otherwise was foolish and impractical. Besides, if somebody came across _her_ dead body, she would not begrudge them anything they could find on her. Not that they would find much.

She realised that Khelgar was looking expectantly at her, and cast her mind over the last thing he had said.

"Lucas says that people who wear armour expect to be hit. That the best incentive to not be hit, is to not wear armour. Armour thick enough to turn a blade or stop an arrow will only slow you down, and it's not always a guarantee to safety. He says that it provides a false sense of security, and lulls its wearer into believing that he is safe from all harm."

"This Lucas, you've mentioned him before," said Khelgar thoughtfully. "He's a relative of yours?" She smiled as the image of the old man popped into her mind.

"No, not a relative, but an old friend of my foster-father. He's a bard - a bloody good one, you might say - and he taught me everything I know." _Well, not everything_, she thought to herself. _Daeghun taught me a lot. And Valear..._

"Sounds like a crazy man to me. Who charges into battle wearing no armour?" Khelgar slapped his own chain shirt which jingled melodically. "Even the thief knows enough to wear leathers!"

"You know, I've heard that monks don't wear armour," she said half-teasingly. He only nodded, a thoughtful gleam in his eye.

She stared into the flames as silence descended over them. In her mind's eye she could still remember the grateful, near-worshipful gazes of the refugees as she and her companions escorted the hostages back to Fort Locke. Even now Liza's gold burned in her pocket... but who could turn down coin like that? _You call yourself a bard? Bards are supposed to lust after fame, glory and wealth. You're nothing but a little girl with a flute and a fate._

Was it her fate to be here, in this dank, undead-filled crypt, searching for Commander Tann? She hoped so. Otherwise she was a fool. A bloody fool. Movement on the floor caught her attention, and she saw the crow hop along the ground, stabbing at a beetle with its beak. The fledgling was flying now, though it often rode on her shoulder or her arm. _Kail; bard, wanderer, pack mule._

"When are ye going t' name that blasted thing?" asked Khelgar, his voice slicing through the oppressive silence of the dead room. He had followed her gaze to the bird.

"I'm not," she replied. "I think that when you name something that is wild, you force it to conform to your own standards. You cage it with words, with pre-conceived perceptions, and that makes it less than what it is."

"Y' sure you're not a tree-worshipper?" he asked, subjecting her to a look that suggested she was crazy.

"I'm not wise enough..."

"...to be a tree-worshipper," he finished.

"Neeshka?" The thief looked up from her decidedly smaller pile of coins. "Will you tell me a little more about yourself?" Neeshka's eyes widened a little in surprise and she rocked back onto her heels. Kail felt a little guilty that the young woman had been with them for over a week now, and she knew little more about her than when they had first met.

"Well... sure. I'm... well... me."

"Just 'me'?"

"Nobody's ever really asked me before. I've never had to think about it," Neeshka admitted.

"Well I'd like to know," she replied, patting the ground by the fire. The other woman jumped up and came closer, holding her hands towards the flames even though it wasn't really cold in the room. Her red eyes shone brightly in the firelight.

"Really? Wow! This is so exciting! Well, lets see. I have no idea who my mom or dad are... um, I was abandoned, but raised by priests. Who tried to convert me. So I went away for a long time."

"Priests?" asked Khelgar. Kail smiled; she could tell he was just as interested in the young woman's history as she was.

"Yeah, priests of Helm." Here her voice took on a deeper, mocking tone. "'The Watcher. The Vigilant One. Kind to Children'. Were _they_ a hard-headed bunch. _Really_ big on discipline, not much into the caring and forgiveness."

"They weren't?"

"I guess they just ran out of 'I forgive you's," said Neeshka with a shrug.

"And why do you steal?" she prompted.

"I... don't know. It's just something I do. Something I'm good at. Why do you sing?"

_To keep me sane_, she thought to herself, but said nothing.

"Huh. Shouldn't go encouraging her," said Khelgar. "Last thing we need's her stealing from us."

"Is there anything I can do or say to stop you being a thief?" she asked Neeshka.

"Nope," the other woman grinned back.

"Then if you're going to be a thief, be the best damned thief that you can be," she smiled.

"Really? Wow! You're so nice! The priests always tried to discourage me from stealing, but lets face it; I'm a Tiefling. It's not like people are going to give me a break. Very few people want to help me, so I have to help myself. And I do."

"What's it like, being a Tiefling?" she asked. She cupped her chin in her hands, resting her elbows on her knees.

"I don't know. I've never been anything else, so it's not like I can compare. Most of the time it's not that bad. I mean, ignoring the fact that I have _eeevil_ demon blood in me, and that when most people see me they tend to start screaming for the pitchforks and stakes."

"How do you manage to stay so... normal? You have the blood of a fiend in your veins, most people don't want to know about you, and your profession is hardly a social one. How do you stay so happy, and honest, and open? If I was you, I wouldn't trust anybody. I'd skulk around in the shadows, and avoid people like the Neverwinter Plague. But you... you've spoken openly about what you are with no shame, or guilt, or anger..." she trailed off as she realised she was probably babbling. Neeshka's tail flicked from side to side in amusement. The gods only knew what Khelgar thought of her questions.

"If I skulked around or spent my time feeling sorry for myself, I'd never have any fun. I am what I am, and I can't change that, so I might as well make the best of it," said Neeshka. The words seemed to slice through Kail's chest into her heart, and she stood up, brushing past her friends to stare out of the open doorway. There weren't any undead in the corridor, but she hadn't expected there to be.

_They deserve to know,_ she thought to herself. _They've told you so much... Khelgar's misguided desire to embrace monkhood, Neeshka's sad past... they need to know what kind of person they're travelling with. They need to know about more than a chunk of silver and a bunch of crazed Duergar. They're not going to judge you for who you are. Damnit, why can't you just trust somebody, even a little? You don't have to tell them everything, just tell them what's bothering you most and then it's out of the way. They don't have to stay if they don't want to._

She stepped back completely into the room and leant against the wall, folding her arms across her chest. The other two were regarding her blankly from the fire. _Here are we; the Comrades Three_, she thought wryly. She joined them by the fireside, crossing her legs in front of the small dancing flames.

"It might surprise you to hear that I've been accused of being aloof and emotionally distant before," she began, and snorted when they both made unconvincing sounds of surprise. "But you've both been honest with me, so I want to be honest with you. I... don't really like talking about myself much..." she faltered.

"Heh, no kidding, lass. I've never seen a bard as quiet as you. Most of 'em are braggarts who couldn't keep a secret for more than five seconds," said Khelgar. Neeshka nodded her agreement. "Never thought I'd see the day when I met a self-effacing bard, but here you are, sat in front of us." She smiled, and took a deep breath.

"The main reason that I sing, and the reason Lucas taught me to fight as I do, is because I tend to... well, lose control of my emotions. In conflict. Battle-frenzy, he calls it," she said.

"Ye're a berserker!" said Khelgar, his eyes shining. She winced, but nodded.

"I lose myself in battle, though to be honest, I haven't really seen much in the way of battles. But when I was training for the militia, Georg - he's in charge of the militia in West Harbor - he realised that I just couldn't bring myself to fight back when provoked. The one time I did... well, I lost it, and almost killed someone who was twice as big as me. I don't even remember it happening. One moment I was listening to somebody mocking me, and the next I was staring down at him on the floor. Everything in between was just... blank. Just gone. And I felt empty for days, as if all the emotions had been drained out of me in that one moment of frenzy."

"Is that why your friend Lucas trained you to fight with knives and daggers, instead of your fists or an axe like moss-breath here?" asked Neeshka.

"Yes. He came to visit my father one day, and Daeghun asked him to be my mentor. He taught me how to control my emotions, how to use my mind for more than fighting. He taught me songs to control the energy I felt, and taught me to use those songs as a tool to temper my violence. But, occasionally, I still lose that control. I just thought that you both needed to know that, in case... well, in case we're caught in a fight and I lose it, and you need to stop me. I'll understand if you feel the need to give me a few heavy knocks to the head," she said with a grim smile for Khelgar.

"Don't worry, Kail. Khelgar Ironfist will see that you don't do anything stupid if you want to go berserk. And if you wanna show me what you can do on the Tiefling, well, I'll not judge ye for it."

"Hey!" exlaimed Neeshka, and stuck her tongue out at him.

"There's more," she continued when it was obvious no argument would break out. "I only found out later, after an... incident. I was angry about something..." _somebody_ "...one moment I was just stood there, thinking about what was making me angry, and the next moment there was fire all around me, inside the house. Luckily my father and I were able to put the fire out, but the wizard who lived nearby saw the flames. He put me through some tests, and finally told me that I had, in my very distant past, an ancestor who was the mortal offspring of a dragon. I have a tiny, insignificant portion of dragon blood in my veins, and what happened when I got angry was, for wont of a better word, dragon-fire." Khelgar let out a whistle.

"So that's the reason you were so willing to accept me," said Neeshka thoughtfully.

"That, and I think that everybody deserves a chance to prove themselves," she smiled weakly.

"Hey, we make a fine trio," the Tiefling grinned. "Part demon, part dragon, part swamp monster. Maybe you can compose a song about us." Kail laughed aloud and they both jumped in surprise.

"Y'know lass, I think that's the first time I've ever heard ye happy."

"What's not to be happy about?" she said with a maniacal grin. "We're three misfits sat in an undead-infested crypt, searching for a lost Fort Commander, all for a little gold and piece of mind." _And maybe, just maybe, I'll survive the trip to Neverwinter after all._

o - o - o - o - o

Neeshka angled her tiny mirrorscope around the doorway, narrowing her eyes at what she saw reflected in the device. A tall, dark-robed man wearing a mask over his face was pacing the room, four corpses lying at his feet. In the far corner stood a second man. He was dressed in the same light blue uniform worn by Neverwinter soldiers everywhere. He held one arm across his chest, and, beneath his fair hair, his face was tired and pained. _If I have to put my coin on it,_ she thought to herself as she withdrew the scope, _I'd say we just found Commander Tann._

Silently creeping down the corridor to where the other two were waiting, she stuck her hand into one of her pockets and stroked the item inside; a small stone, a perfect semi-circle, that had been broken exactly down the centre. It was a game. Kail's game. The bard had suggested it one day before they had even entered this gods-forsaken crypt. Every morning Kail hid the distinctive stone about her person or in her pack. Neeshka was supposed to lift it from her by nightfall, without the other woman noticing. _"A way of keeping your skills sharp,"_ Kail had said with a grin as she hid the stone the first time they played. It was nice to finally find somebody who appreciated her skills. But what was more; the bard actually seemed to trust her. It was a new experience.

"Well," she said as she crouched beside Kail and Khelgar behind a half-crumbled inner-wall, "I think we've found our lost Commander. And he has a friend." The bard lifted a questioning eyebrow. "I think it's Human, but he - or she - is wearing a mask, so I can't tell. Still, he's wearing dark robes, and I'm getting some definite religious vibes. Robes and vibes usually point to priests, but I don't recognise the attire. Whoever he is, he's not praying to Helm right now."

Kail eyed her thoughtfully. It was hard to know what went on inside the bard's mind. Most of the time she was impassive, as unreadable as a book written in... well, an obscure and complex language. Very occasionally she allowed flashes of emotion to pass over her face, but they were... wrong. Humour danced in her grey-blue eyes when others would be feeling sadness. Anger flashed across her face when anybody else would feel afraid. And she had an odd way of tilting her head, letting her eyes glaze over as if she was listening to something only she could hear.

Maybe she was.

"I can't imagine any priests wanting to stay down here, unless they're cleansing the place... sanctifying it or something," said Kail after a moment's consideration.

"Ahh... I'd say not," she replied. "Tann looks hurt. Probably tortured."

"Hnh," Khelgar grunted in disgust. "I'm up for a good honest fight as much as the next man, but torture? There's nothing honourable in that. It's cowardice!" They both turned to Kail, but the bard was silent, her gaze turned inwards.

"Anything else of note in the room?" she asked at last.

"A strange, glowing altar near the Commander and the priest, and a few rotting corpses on the floor."

"I don't like going in there blind, but if we're going to get Tann out of there, we're going to have to face this priest on his ground," Kail sighed. "Neeshka, do you think you can get a clear shot at him, if Khelgar and I keep him busy? I wish I knew more about priests and their spells. As it is, we'll just have to hope he can't do anything _too_ serious if we come in range of him."

"Sure. Just give the word and I'll have an arrow through his chest," she smiled. There would be valuables. Priests often carried valuables. Oh, not always things that were immediately obvious; nobody but a priest would consider a holy symbol or talisman from their god valuable, but symbols and talismans were often crafted from the _finest_ quality materials, and easily fenced to somebody who had a friend who had a friend who knew a guy who had a cousin who worked in the smelting business...

She followed the other two down the corridor, flicking her tail as she walked. This crypt definitely didn't have any long-term prospects. It was dark, dank, and creepy. Not just regular crypt creepy, but _creepy_. She wasn't averted to a little 'opportunistic adventuring' - that was the proper term for grave-robbing, right? - but this place made even her bones itch. The sooner they were out of here, the better.

Kail and Khelgar were arguing about who was going to rush into the room first. Neeshka smiled. For all Kail claimed that she preferred to stand out of the way with a clear aim for her knives, she was surprisingly quick to put herself in harm's way. She seemed to see everything as a challenge, and threw herself into proving she was tough enough to overcome it. But this was one fight Kail would not win. Some time ago, before they had even met Neeshka, they had come to an agreement between themselves that Khelgar had first hit in any fight. He claimed it was a time-honoured Dwarven tradition, and used it as an excuse whenever there was even the remotest chance of combat. As far as she was concerned they were **both** welcome to charge in there like suicidal fools.

The other two crouched at either side of the doorway as Neeshka nocked an arrow on her bow, softly stroking the flight feathers for luck. It was silly, it was superstitious, but it was a habit she had not been able to bring herself to break. Kail nodded to Khelgar, and gave a silent count of three on her fingers. On 'three' the Dwarf rushed into the room, flaming mace in his callused hands, Kail at his heels with her daggers.

"Ah, fresh materials to work with. Come, we will add your corpses to our army," said a sinister voice from inside the room. She stepped after her friends but it was too late; the priest's arms were raised above his head, and on the floor in front of him the four corpses were rising to their feet. Khelgar immediately jumped towards them, and took one down before it had even fully risen.

"Crap," Kail swore. "Neeshka, the priest!" she shouted, and then jumped after the Dwarf, slashing low in a desperate attempt to remove their legs.

She ignored the corpses as she sighted the priest. She couldn't help her friends. The undead did not feel pain - arrows would not stop them, or even slow them, unless they were magically enchanted. The only way to stop a shambling, unfeeling corpse was to take off its limbs or its head. Kail and Khelgar could handle that.

She let her arrow fly, but the priest moved fast enough to avoid it. She let a second and a third fly, and had a fourth on her shortbow before she even realised that she didn't need it, the last two had made their marks, and the priest was on the floor, twitching as the life drained out of him. Turning, she noticed the Fort Commander grappling with the last undead corpse, and she released her bowstring, sending the arrow into its back. Khelgar dealt it a low blow with his mace, removing the creature's kneecaps, then bashing a hole into its decaying skull. It went down, and did not move again.

"Commander Tann?" asked Kail, sliding her daggers back into their sheaths.

"I am," said the man, "and I thank you for your timely rescue. Did Lieutenant Vallis send you?"

"Vallis is paying us to find your corpse," said Kail, and the grin she gave the man was frightening to say the least. "I think he's going to be a little disappointed when we bring you back alive."

o - o - o - o - o

"So you think that priest was working with this... Black Garius fellow?" Kail asked Tann. Behind her Neeshka and Khelgar were helping two of the Commander's men limp towards the Fort. They had found the men further inside the crypt, but they hadn't been fast enough to save the third soldier in Tann's patrol. His body still lay on the cold, silent floor, until somebody could be sent from Fort Locke to claim him.

"With him, or for him. I heard them speak via that altar on several occasions. From what I overheard, and judging by what the priest... questioned... me and my men about, I'd say they were preparing to attack Fort Locke," Tann replied.

"Did they have a big enough army to defeat the Fort?" He shook his head.

"No. You fought through most of his forces to find me. Unless they had another army coming from nearby - Highcliff, maybe - they wouldn't have stood a chance."

Kail let her eyes skim over the ground as her mind took in Tann's words. It was a mystery. Thankfully, it was one that she didn't have to worry about. She had enough mysteries of her own. _The shard. 'Uncle' Duncan. The Duergar and Bladelings. That damned itch at the back of my neck that tells me I'm being watched..._

"So you **are** alive, Commander." Her head snapped up to Vallis and two of his men walking along the path towards them. _Damn it, I should've been watching the road. Should've been paying attention._ "I'm sure you'll have a report ready for when you return."

"That I will, Lieutenant. Assemble the men - we have much to discuss."

"Oh, you misunderstand, Tann." _Crap,_ thought Kail. _This isn't going to end well._ "You will report to me, and I will address the men." The Lieutenant's chest puffed up self-righteously and he placed one hand on his sword hilt. Behind her she almost _felt_ Khelgar and Neeshka ready themselves for a fight. "I'm relieving you of command. Your neglect to properly train the men has resulted in our loss of patrols."

"I prepared those men as best I could. Nobody could have expected what happened. If you have a problem with my command, bring it up with my superiors. Continue as you are, and only the Tomb of Betrayers will await you," Tann said.

_Brave words for a man who lost his only weapon in the crypts_, she thought, impressed despite herself. The men they had rescued were similarly unarmed. If they had to fight, it would be close...

"I think you'll find a lot of things have changed at the Fort in your absence, _Commander._ The men no longer follow you." _Think fast, Kail. What would Lucas do?_ She quickly pulled her cloak around her body, hiding her weapons from view. She insinuated one of her arms into the Commander's, turning her body slightly towards him in what she hoped was a 'woe-is-me-I'm-so-helpless' pose. It was almost funny how, even when he was glaring at Vallis, he raised his arm for her in a protective gesture.

"I'm sure the men know who their _true_ Commander is," she said aloud, regulating her voice so that it quavered just a little. _Look at me, I'm just a helpless young woman, and this man is my protector. You wouldn't rid a defenceless maiden of her only defender, leaving her at the mercy of a cruel, harsh world... would you?_ She gave a small pout, just for good measure. Lips slightly parted, breathy gasp of fear...

"Err," said one of Vallis' men. The Lieutenant rounded on him.

"What? You're not going to fall for this... this... act!" he accused.

"Men, Lieutenant Vallis is under arrest. Escort him back to the Fort," said Tann. Then he turned to Kail as she dislodged her arm from his. "Lady, I owe you my life for the second time in as many days. I hope there is some way I can repay you." She said nothing, but gave him the broadest, most frightening smile he had probably ever seen.

o - o - o - o - o

The gallows creaked ominously under the weight of the swinging corpse. Kail hadn't been there for the hanging itself, but she had been told that Vallis screamed in rage until the very end. Her crow was perched atop the gallows, but it didn't seem to know what to make of the moving food. _Don't eat that,_ she thought silently to the bird. _It'll give you indigestion._

"Tann told me what you did for him and his men," said Cormick, approaching her with a smile. "I just wanted to give you this. Hopefully it will make your journey a little easier. If you're ever in Neverwinter, stop by the Watch House and I'll make sure you get a proper reward." He dropped a small bag of coins into her hand.

"Thank you, Marshal. I'll make sure it gets put to good use," she smiled. _Ha, good use indeed. It's probably been assigned to the ale fund already._

"I'll let you get on your way. I'm heading back to Neverwinter now, and I know for a fact that Tann wants to speak to you before you leave. It was nice seeing you again, Kail. Give my regards to your father the next time you see him." She nodded, and watched Cormick's back disappear into the crowd. Then, with Neeshka and Khelgar following closely, she sought out Commander Tann.

They found him easily, stood in the centre of the courtyard where they had first encountered Vallis. Now Tann was stood with his hands behind his back, watching Vallis swing. She stopped a pace behind him, running her eyes over the dead Lieutenant's bloated features. Around them the Neverwinter soldiers avoided looking at the corpse. They knew how close they had come to that fate themselves.

"Time to take down the decorations, don't you think, Commander?" she asked. He sighed, but nodded.

"You're right. It's probably not good for morale. I'll have somebody cut him down and bury him in a marked grave. No point sending the body to sleep with the other Betrayers in their Tomb. Now, I heard a rumour that a promotion is worth three hundred gold, these days," he said, subjecting her to a questioning glance. She gave him a small, guilty smile. "You should've asked Vallis for more. As it is, here's your three hundred." He gave her a pouch of gold - considerably larger than the one Cormick had given her - which she pocketed. Later she would divvy it between herself and her companions.

"Thank you," she said. Because, as Lucas had once told her, it was good manners to thank people after you had taken their gold. It made them more willing to give you more in the future.

"You also have my promise that the patrols to West Harbor will be resumed immediately. If there's another attack on your village, we'll hear about it and be able to send help with all haste. And now that you've helped solve our undead problem, we should be able to turn our attention to other matters, such as the bandits."

"We've already done that," she said with a shrug. "All of the hostages have been returned to their families."

"And the bandit lord?" asked Tann in surprise. Obviously nobody had mentioned the bandits to him since his return a few hours ago. Though with all the furore surrounding the undead and the patrols, she could hardly blame him.

"He annoyed me," she smiled. The Commander nodded uncertainly, eyeing her a trifle warily. She stifled a grin. Tann was a seasoned fighter, a Fort commander, and a lot bigger than her. Why he was looking at her suspiciously she had no idea.

"Ye-es. Remind me never to get on your bad side. Regardless, here's the bounty that we had out on him." He gave her another purse of coins.

"Thank you, Commander. And be sure to thank your smith for the knives," she said. When Tann had mentioned repayment she had asked for some spare throwing knives. Balanced, well-made knives didn't grow on trees - or if they did, she hadn't found the right tree yet - and the Fort's smith had been more than happy to oblige.

"I certainly will. Now, don't let me keep you. You've put yourself out more than enough for us." She nodded goodbye and led her companions towards the palisade walls.

"I love how people just come up to you and give you money. It's like you're robbing them, without actually stealing anything," grinned Neeshka.

"I'm so glad you approve," she told the Tiefling drily.

"Well I for one hope that this Highcliff place has a tavern," said Khelgar. "It's not a good idea to let gold sit in your pockets for too long. It'll weigh you down, and encourage thieves." The last he said with a not-so-sly glance at Neeshka.

"Ah, only the gods know what adventures await the Comrades Three in Highcliff," she smiled, taking out her flute and blowing an experimental scale of notes. It had been too long since she last played. "But lets not worry about spending gold just now. The road awaits us."


	6. Eridis

_6. Eridis_

"Do either of you know any good pirate songs?"

"Pirate songs, lass?"

"Or sailor songs. I want to be prepared, for when we're on the Double Eagle. Lucas taught me a couple, but I'm not sure if they're proper sailing songs, or just what he thinks sailing songs should be." Kail rolled her shoulders as she walked between her friends. How long had it been since they had left Fort Locke now? Days. A week? She wished she didn't lose track of time so easily, but caught up in her own inner world of songs and stories, time just didn't seem that important.

"Company!" hissed Neeshka, pulling an arrow from her quiver and sighting down her bow at something on the path ahead of them. _Damn it, girl, stop daydreaming and pay attention to your surroundings,_ Kail chided herself.

"Persistent, aren't they?" Khelgar asked, hefting his axe. She nodded.

"As long as they keep coming, we'll keep cutting them down."

"Ye'll get no argument from me, lass." She smiled, and cleared her throat to address the group of Duergar and Bladelings stood in their path.

"Foul creatures of evil, we are the Comrades Three. Know that your reign of terror in these lands is now over. However, should you choose to hand back the princess, we may be lenient and allow you to escape with your lives." The Dwarves turned to each other, puzzled looks on their faces. They weren't the only ones.

"Err, lass. What're you doing?" Khelgar whispered. To her other side, Neeshka looked similarly bemused.

"Sowing the seeds of confusion within the enemy ranks," she replied from the corner of her mouth.

"You die here, Kalach-Cha," hissed the Bladeling.

"Really? But we were just getting to know each other," she said, slipping two of her knives into her hands.

"Attack, thralls!" the creature ordered the Duergar. But the dark Dwarves were looking up at the embankment behind them, at something small that was hurtling down the hillside into their group...

Something exploded nearby, and lightning rained down from the cloudless sky, striking wildly around the Duergar. Kail found herself oddly reluctant to jump into the fray amidst deadly lightning bolts, so contented herself instead with throwing knives as Neeshka loosed round after round of arrows at their antagonists. Eventually the lightning stopped, and only a handful of smoking corpses remained. They stepped carefully forward, avoiding the charred bodies on the floor. The sharp, acrid tang of burnt flesh crept into Kail's nostrils...

_...the world was spinning! There was a flash of magic, the swish of material as the young woman ran... a mage and a spell, a flash of orange fire. Amie screamed as the flames engulfed her, she screamed, and the smell of burnt flesh tore through the air..._

The world steadied, and she opened her eyes.

"Are you okay?" asked Neeshka. She realised that the young woman had put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and managed to nod, gulping fresh air, trying to rid her nose and her mouth of the vile smell of burnt meat.

"Just got a bit excited," she replied with a weak smile. Neeshka held her for still for a moment, then removed her hand, but Kail knew that the Tiefling didn't believe her. _'Got a bit excited'? You could've done better than that..._

"What is it?" asked Khelgar, gesturing at the small animal that had leapt into the group of attackers.

"Ah, this must be one of those rare lightning-badgers I've heard so much about," she said knowingly. The creature chittered at them, baring its teeth.

"Lightning-badgers, eh?" he said, taking a step back. "You don't think there's any chance of it going off around us, do ye?"

"You're so gullible, Khelgar," said Neeshka, rolling her eyes at the sight of the battle-hardened Dwarf backing away from a tiny badger. "You were kidding, right Kail?"

"Naloch did not call the lightning," said a voice from the top of the embankment, "but I did." Both Neeshka and Khelgar had their weapons up in a heartbeat, but Kail only watched as the figure walked down the embankment towards them. She was, quite simply, one of the most beautiful people she had ever seen. The woman's short stature and pointed ears marked her as an Elf - a Wood Elf, she guessed, judging by the woman's honey-coloured skin - and her hair and eyes were warm shades of brown. And although she looked quite young, for an Elf, there was a definite air of wisdom about her. She walked serenely, seemingly unaffected by the weapons aimed at her.

"You walk a strange path, for a Harborman, and it seems I'm not the only one who has a problem with it," said the Elf to Kail. The height difference between them wasn't all that great, and the Elf only had to lift her head a little to meet Kail's eyes. "Forgive me, but I saw these... things, about to attack you, and I found I could not stand by idly while you were ambushed... again. I would like to help you if I could. I've been trying to follow you without interfering, but I don't think you'll reach your destination without somebody who knows the land."

"Who are you?" she asked. It was difficult to meet the woman's eyes... they seemed to see right to her very soul. _Damned Elves and their eyes._

"I am Elanee," the woman smiled. "And rather than shadow you, I would walk with you."

"With a frame like that you'll most likely be blown by the wind," scoffed Khelgar. He was still holding his axe, but no longer stroking it as he often did when weighing up an enemy.

"Now now, no need to be jealous... _Barrel-house_," Neeshka quipped.

"Jealous? Of an Elf. A tree-worshipper, no less? Bah!"

"I think you will find 'tree-worshippers' a rare thing these days, Dwarf, so do not use that word lightly," said Elanee, shooting Khelgar a glance that should've frozen him on the spot.

"Trust me," said Neeshka, feigning a conspirational whisper, "with a gut like his, Khelgar doesn't do **anything** lightly."

"Will you two please let me do the talking?" Kail asked before the next Dwarf-Tiefling slanging match could start.

"Always with the talking, and to the Elves and the half-demons and the like. It'll end badly, I tell you," said Khelgar, but he stepped back nonetheless.

"You were following us?" she asked.

"It's a strange circle of who follows who on this road. At first, I was following those who attacked you, but they seemed to be following you, which leads me to believe there's something you have - something they want. So, I thought that my enemies' enemies would at least welcome some company to their destination. And, with my help, maybe even get there faster."

"You think we need your help? You've been following us for the gods only know how long, and you're a stranger. Why should we trust you?"

"Ah, a typical stubborn, suspicious Harborman attitude," the Elf's voice was cold. "Why should you trust me? Use your eyes. I just helped you fight your enemies. And what's more, I come bearing a gift, not just words. Not far from here is a druid grove, a sanctuary of sorts. It can only be found by those who know the land, and there you will be safe from those who follow you."

"Will you excuse me and my companions for a moment?" she asked Elanee. The woman nodded, and she led Khelgar and Neeshka a small distance away, feeling an almost overwhelming relief at being away from the charred corpses. "What do you think?" she asked them.

"Elves. Pah. We don't need 'em."

"Khelgar's right. I don't trust her," said Neeshka, agreeing with the warrior for once. Kail pursed her lips. She didn't believe Elanee was lying, but she couldn't bring herself to fully trust the Elf. Still, if she knew of a faster way to Highcliff... _Keep moving. Keep your head down. Don't be a target._

"I don't trust her either," she said quietly, then sighed. "But I'd rather have her walking in front of us than behind us. Still, I want both of you to keep a close eye on her. I know if there's _anything_ suspicious about her, you two will find it." Khelgar's chest puffed up and Neeshka gave her a wide grin. Of course, the Tiefling needed no encouragement to keep an eye on people - and a closer eye on their possessions.

When they returned to Elanee they found her studying the corpses on the floor, whilst the badger - Naloch, the woman had called it - sat quietly by her feet. She looked up as they approached, and gave each of them a frank, appraising glance.

"We accept your offer," Kail told her, and she smiled.

"There. That wasn't so hard to do, was it? Now, if the sun and trail read true, you're bound for Neverwinter. Seeking refuge behind city walls?"

"We're going to visit some relatives, actually," she replied. The Elf had not yet earned her trust as Khelgar and Neeshka had. She was not entitled to the whole truth yet.

"Indeed? The more distant the relatives, the better, in my experience," Elanee said cryptically. "Regardless, follow me closely. The glade is not far." Kail nodded, allowing Elanee to lead the way. Khelgar walked behind, practically on the Elf's heels, and Neeshka followed him. Kail brought up the rear, and as she turned to follow the others she was struck by an odd feeling. No, she realised, a _cessation_ of feeling. She looked back at the charred corpses behind her and, with no small measure of foreboding, realised that the prickling feeling in the back of her mind, the sure, certain knowledge that she was being followed by something unseen, had vanished.

o - o - o - o - o

"This is a long way from the road," Neeshka complained, gesturing around them at the tall meadow grass. "Are you sure you know where you're going?"

"Agreed. How much further is this place?" said Khelgar.

"Not far, for we are already here," Elanee said with a smile. "This is Eridis. 'The Maiden's Glade', in the tongue of Harbormen."

"Eridis?" said Kail. "That's Elven. Illefarn."

"You are correct," said Elanee, a hint of surprise in her voice. "Just as the Mere of Dead Men was once Meredelain, 'The Slow Marching Court', this place also had a name, long before the first settlers from Neverwinter set foot here."

"Did they _ever_ set foot here? I can barely see where we're going!" Neeshka swatted at the head of a tall plant with her bow in irritation.

"Trust me, it's no better at my height either," grunted Khelgar. "Sure as hells couldn't find my way back to the road now."

"We're closer to Highcliff than you might think. The path may seem long, but it has saved you almost a day by road," said Elanee, continuing on the path that only she saw. "The Glade up ahead is a retreat for druids - a place of shelter if they needed to heal, or rest. Many such places exist along the coast, and the animals here will shelter us from pursuers."

"Ah, **those** animals?" asked Neeshka. A pack of wolves stood in front of the travellers, their heads lowered aggressively, lips pulled back to bare long canine teeth. One of them let out a growl and the group surged forward. Thoughts of blessed refuge fled from Kail's mind as she pulled knives from hidden places.

"The animals here are frightened, and I know not why," said Elanee as she and Khelgar stood panting amongst fallen wolf corpses. "There is usually at least one druid resident in the Glade, and they should be aware of the beasts, and of us." Despite her outwardly calm demeanour, the Elf sounded worried. And frightened.

"Well, I say we avoid any wolves, or anything trying to kill us," said Neeshka, scavenging reusable arrows from the bodies.

"I say we fight them! They attack us, we attack them! Besides... I could use new boots." Khelgar was grinning, the same grin he always used when the prospect of fighting was just over the horizon. All three of them looked to Kail.

"We're not going out of our way to hunt animals," she told them, mentally counting how many throwing knives she had left. They would _definitely_ need to speak to a weaponsmith soon. "But if we are attacked, then we will defend ourselves with force."

"That is all that I ask," Elanee replied, bowing her head. She led them on, slowly, until they came to another pile of wolf bodies that were already showing signs of decay. "These animals were slaughtered. And not for food, but out of blood-lust." There was true horror in her voice as her eyes skimmed the bodies. "Is this why the animals attacked us?" she asked in a whisper. Then she turned to face the others. "I had hoped that the Circle of the Mere would be aware of any disturbance here, but now it seems the task must fall to us."

"Argh, why? Let's just go. I'm done stomping through these groves and animals... and letting _her_ pick the trail," said Neeshka. Kail looked to Elanee; the Elf's eyes held a hint of pleading hope, and conveyed _'please'_ without the need for words.

"We're already here. We might as well take a look around. If we've saved a day by road, a couple more hours won't make much difference," she said. Elanee smiled.

"You have my thanks. I would hate for whatever pursues us to be at our back." Neeshka merely rolled her eyes, and stuck her tongue out at the Elf when she turned away.

The slender woman lead them through a series of twists and turns, but seemed to know where she was going. Kail had to admit to herself; the Glade was beautiful. It had the same sort of untouched beauty that much of the Mere held, but this place was not tainted with the bodies and spirits of soldiers and warriors long-dead. The air was clean and pure, the sun seemed especially warm, and with the birds singing in the treetops, the Glade seemed to radiate calm.

And then an enormous bear came shambling towards them, raising itself to its full height and swiping at them with massive clawed paws. Kail ducked and rolled, landing safely outside the bear's range, her hands moving instinctively to her knives. Elanee was attempting to cast a charm spell on the creature, trying futilely to soothe the enraged beast. Neeshka was stood to one side, shooting arrows which seemed to have no effect on the bear's thick fur, but Khelgar was not so lucky. The bear caught him a blow which even his chainmail could not fully absorb, and the Dwarf was lying winded on the floor as the bear towered over him.

_Crap,_ she thought. If the bear brought its full weight down on Khelgar, the short man would be meeting Clangeddin a lot sooner than he had hoped. _Can't kill it fast enough... disable it!_ She unsheathed one dagger and ran around to the back of the bear, avoiding another swipe from its claws. Then she sank her blade into what she hoped was the creature's knee, dragging it across the leg by both hands to sever the hamstring. The animal roared in agony, and, unable to support its full weight on its ruined leg, toppled unmajestically backward. She scrambled out of the way just in time, and narrowly avoided being landed on. The bear lay on its side, breathing heavily, and Elanee approached it warily as she and Neeshka hauled Khelgar to his feet.

"Elanee... you are... here..." the bear gasped in an unnatural, rasping voice. Kail blinked in surprise. How could she understand the bear's words? She had no skill with talking to animals. Beside the bear, Elanee gasped in alarm.

"Kaleil?" asked the druid, crouching down to smooth her hands over the bear's head.

"I... I came here. To try to find you, Elanee. To try and escape the Mere... to seek refuge here."

"The Mere? What is wrong?"

"It... speaks with a different voice now. Its waters... once clear to the Circle, are now dark, and run deep... so deep..."

"What do you mean? Where are the others? The rest of the Circle?" asked Elanee, and Kail knew she wasn't the only one who heard the desperation in the Elf's voice. Beside her Neeshka and Khelgar were still, their gazes fixed intently on the druid and the bear.

"Vashne and the others... they are lost. Only you remain. I thought I could find you, or Naevan... but what claims the Mere took me, clouded my visions with shadows and blood... trapped me in this form," the bear wheezed. "Do not return to the Mere, Elanee. Do not. Or you shall fall to its corruption... as I did." The bear let out a deep sigh, and was still.

"I... Kaleil... he's... dead," said Elanee softly. "It was he who caused such unrest here... and why the animals attacked us."

"What was he saying about the land being corrupted?" Kail asked.

"I... don't know. I have been away from the Circle for some time."

"The Circle?"

"Kaleil and I are... were... part of the Circle of Meredelain. If the others... if Vashne is lost, and Naeven is lost... I have been away too long, but this would explain why I could not feel the Circle any longer. And as for the land..." She shook her head, steeling her voice. "But we should press on. I promised to lead you to Highcliff, and so far this path has proved longer than I wished." She turned and placed her hand on the bear's head. "Farewell, Kaleil. May you find rest. And may the Glade become peaceful again."

"Do you want a moment, to... say goodbye to your friend? Pray, or whatever it is druids do?" Kail asked her. She would not begrudge anybody the right to say goodbye to a friend. Her own goodbye was still waiting_. Amie_... The other woman shook her head.

"No, but thank you. Here, I can at least undo a little of damage wrought by Kaleil in his maddened state," said Elanee. She walked to Khelgar and placed her hands on the Dwarf's head, chanting the words of a healing spell. Kail felt a slight twinge of guilt. She should have seen to Khelgar's injuries herself. She had some minor healing abilities - not as much as Elanee, true, but enough to take the edge off her friend's pain. In the heat of battle, and the conversation that followed, she had completely forgotten that Khelgar had almost had his ribs crushed.

"Hnh. Thanks, Elf," Khelgar said grudgingly. "And, uh... I'm sorry for the loss of your friend." Elanee said nothing, but gave him a wan smile, and turned to lead them from Eridis.


	7. Flotsam and Fires

_7. Flotsam and Fires_

"I'm not so sure about this. If Dwarves were supposed to float on water, we woulda' been born with oars for arms and sails for beards!" said Khelgar. The Comrades Three-turned-Comrades Four were walking along the narrow beach towards Highcliff docks. Ahead of them, pulling out into the bay, was a large ship. Kail desperately hoped that it wasn't the Double Eagle. If they were too late to catch the ship they would be stranded in Highcliff indefinitely. Her father had assured her that the ship would be waiting, but what if the captain hadn't been able to wait any longer?

"Don't be a big baby, moss-breath. Travelling by boat is a _lot_ safer than travelling by land, especially if you're being hunted. Trust me, I know," replied Neeshka. Kail shot a glance at Elanee, but the Elven woman said nothing. She had been silent since they left Eridis, and Kail guessed that she was still coming to terms with the loss of her friend, and her Circle.

A loud, wood-shattering sound came from the ship, and she turned in time to see the vessel sink slowly into the water. It floundered for a moment, swaying from side to side, and then began its inevitable plunge to the bed of the bay. Figures, small at this distance, jumped from the ship into the water, and began swimming for the shore. When the boat finally stopped sinking, only the highest part of the mast was visible.

"Right. The High Road to Neverwinter it is. I'll carve me way through bandits and brigands if I have to, but there's no way yer getting me on one of those... those... death-traps!"

"Come on, let's go and find out what's happened," said Kail, breaking into a trot. She felt her heart beat in her chest as she and her companions jogged to the docks. _Please don't be the Double Eagle, please don't be the Double Eagle,_ she thought. Spying a figure stood idly by a second, moored ship, she approached as she caught her breath.

"You's a funny looking bunch," said the Half-Orc sailor, taking in the group with a glance. Kail bit back one of the many scathing replies that tried to jump from her tongue.

"Was that the Double Eagle?" she asked, gesturing at the sunken ship.

"Nope. This 'ere's the Double Eagle," said the Half-Orc. He patted the hull of the ship fondly.

"Thank the Gods," she sighed. "What happened to that ship?"

"Lizardmen," grunted the sailor. "They come at night and put holes in the ships. Any what leaves the dock sink like they was full of rocks. We's all stuck 'ere."

"Can't you just repair the damage and leave?"

"Tried it, twice. Damn lizards is tricky. Didn't even 'ear 'em the second time. Can't catch 'em either."

"Where can I find Captain Flinn?" she asked.

"Gettin' tipsy in the tavern. Top a' the hill, centre of the town. Can't miss it." She thanked the sailor and led her companions up the flight of wooden steps built into the side of the cliff, and the small town of Highcliff greeted their eyes. Here she was content to trust to the uncanny Dwarven ability to unerringly find the closest supply of ale, and they all followed Khelgar to a small tavern in the centre of town.

A motley gang of sailors were standing around outside the tavern, and Kail concentrated on their conversation as Khelgar led the way inside; most of them were complaining about the lizardmen and the poor quality of Highcliff's ale. The inside of the building wasn't much different, and although there were a great many sailors packed into the tavern, rubbing elbows with local farmers, it seemed almost too quiet. Her hands itched to pick up her flute, to try and lighten the oppressive mood, but she kept them firmly away from the instrument. She was here to catch a ship, not to play music.

"Captain Flinn?" she asked of the bar keeper. He nodded to a man sitting alone at a small table, nursing a tankard of watery ale. She thanked him, and slipped into the chair opposite the man as Neeshka, Elanee and Khelgar reallocated chairs for themselves from other tables. "Captain Flinn?"

"That's me. Captain of a ship that can't sail. Have you come to rub salt in my wounds?" he asked despondently.

"No. My father, Daeghun, sent me. He said you could take me to Neverwinter."

"Ah, so you're Daeghun's whelp. The old man still playing farmer in that swamp, is he? Well, right now, it wouldn't matter if Talos himself sent you with good tides and favourable winds. I _still_ wouldn't pull out of the docks."

"Your... ah... Half-Orc mentioned something about lizardmen..." she prompted him.

"Damn things are sabotaging the ship faster than we can mend it. We tried putting nets out, but they just cut right through them. Until they're stopped, I won't risk leaving." He downed the last of his ale and called to the bar keeper for another tankard.

"Why are you drinking so much?" she asked him.

"Do you know what it's like to lose thousands of gold worth of cargo?"

"No, I've never been in a position to lose that much gold before."

"Well, that's why I'm drinking so much. I tell you, it's almost enough to make me wish I was a farmer. And you _know_ things are getting bad when you wish you were a farmer."

"_I'm_ a farmer," she said, raising an eyebrow at the Captain.

"Ah, that's right." He sniffed. "Got that smell about you. It's like... peat moss, on your clothes."

"He's right, lass. We're going to have to do something about that odour of yours," Khelgar said.

"I like the smell of peat moss," sniffed Elanee. "It's much nicer than the smell of taverns."

"Back to the lizardmen," said Kail, resisting the urge to twirl one of her knives around her fingers. Gods, was she going to have to put up with comments about the smell of the swamp for the rest of her life? If one more person mentioned it, she would not be held responsible for her actions. "Do you have any idea where they're striking from?"

"If I knew that, I'd tell Elder Mayne to do something about them," said Flinn.

"Alright, where can we find this Elder?" she asked, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"He'll be around in the village somewhere," the Captain shrugged.

"Then I'll go and speak to him about this... problem." She raised an admonitory finger at Flinn. "Don't go anywhere."

"Har bloody har," he said, raising his tankard to her and taking a swig as she led her companions outside.

"Lass, maybe ye shouldn't antagonise the sailors. No telling what they'll do to ye out on the open water. Why, you could wake up at the bottom of the ocean!" said Khelgar, shooting the nearest sailors a defiant, yet oddly small, glare.

"Forget about the sailors for now. At the rate things are going, we're more likely to die of old age before catching a ship from here." She caught the arm of a local-looking passerby and asked for directions to the Elder. And Elder Mayne, when they found him, was indeed an elder. He looked to be about fifty going on two hundred. His face was a burdened mask of anguish, and he looked as if he hadn't had a moment's sleep in months. He gave them a pained glance as they approached.

"Elder Mayne?" Kail asked.

"Yes, how can I help you?" he sighed.

"We have heard that you have a problem, and we would like to help."

"Which problem do you want to help with?"

"You have more than one?" she asked.

"Missing people, lizardmen attacking farms, ships being sunk, brigands on The High Road... to name those out of the ordinary."

"The lizardmen. Any idea where they're coming from?" He eyed her for a moment.

"No. But I won't send anybody after them. It'll only lead to your deaths, and I won't have that on my head," he replied.

Kail sighed. All she wanted was to get to Neverwinter. She didn't want to deal with everybody else's problems. She didn't want to be responsible for the fate of Highcliff. They thought they had problems now? If the creatures following her found her here, they would raze this stupid town to the ground. Highcliff would burn just as West Harbor had. If these people couldn't even deal with _lizardfolk_, how would they ever manage to fend off Duergar and Bladelings? _Not to mention that mage who killed Amie..._ She turned her attention back to Elder Mayne, slipped one of her knives from her bracer, and flipped it casually over the knuckles of each finger whilst her insides started burning with anger.

"I think you misunderstand, Elder. I am going to Neverwinter. On the Double Eagle. Which will sail from this port in two days time. _You_ will tell me how I can find out more about these lizardmen, and _I_ will see that they stop bothering you. If you are worried that my companions and I cannot take care of ourselves, you may send one of your men back along to road to Fort Locke, to examine the trail of bodies that litter my path. Now. Where. Do. They. Come. From?"

"Err... I don't know. But if you speak to Shandra -- she's one of the farmers, and the only one who has remained on her farm whilst the lizardlings have been burning them down -- she might be able to tell you more. I... err, would appreciate anything you can do for us." She smiled and handed the man her map and a charcoal stick.

"Shandra's farm?" He scratched a quick mark onto the map, and handed it back. "Thank you. I will see you again in two days, Elder. Have the Double Eagle ready." Then, because the tiny voice of Lucas was prompting her from the corner of her mind, she lifted an imaginary hat and bowed low to the man with a flourish of her cape, before whirling around to lead her companions to the road out of town.

o - o - o - o - o

Khelgar, Neeshka and Elanee had been unusually quiet on the trek to the farm. They probably thought she was crazy. She didn't mind. It meant she had a little more peace and quiet than usual. She hadn't realised it until now, but travelling with people taxed her, mentally and emotionally. Physical exertion was nothing new to her, of course; everybody in West Harbor pulled their weight and worked together, and she often travelled around the lands adjacent to the Mere with Daeghun. No, it wasn't her stamina that was being strained on the journey to Neverwinter -- it was her social skills. Growing up as an only child, with only one parent, she had become used to quietness, used to slow, predictable conversations, used to amusing herself without having to rely on others. And even when she had become friends with Amie and Bevil, it had been a... natural sort of friendship. They often understood each other intuitively, didn't need to explain their motives, their feelings. They all understood that Amie was talented and intelligent, that Kail was a little eccentric, that Bevil was placid and dependable. Amie had been the brains of their friendship. Bevil had been its strength. And Kail was its heart. _We were children. And now I have to grow up._

During their travels, she had come to a deeper understanding of her current companions. Khelgar reminded her of Bevil, a little. He was brave and honest, and didn't shirk his responsibilities. Neeshka, like Amie, was quick and intelligent. She was honest, in her own special way, but also had a wicked sense of humour, though she wasn't usually malicious. Elanee was a contradiction. At times the Elf seemed to take on a motherly role, but she was quick to make an immature quip if the occasion arose. Most of the time she seemed at peace. Serene. But there was also an air of deep sadness about her, as if she had lost everything dear to her and never gotten over it. _Probably all this 'Circle' stuff,_ she thought to herself.

"Eh, this looks like the place..." Khelgar's words broke her out of her reverie as the companions stepped off the wooded path and into a flat open space. A large barn and a small house stood at the side of the large clearing, and the nearby fields were empty, their crops only recently harvested. Overhead, Kail's crow let out a cry, then landed on one of the resident scarecrows, perching on what passed for a shoulder. She smiled at the irony.

"What are you doing here?" asked a voice from the nearby house. "Did Mayne send you?" A woman stepped out of the doorway; sun-blonde hair fell in waves and tumbles to her upper back, and eyes the colour of light hazel regarded their group with suspicion. In her dusty hands she held a pitchfork, and she looked as if she knew how to use it.

"We are the Comrades Four mercenary group," said Kail, giving the woman a bow and a flourish. Oh yes, she was definitely in performance mode now. But... maybe 'adventuring group' sounded better than 'mercenary group'. Less formal, less military. But less professional. She made a mental note to ask the others' opinons on it later. "And yes, we're here to put a stop to the lizardmen."

"Well it's about time. I've been waiting for Mayne to get off his hands and do something about it for a long time. I would have tried to find them myself, but I haven't been able to leave my harvest. In fact, I should be making my yearly run through Port Llast and Ember right now. I have friends there who are relying on these goods. But, with the problems on The High Road, and now these attacks by the lizardfolk, I just haven't been able to leave."

"Problems on The High Road? You mean these brigands we've been hearing about?" asked Khelgar. Kail could almost _hear_ him thinking of travelling that way instead of by ship. _Ah, master Dwarf, you're in for a disappointment._

"Brigands? I suppose it **could** be," Shandra admitted reluctantly. "All I know is that nobody who's left for The High Road has been seen again. And worse there have been reported sightings of... things, walking. Corpses and the like."

"I hate the undead," said Kail with feeling. "Are there any graveyards around here?"

"No. The big one by Fort Locke is the closest, and that's one of the smaller ones. So many people died during the war with the King of Shadows long ago, that their bodies just stayed where they fell. Some farmers can't take a plough to their fields without turning up an old weapon or two. And it's said there were demons involved in the fighting as well."

"I thought I felt something," said Neeshka, giving an involuntary shiver. "It's in the ground, all around us. Like I can sense a very old demonic presence." Kail reached out and gave the Tiefling's arm a reassuring squeeze.

"The living dead aside for the moment, how long have these lizardfolk attacks been happening for?" she asked Shandra.

"For the past few months, at least."

"A few months?" asked Elanee, appearing to be listening to the conversation for the first time. "Then these lizardfolk may have come from the Mere."

"What do you mean?" Kail asked.

"Over the past few months, tribes of lizardmen have been leaving the Mere, and I believe that something has been driving them out. They may have been forced to resettle here," the druid explained.

"Well, I'd be more than happy to leave them alone, as long as they leave us alone. But with everything that's happened... the ships in the harbour being sabotaged, and our livelihoods being burnt down..." Shandra let the sentence trail off.

"Has anybody been killed?" asked Kail.

"No, thankfully not. Only the ships and the crops have been damaged."

"It's strange that they haven't killed anybody," said Neeshka with a thoughtful expression. She turned her deep red eyes to Shandra and gave her a tiny smile. "I've heard they... ah... eat people." The other woman paled.

"It could be that the lizardfolk are afraid to push the townspeople too far," Elanee suggested.

"I'm not sure how much further these folks can be pushed!" exclaimed Khelgar.

"The shedding of blood amongst lizardmen tribes is... different," the Elf explained. "Whilst damaging items or property is more... well... territorial."

"Do you know where the lizardmen are striking from?" Kail asked Shandra.

"Well... at first I thought that their base must be somewhere near water, but now I'm not so sure. A few days ago I noticed campfires up at the old Castle ruins."

"What Castle?"

"Highcliff Castle. It's not far from here, and was once a pretty important Keep in the war. Still, I'm not sure if it even _is_ lizardmen up there. I've only seen the fires for the past few nights, and these attacks have been happening for months. But I'll mark it on your map for you, if you like." A blur of movement by the buildings caught Kail's attention, and her head snapped up to the figures sneaking into the barn.

"Ah... you better turn around," she said to Shandra.

"Why, what's behind..." she turned in time to see flames lick at the side of her barn, and then the dry thatch roof caught alight too, "...me. My barn! The harvest! They were here, waiting for me to drop my guard, waiting for me to turn my back..."

"I'm sorry," said Kail. "We didn't mean to distract you." Shandra squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples.

"Look. If you're going to help, do it. I'm _tired_ of meaningless words, and the Elder, and... everything. Without our harvests, we won't make it through the winter. We need the shipping routes opened, and we need it now. So please... do whatever it is that you came here to do, and leave me to sort out my barn."

Khelgar opened his mouth but Kail put a finger to her lips and shook her head. This was one battle the Dwarf could not win. Silently, she led her companions back to the path. The crow flapped its wings, rising from the scarecrow to follow them with a raucous cry, and even though she couldn't understand what the animal was saying, she was left with the impression that it was, in its own bird-like way, laughing.


	8. Slaan

_8. Slaan_

"I hate the undead," said Kail with feeling.

"Time to put the old girl to some use," said Khelgar, taking out his fiery mace. She nodded, her eyes fixed on the four zombies who were attacking a lizardman warrior outside the main entrance to Highcliff Castle. The creature was hissing in anger at the walking corpses, stabbing at them with his short swords as he backed towards the wall. Elanee quietly chanted the words to a spell, conveying a fire enchantment to Kail's daggers, and to her own scimitar. Neeshka was already knocking a flaming arrow onto her bow, courtesy of Fort Locke's fletcher.

"Ready when you are, master brawler," Kail smiled. Khelgar grunted, vaulting over the crumbling wall which they were crouched behind in a surprising display of agility. Kail leapt after him, with Elanee and Naloch on her heels, as the first of Neeshka's arrows zipped past their heads.

_Hack, slash, roll, jump back, kick low, slice high, duck, roll, coup de grâce..._ As she mentally chanted to herself, she didn't even notice one of the zombies approach her. She caught movement from the corner of her eye, but not in time to avoid the blow. Its fists collided with her ribs -- Gods, nothing Human-sized should be allowed to hit with that sort of strength! -- and sent her flying. She hit the high wall of the Castle's tower, banging her head roughly on the stones as she coughed, the wind knocked out of her lungs.

Spots of colour danced all around her, and she was only vaguely aware of somebody approaching. She cried out in pain when two pairs of hands hauled her to her feet, sure that at least one of her ribs was broken. One of the pairs of hands supported her whilst the second person chanted, and as Elanee placed her cool hands on Kail's shoulder, she felt all the pain disappear from her body.

"Thanks," she said with a grateful smile for the Elf. Then she patted Neeshka's hands, still beneath her arms as if the other woman was expecting to bear her weight, and looked around for Khelgar. The Dwarf was only a few feet away, bashing one of the zombie's skulls with his mace. The rest of the corpses lay unmoving.

"Guess not even you can be lucky all the time, lass," Khelgar said, turning to her.

"I think it has less to do with luck, and more to do with paying attention," she told him wryly. Using her fingers she gently pressed her skin beneath her shirt, but Elanee's healing had been thoroughly effective. There wasn't even any bruising. Satisfied that she and her friends would live, she turned her attention to the lizard, sheathing her daggers as she stepped around the corpses.

"Stay back! Sssslaan not fight you. Sssslaan must return to chieftain, bring more warriors," he -- or what she _assumed_ was a he -- said.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Ssslaan leads warriors, breaks human boatssss. But dead onessss take Ssslaan's men. Sssslaan must fetch help."

"We should try to find a way to speak to this chieftain," Elanee whispered. She met the druid's calm, light brown eyes for a moment, then nodded.

"Ah, Slaan. If we help you to save your men, will you take us to see your chieftain?" she asked. The lizard studied her for a moment.

"Why should Ssslaan trussst you?" It was an echo of what she had once asked Elanee, and from the corner of her eye she saw the Elf suppress a smile.

"If we wanted to kill you, we would have done that already. I just want to talk to your chieftain. That's all."

"Ssslaan believesss you. Men are thisss way. Follow." Slaan turned to the Castle door, beckoning them forward with a wave of his hand.

"I hope you know what you're doing, lass. Letting him live is one thing, but fighting beside him? Hnh, I don't know..." said Khelgar skeptically.

"Don't let him bother you. **I** trust you," said Neeshka. Behind them both, Elanee rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Thanks. I guess we'll just see where this path leads," she told them. She let out a sharp whistle, calling the crow to land on her outstretched arm, then followed Slaan into the dark opening of Highcliff Castle.

o - o - o - o - o

"Did I mention that I hate the undead?" Kail asked as she messily finished off another zombie.

"Once or twice," said Neeshka, rolling her eyes.

"Ssslaan dessspisesss the walking dead alsssso," said the lizard.

"Good," Kail grinned. "Something we have in common. I sure as hell wish Brother Merring was here."

"Brother who?" asked Khelgar. They made their way out of the empty room, slowly following Neeshka down the corridor as she checked for traps. There weren't many, but it seemed some had been left active by the Castle's last occupants. Only fast reflexes had saved Kail from a particularly nasty set of spikes that had sprang up out of the floor the first time they tripped one of the traps.

"Brother Merring. He's a priest of Lathander who lives in West Harbor. This place could use a little of the Morninglord's light right about now, I think."

"I agree. This place feels... wrong. Corrupted," said Elanee. "It possesses the same darkness that I felt in the Mere."

"Down!" hissed Neeshka, and immediately they all dropped into crouching positions. When the explosions she had been expecting did not come, Kail raised an eyebrow at the Tiefling. The other woman merely gestured for them to approach, slowly. "Another one of those priests. Like the one we killed in the graveyard crypts outside of Fort Locke. He has one of those altars, and a group of zombie friends, and it looks like he's talking to someone."

"Let me get a closer look," she whispered back. Neeshka relinquished her place, and Kail stuck her head around the doorway, feeling the others crowd in behind her, creating a pile of warm bodies on the floor of the cold corridor. Trying to block out the sounds of her companions' breathing, she strained her hearing, watching the priest's masked face.

"Master of the Fifth Tower. You grace me with your presence," said the priest.

"Yes, I'm certain. The raising of the army and the attacks on Fort Locke... how do they proceed?" Kail's heart went cold at the words. So there _had_ been something more to the undead there. She tried to catch a glimpse of the second speaker, but he was hidden behind the door. All she could make out was the edge of a dark robe, not unlike the one the priest wore.

"There... have been complications, milord. One of our disciples near Fort Locke has been slain. It shall not affect our plans at the fort, nor the raising of our troops. Our power runs strong here. The war our master pursued here so long ago still fuels our magic. Our enemies shall not prevail."

"As long as Neverwinter is occupied, then you have served me. And through me, your master," said the second speaker.

"We are _all_ in the service of the King of Shadows, Lord Garius." Her mouth dried out at the name. _Garius. That's who Tann said the last priest was working for. He must get around a lot. But why does he want Neverwinter's attention occupied? And what is this... Fifth Tower?_ "Sometimes we forget he is all around us, and there are no ranks and hierarchies before Him."

"Think what you will, as long as you carry out my orders." The crow flapped its wings, skittering across the floor, and the first speaker's masked face twisted to the doorway. "Ah, it seems someone else has come to pay their respects, priest. Perhaps the same ones who slaughtered the priest at Fort Locke. I suggest you deal with them before you share the same fate."

Even before the mysterious figure had finished speaking, Khelgar was rushing around the corner with Slaan on his heels. _Men! Why did they always have to be first into a fight? Bevil, Khelgar, Slaan... human, dwarf, lizardfolk... race didn't seem to factor into it. _She followed the men, drawing her daggers and slashing at one of the zombies. Khelgar and Slaan were already fighting their way to the priest, and from behind, Neeshka let her arrows fly. Kail dodged a blow from a zombie, cutting upwards with her dagger to sever its arm as she rolled past it. _Concentrate, girl. Killing first. Ponder the meaning-of-life stuff later._

Some breathless moments later, Neeshka picked over the still body of the priest. Of the second speaker, Garius, there was no sign. Slaan examined the altar suspiciously as everybody else clustered around the priest.

"Thoughts on our mysterious friend Garius?" Kail asked.

"A ghost?" suggested Khelgar.

"An illusion. A projection," said Elanee.

"A major pain in the tail," Neeshka grumbled. "Is he _purposely_ raising hordes of undead, just to annoy us? And zombies? Skeletons? These guys are almost entirely decayed and lacking pockets. He could have the decency to raise newly dead people, ones who haven't had their valuables removed by friends and relatives."

"Ah, yes. We'd better press on. Carefully, though. I don't want to run headlong into another of these priests," said Kail.

o - o - o - o - o

Elanee tried to order her thoughts as Slaan led them to his chieftain's hidden lair. The Comrades Four-plus-Slaan, as Kail called them, had found the rest of the lizardfolk warriors barricaded in a room, deep in Highcliff Castle. Now, true to his word, the lizardman was taking them to speak to his chief. With any luck, this could be resolved without bloodshed. There had already been too much of that...

_Silvanus, why must I feel so torn?_ she thought silently to her god. Always, before, she had known her own mind, known her duty, known her place in this world. But now, after everything that had happened over the past few days, she found herself... doubting. It was a disconcerting feeling. Even when she had been orphaned in the Mere, before she had been found by the Circle, even then she had not felt so small, so alone.

Right now she wished, with all of her heart, that she could just give up her current path, return to the Mere, find out what had happened to the others. If Kaleil's dying words had been true... if she was the last of the Circle of Merdelain... how could she continue to protect the land alone? And protect it from what? From these creatures that were following Kail? No... it was strange, but although the creatures undoubtedly meant harm to Kail -- and anybody with her -- she did not get the same sense of evil and corruption from them as she did from that priest in the Castle. If what the priest said was true, if the King of Shadows really _was_ touching the world once again...

The light grew dim as Slaan led them into a damp cave, and soon the soft orange glow of torchlight completely replaced the light of the day. She gave the torches a wry smile. It often surprised people that lizardmen used fire. People thought that the lizards were primitives, savages, but that wasn't true at all. Their ways were different, yes, but they were intelligent beings, and their lives were steeped greatly in ceremony, with emphasis on honour to the chieftain and the spirits.

Khelgar and Neeshka were looking around them curiously, shooting glances at the spear-carrying lizardfolk warriors lining the walls. Kail merely looked straight ahead, her posture as relaxed as it would be if she was strolling through her village, though Elanee suspected she was taking in as much as the others. The bard certainly had a lot of her foster father's mannerisms; the cold, impartial tone of voice, the way she tried not to let others see her emotions, even the way she affected to be unconcerned with the happenings around her. She had been watching the young woman for a long time, and often felt that she was no closer to understanding her true nature now than when she had first started.

For all Daeghun's influence on Kail, for all that she behaved as an aloof young woman, there were times when her behaviour became... erratic. Even more so than what seemed usual for Humans. Take Captain Flinn and Elder Mayne, for example. A quiet word of reassurance to either of them would have done more good than the little... performances she gave. What in Silvanus' name possessed the woman to start playing with her knife like that in front of the Elder? True, she hadn't actually made a threat, as such... but the man had obviously been unnerved.

She suspected Lucas' hand in this. She had often watched the old man teaching Kail whenever he visited West Harbor. At first it was only at Daeghun's behest, but after a time he seemed to enjoy teaching Kail as much as the young woman enjoyed learning. Although she hadn't always been able to get close enough to clearly see or hear them, it seemed that he taught her about a wide range of things; poetry, songs, music, stories, and his flashy fighting style. And, she had to admit, so far the old man's lessons seemed to be serving his 'apprentice' well.

The party stopped walking, and Slaan approached the biggest lizardman she had ever seen. Obviously this one had great strength, as well as great cunning. He assessed them, judging the threat that they posed, in a single brief glance.

"Sssslaaaaan. Why did you bring waaaarm bloodsssss to our clan?" he asked.

"They saved Ssslaan's warriors, helped Ssslaan fight the dead that walk. We had a bargain," replied their reptilian companion.

"Sssslaaaan is foolish, but a bargain musssst be honoured. What do you want, warm bloodssss?"

"I want to know why you are burning the Highcliff farms, and why you are damaging their ships," said Kail.

"Waaaarm bloodssss need boatssss to walk on water. If we break boatsss, warm bloodssss musssst leave," the chieftain explained.

"What?"

"All waaaarm bloodssss think all lizardfolk the sssssame. Try to hurt ussss, try to kill ussss. But thissss is our home now. We do not have numberssss to fight warm bloodssss, so burn boatsss instead. Make them leave."

"So if the villagers will leave you alone, you will leave them alone?" Kail asked him, taking a step forward. One or two of the lizardmen guards eyed her suspiciously. Elanee knew how they felt. The bard was unpredictable at the best of times. She truly had no idea if Kail would try to resolve this peacefully, or whether she would let a few of those daggers fly. She probably realised that without the chieftain, the tribe would not be much of a threat. _Please don't do anything hasty_, she thought almost desperately at the young woman's back.

"Yessss. But humanssss cannot be trussssted." Kail eyed the chieften thoughtfully, her head tilted to one side. Her eyes were slightly glazed, as if she was listening to something only she heard. Elanee smiled to herself; she probably looked the same when she was listening to the land, but what Kail was listening to she had no idea.

"I don't suppose you'd believe that I'm an incarnation of the Stone God?" the bard asked at last. Elanee blinked in surprise, and saw the same look of confusion painting the faces of Khelgar and Neeshka. Then the Tiefling grinned, and the Dwarf shook his head, muttering something in dwarfish under his breath. The lizardfolk chieftain merely gave her a blank stare. "No, I suppose not," said Kail. "But look. I can get the village Elder, their chieftain, to agree to leave your people alone, if you will do the same. There is plenty of room here for the both of you. What do you say?" Elanee let out the breath she had been holding. _Thank you,_ she thought to anybody who was listening. Perhaps this would be one encounter they would not have to fight their way out of.

"We be trussssting you, waaarm blood. But if humanssss break promise..."

"Then you will do as you think best," finished Kail.

"Go now, and do not fail ussss," said the chieftain. Kail gave him one of her mock-bows, the same one she had used for the Elder, and turned to them with a self-satisfied grin.

"One down, one to go," she said. "By this time tomorrow Khelgar will be cursing the gods, and we'll be on our way to Neverwinter." The Dwarf groaned, and followed Kail out of the cave. Elanee nodded to herself, bringing up the rear. Yes. She could not return to the Mere yet, not if it was as dangerous as Kaleil had claimed. For now, her path lay with Kail; and with Kail, lay answers.


	9. The Eagle's Decks

_9. The Eagle's Decks_

"Alright then, what about this one?" Kail closed her eyes, put her reed-pipe flute to her mouth, letting her fingers dance over the holes of the instrument as she played a familiar West Harbor dancing song.

"Not bad, not bad," said Jadar when she had finished. He lifted his own tin whistle to his lips, repeating her song note for note. It didn't sound the same, of course; the whistle produced a higher, more metallic pitch than her own deeper reed flute, but he accurately reproduced the notes and the rhythm. "Now try this, Sha." Kail watched the Half-Elven sailor as he played a jaunty sea shanty tune. When he had finished she tried to repeat it, and made quite a decent attempt. A few of her notes were out of key, but she was fast improving. As she finished, her crow cawed from overhead.

"You know, I never thought I'd see the day when this thing was put to literal use," said Jadar wryly. She grinned, shifting her position slightly on the hard wooden boards. She and Jadar were inside the crow's nest, sitting opposite each other, their backs and legs braced against the circular feature. The rolling movement of the deep-drafted ship was quite noticeable on the main deck, as Khelgar had found out as soon as they had pulled away from Highcliff dock, but up here, high above the deck, the rocking motion was increased tenfold. Neeshka was the only one of her companions who would come up here, but even she admitted that she cared little for the sight of endless ocean. So, for the first time in what felt like weeks, Kail had a little peace and quiet, and she was enjoying it immensely.

"I have something for you, Sha," Jadar said, sliding himself around the nest to sit beside her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of material which, when he unravelled it, turned out to be a red kerchief with dolphins picked out around the border in silver thread. He folded it in half and then tied it around her head, sweeping back most of her hair from her face in the process.

"How do I look?" she asked, turning her head so he could study her profile from both sides.

"Like a farmer in a crow's nest," he admitted. "But there is an ancient naval tradition that I would like to introduce you to."

"Certainly. As long as it doesn't involve hanging upside down from anywhere." He smiled, leant forward, and brushed his lips against hers. "I refuse to believe that's an ancient naval tradition," she said when he pulled away. He smiled.

"It is my own ancient naval tradition, to steal a kiss from every female passenger we carry. And yes, I intend to do likewise with your friends Neeshka and Elanee. I'm not yet sure about the Dwarf. His complaining would shame even the most dainty of women, yet he drinks ale like a man," Jadar winked.

"Well, I think Neeshka might be amenable, but you'll have more success getting a kiss from Khelgar than from Elanee, I think," she laughed.

"Ah well, it's not the first time I've met with Elven prejudice. But perhaps you could put in a good word for me with her."

"I'll see what I can do. I'd hate for you to break your long-standing tradition, after all," she smiled.

"Ahoy!" came a voice from the deck. Jadar stood and peered down, then waved.

"Grishnak wants you," he told her, the wind whipping is words away as soon as he spoke them. She nodded, and let him help her to stand, and the wind streamed around her as she raised her body above the upper planks of the crow's nest. Reaching out one hand, she grasped the net beside the nest and halted, one leg inside, the other resting on the thick ropes of the rigging.

"Jadar? What would you do if we picked up a Half-Orc woman as a passenger in Neverwinter?" she asked mischievously.

"Give up sailing and become a farmer," he smiled. She laughed, and scampered down the ropes, leaving Jadar to his whistling.

"Cap'n wants t' see yer," said Grishnak, the Double Eagle's Half-Orcish first mate. She nodded, and followed him as he led the way to Flinn's cabin. As they crossed the deck she looked around for her companions, and spotted Neeshka rolling dice with a group of sailors, and, further away, Elanee sat dejectedly at the aft of the ship. The Elf was wrapped in Kail's cloak, since trying to wear a cloak on a ship was an exercise in futility; the wind tried to whip it away, making it hard to balance. As they passed she waved at Elanee, and the druid returned the gesture without a smile. _Probably still worried about the land,_ she thought.

Though she knew the way to Captain Flinn's cabin, she allowed Grishnak to lead her there. The first mate knocked on the door, and opened it without waiting for a response.

"Kail t' see yer, Cap'n," he said, then stepped aside, allowing her to enter the room. The Captain looked up from a map he was studying and Grishnak left, closing the door behind him.

"You'll be pleased to hear that we'll be in sight of Neverwinter's docks early on the morrow," said Flinn. She nodded without comment. 'Pleased' was not the word she would have used. The journey on the ship had been a reprieve. It had been a chance for her to recover from being constantly pursued. A chance for her to have a little rest, and to practise her flute, and to learn some sea shanties, and to play in the ship's rigging as long as -- and Grishnak had been quite adamant about this -- she didn't touch _any_ of the cogs, levers, winches or other technical things that she didn't have names for. In short, the Double Eagle had been an escape. And now Captain Flinn had brought her back to reality. As Neverwinter loomed closer, so did her responsibilities and her problems. "I just wanted to offer you the chance to stay on with us a while longer."

"Stay on?" she asked in surprise.

"After we've delivered this cargo in Neverwinter we'll be taking on more, then making a run down to Waterdeep. It seems that you have a knack for solving problems, and you've certainly taken to ship life pretty quick. Plus you have a pair of lungs on you that would shame half the bards in Faerûn." She blushed slightly at Flinn's words. Jadar, in his role as ship's shantyman, had been teaching her to call lines in songs, which helped the sailors going about their duties.

"Thank you for the offer, Captain," she said, genuinely touched that he thought she would make a good sailor. "I will think it over. However, you should know that I have business to attend to in Neverwinter, and I don't know how long I will be staying there for."

"Ahh, as secretive as your father, aren't you?" he smiled. "Well, we'll be docked at Neverwinter for a day or two. If you change your mind and want to see a little more of the coast from this side of it, just stop by whenever you like. But, ah, maybe leave your friends on the shore." She stifled a grin as she slipped out of the door, recognising the dismissal in Flinn's voice.

"Cap'n asked yer t' stay on?" asked Grishnak behind her, causing her to almost jump out of her skin. He eyed her up when she nodded. "Jadar kiss yer yet?" She nodded again and he grinned, baring large, protruding lower canine teeth. "Gonner watch him try the Elf. Should be funny."

"I'm certain it will be funny, to everybody except Elanee. And maybe Jadar, after she's done with him," she said wryly. "I'm just going to check on Khelgar," she added, wondering if the Half-Orc wanted anything further with her. But he merely nodded, and let her pass down the corridor into the small, four-bunk cabin they had been assigned to.

"I feel like I haven't eaten in days," groaned Khelgar when she slipped into the room. His skin was pale, and the entire room reeked of sweating Dwarf. Still, he seemed to be improving; at least he hadn't thrown up in a few hours.

"That's because you _haven't_ eaten in days. Really Khelgar, if you'll just come up onto the deck and get a little fresh air..." The Dwarf's face began to turn green, so she left the sentence unfinished. "Anyway, I just came here to check that you were still alive, and to tell you that we should be in Neverwinter tomorrow."

"Fairer words have never left yer sweet lips, lass. I'd hug ye, but I don't think it's safe fer me to move yet."

"No, you stay right where you are and get some rest. I promise, the first thing we'll do when we touch dry land is find a tavern and a brawl," she said. He gave her a look of gratitude and she picked up her backpack from beside her own bunk, then left Khelgar to wallow in misery.

o - o - o - o - o

The shard of silver glinted in the sunlight, the reflection playing across Kail's face, temporarily dazzling her eyes. She held it gently in her hand, and concentrated on it. Immediately she began to feel her heart beating inside her chest... _there was a flash of blinding light, the sound of metal ringing against metal, sparks flying, and the sound of a baby's cry tore through the night..._ Blood pumping in her ears and breath coming quickly, she put the shard down onto the silk in which she kept it wrapped.

_It's just a piece of metal,_ she told herself. _Just metal. But gods... the power I can feel from it. It's... it's... I don't know. Power! Like magic, but different. Why does it make me feel so cold, so... targeted? The sooner I'm rid of this, the better._

She looked up as Elanee approached where she was sat at the forecastle. The Elf let herself sink into a sitting position, Kail's cloak still wrapped tightly around her, and subjected the shard to an intense gaze of scrutiny. It didn't matter. She had already decided to tell Elanee about the shard. For better or worse, Elanee was part of this now. By travelling with them, she had made herself a target for their attackers. And, since she didn't seem to be inclined to leave them any time soon, she needed to know the reason behind the attacks.

"It is something my foster father found in West Harbor, after the battle with the King of Shadows long ago. He and his half-brother, Duncan, each found and kept one. Daeghun believes that this... shard... is the reason that West Harbor was attacked by the Duergar and Bladelings. I'm taking it to Neverwinter, taking it to Duncan, so that he can have it examined by somebody with knowledge of such things," she explained.

"This is the reason why those following you have been attacking you?" Elanee asked after a moment. She nodded. "They must want it very much."

"Well, they razed West Harbor for it. At least, I hope they did, as strange as that may seem. If they didn't do it for this, they could have done it for anything, and this whole trip might be in vain. West Harbor might still be in danger. Still... I suppose it's all I have to go on, for now."

"If this is what your attackers are searching for, then I say we keep it from them," said the Elf, and her eyes were as hard as steel.

"Glad we agree," said Kail, wrapping the shard in the silk and placing it inside her pack to nestle between her spare change of clothes. _Yes. I will give the shard to Duncan, and then all of this will be over._


	10. The Sunken Flagon

_10. The Sunken Flagon_

"I'm afraid I couldn't talk your Elven friend into my ancient naval custom, so I'm going to have to use you twice," said Jadar as a pair of sailors behind him moved to push out the gangplank. Kail smiled, stood on her tiptoes, and extracted a lengthier kiss than the one he had first given her.

"I'm going to scour the city for attractive young Half-Orc women, you know," she teased, stepping back to catch her breath.

"I'm sure Grishnak will be eternally grateful to you." Amusement danced in his violet eyes. "But now your friends are giving you very disapproving glances. I think they wish to be off the Double Eagle and onto dry land." She turned to see the other three waiting impatiently by the gangplank, rolled her eyes at Jadar, then hurried to join her companions. They filed off the ship and dodged the horde of longshoremen approaching with carts and ropes. From the top of the ship, the crow flew towards them, alighting on Kail's arm when she held it out.

"Farewell, Sha'Gyrah," Jadar called, and she waved back to him from the ground.

"Sha-what?" Neeshka

"Sha'Gyrah. 'Friend of Birds'," said Elanee.

"So this is Neverwinter? S'pose it's passable... for a city built by Humans," said Khelgar, staring around at the buildings lining the docks. It was uncanny. As soon they had set foot on land, the Dwarf's colour had returned to his skin, his humour was back to normal, and he no longer looked like he desperately wanted to empty his stomach. "Can't say I care for it though. You want a proper city, you build down, not up."

"This place feels unnatural. The wood and stone... it's as if they've been silenced," added Elanee.

"I wish you'd _both_ be silent," Neeshka snapped. "The entire trip was just one line whine from the two of you." She lowered the pitch of her voice in a fairly decent mimicry of Khelgar, "Ohh, me stomach feels funny. This boat rocks like a baby's cradle." Then she changed pitch again, to a higher tone. "This water is so unnatural and deep, nothing like the swamp of dead people _I_ grew up in." Kail had to try very, very hard not to smirk at the Tiefling's impression of Elanee. "Not that I've got great memories of this place, but it's home. So, where are we going first?"

"My uncle's tavern should be close by. Let's head there right away. I think some of us need a stiff drink... or five," she said with a wink at Khelgar.

"Now ye're speaking my language, lass. I say lead the way. Besides, I'd welcome a stable bed after being trapped on that filthy excuse for a boat!" Kail nodded, removed the kerchief from her head, and fastened her cloak around her shoulders. Then she gave a last, wistful look to the Double Eagle, and led them away from the docks.

_Neverwinter, prepare to meet the Comrades Four. I just hope we'll_ _have enough gold..._

o - o - o - o - o

Bishop stared despondently into his ale. It was flat. It tasted like pisswater. It was only marginally better than the wine. But at least he had peace and quiet. Everybody in this tavern knew him by sight. Knew that this was his spot. Knew that he did not want to be disturbed. And those who didn't know it soon learnt. By his feet, Karnwyr whined. He reached down to run a reassuring hand over the wolf's head. They often picked up on each others' feelings, and right now what Karnwyr was picking up wasn't pretty.

Two weeks. For _two weeks_ he'd tracked the girl through the forest, guiding that _idiot_ Amnian man. The fool had neglected to mention that the girl had some muscle with her, and he had paid for that mistake with his life. Unfortunately, this meant Bishop hadn't been paid half of what he was owed. He had searched the man's corpse, but nothing. That was the last time he was taking only half-payment. From now on it was full payment up front, or no deal.

The door of the Flagon swung open, a thickly accented voice interrupting his thoughts. He lifted his head to glare at the speaker.

"...is just what I be needing after all that rocking on that boat. It's no dignified way to travel, that's fer sure." A Dwarf entered the common room, stroking the handle of an axe at his belt. His head was shaved, though he sported a typically Dwarven beard. The squat little man made a beeline for the bar. Hardly surprising. Dwarves could sense ale from miles away. They were probably born drinking it.

A taller figure entered behind the Dwarf. Interesting. He'd seen her around Neverwinter before, he was sure of it. Skulking around in the shadows... she was one of the city's more... successful... thieves. Everybody with a hand in the darker aspects of city life knew about her. Tieflings were rare, after all. She followed the Dwarf to the bar, her tail flicking cat-like as she walked. Every line of her body spoke of grace and suppleness, and she rolled her blood-red eyes at the short man's back.

When a third figure entered the tavern he felt a tiny sliver of shock shoot through his mind. The girl, shorter than the Tiefling, was nothing special to look at; somewhat dishevelled dark brown hair fell to just above her shoulders, framing her face. She was dressed casually in brown trousers and a white shirt beneath a grey cloak, and she carried a crow perched on her arm. Cool grey eyes swept the room once, paying him no more attention than the items of furniture, which rankled him slightly. But it wasn't the woman herself that was the cause of the slight shock, rather the scent she brought with her. The smell that Karnwyr's sensitive nose picked up, even though it was very, very faint; the scent of death, and of the Mere. He hadn't smelled the latter in a long, long time.

A fourth figure entered behind the girl, and he allowed a smile to curl his lips. This was more like it. The Wood Elf was short, slim, her skin the colour of honey, and hair a warm shade of brown. Her eyes, a shade or two darker than her skin, were wide, and held a hint of fear. She tried to hide it, but the way her head swivelled at small sounds, the way she kept wrinkling her nose, betrayed how she felt; overwhelmed. _Far away from home, little Elf? First time in a city? Well, there's a first time for everything._ A Dwarf, a Tiefling thief, a woman from the Mere, and a Wood Elf far from the woods. He was sure there was a joke in there somewhere, if only he could be bothered to find it. Instead, he watched the Elf take a seat on one of the chairs closest to the door. He might be able to have a little fun before his next job after all.

"What in the hells is that bird doing in here? This is a tavern, not a farm yard." Duncan's voice was indignant as he approached the girl.

"There is a wolf sleeping in front of your fireplace," she replied in a definite Mere accent, not taking her gaze off the innkeeper. So. She _had_ seen him, and Karnwyr.

"Hmph. Just don't let that bird make a mess," Duncan grumbled reluctantly.

"You must be Duncan Farlong," said the girl. She pointed her arm at a chair and the crow hopped onto the back of it.

"Well, that depends on who's asking. If you've come to collect a debt..." Bishop turned his attention back to the slim Elf as Duncan blathered on about nothing. That man could really talk crap when he wanted. Getting him to shut up was more trouble than it was worth.

"I'm your niece." His head snapped back to the girl. Her back was towards him, so he couldn't see her expression, but Duncan's face was blank. "Your half-niece," she elaborated. "By adoption." Duncan blinked. "Daeghun sent me."

"Kail! Why, I haven't seen you since you were a babe! Sit down, sit down, tell me how you are, how Daeghun is!" Duncan ushered the girl to a chair and called for Sal to bring her a drink. _Good thinking, Duncan. Poison your kin with this pathetic excuse for ale._

Duncan and the girl moved off to the far side of the room, out of his hearing range. But that wasn't a problem. He glanced down at Karnwyr, and the wolf sat up, pricking his ears towards the pair. Then Bishop leant back in his chair as he listened, and, for the moment, he forgot about the Elf.

o - o - o - o - o

Kail allowed Duncan to lead her to the side of the room, and sank gratefully into a chair that he indicated for her. Her three companions hovered around uncertainly, and when she nodded to them they all pulled up chairs at a distance discreet enough to give the illusion of privacy, yet close enough to hear any part of the conversation that she wanted them privy to. Sal, a sombre, harried-looking man, brought them a round of drinks, and Duncan sat opposite her as the tankards were set on the table.

She appraised her newfound 'Uncle' as he examined her; she could see a slight family resemblance to Daeghun, but the similarities between the two men weren't all that great. Typical of Half-Elves, his ears were shorter, and he was a lot taller than his Elven brother. His eyes, instead of being emerald-green like Daeghun's, were light brown, as was his hair.

"So the time's come, has it? Trouble chasing on your heels, and you barely know why?" Duncan asked. She nodded, taking a sip of ale. She desperately wanted to follow Khelgar's usual drinking pattern, and drown herself in the stuff, forget about all of her problems for a little longer... but that wouldn't make for a good impression with her uncle. "Suppose Daeghun told you less than half of what you need to know, then sent you packing. Ah, don't take it too hard. He's done it twice to me, in my life. And all for good reason. Now I can probably guess why you're here, but why don't you go ahead and tell me anyway."

"When he told me to come here, Daeghun was a little... vague." Duncan nodded at her description. "What do you know about the shards that you and he found?"

"'Trace of an enchantment on it' that eel Sand said. But nothing of importance. Probably residue from demon's fire or wizard's magic."

"Demon's fire? Sounds important to me," said Sal from behind the bar. She winced. Could the man have announced it any louder? They probably heard that back in Highcliff.

"And that, Sal, is why you're cleaning tables and I own this place." Duncan called back with a frown. Anyway," he said, turning back to her, "barely worth mentioning. Is that really why you came all this way? To hear about your mother?"

"My mother?" she asked in surprise. "What does she have to do with this?"

"What, Daeghun still keeping that inside? It's a wonder he doesn't crack down the middle."

"How are the shards and my mother related?" she reiterated, fixing Duncan with her most penetrating stare. Daeghun never talked about her mother. Lucas mentioned her, very rarely, but not in any great detail.

"I think you might've been better off being raised by wolves if Daeghun didn't tell you that. He'll tell you when he's ready, I think, but it's best you hear it from him. Let's stick to the shards for now." She stared at Duncan for another moment, but it was obvious he wasn't going to tell her anything about her mother. Instead, she reached down, opened her pack, and fished around for the silk.

"I brought the shard with me, and it definitely has some sort of magic," she said, unravelling the silk to expose the shining silver.

"You brought it here? Now why in the nine hells would you go digging up the past like that? Look - and listen - there's no good in picking up history's bones, especially where that warlock's concerned. I heard the tales, and Daeghun told me what happened at West Harbor that night."

"Who's this... Sand that you mentioned before?"

"A hedgewizard. Somehow set up shop in the docks. But it's telling enough he can only run a business down here in the crack of Neverwinter. Got a dry wit, and he'll always rub you the wrong way, so his name's well chosen. Still... I suppose I trust him enough, and having a wizard close by certainly tends to keep fools from causing too much trouble. Well, me and Daeghun took the shard to him when he was still in the Merchant quarter. Before his run of bad luck. But he couldn't get much from it. Just 'faint traces'".

"Well, it's got power now," she said thoughtfully. _Definitely_ had power now. "Maybe he can get another reading from it." Duncan fished in his pocket, and handed her a second silver shard.

"Here, I've always kept it close, for some reason. Didn't wanna leave it out of my sight. You take it, now. It finally feels right for me to let it go."

_But I don't want it!_ she thought, on the verge of screaming. _I just want to give this to somebody and then go home. I don't want to be followed, and hunted, and have to deal with wizards and demons. I can't deal with those sorts of things. I'm just me!_

That's what she wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come out. The second shard sang to her, its voice in harmony with the first, and as she reached out and touched it she felt the blood drain from her face, her heart beating faster within her chest. And even in the warmth of the tavern, her skin broke out into goosebumps as the sound of metal striking metal resounded in her ears, silenced by the wail of a baby's cry.

"Maybe with two of them, this Sand might be able to get a better reading," she said faintly.

"Well, it's worth a shot, but **don't** pay him any coin in advance, that's all I'd say. In fact, that viper would be best off..."

"Ah, it seems I have arrived just in time to deflect the usual barrage of slander from the local innkeeper," said a soft-spoken voice from the doorway.

"Sand." Duncan narrowed his eyes at somebody over her shoulder, and she turned in her seat to examine the hedgewizard for herself. The man entering the room was of average height, for an Elf, at least. He looked to be about the same height as Daeghun, but he was as physically different from her father as two men could get. Sand's dark brown hair fell straight to his upper back, with two narrow braids knotted behind his head. His skin was paler than both Daeghun and Elanee's, and his eyes were a very pale blue. He was the first Moon Elf she had seen. Duncan stood, stepping towards the wizard, and gesturing for her to follow.

"Yes. It is good to see you're still sober enough to recognise me, Duncan, past the..." Sand sniffed the air, "...stale beer, vinegar, faint sweat, failed aspirations... unwashed tunic. I had thought perhaps you'd already had one tankard too many for the day, but..." he stopped, and turned his piercing gaze to her. "Why, your guest here has the smell of a Harborman about her. Faint, but there." She gritted her teeth. "I thought Duncan was keeping company too good for him... now I see I was right. Duncan, you can learn a few things from your guest."

"Hmph. Still passing off those two-copper fairweather charms to the locals, Sand?" asked Duncan with a snort of disdain.

"You have no appreciation for my talents, and after all I've done for you. To think you could survive a fortnight without my ale purgative... why, you would be buried in the tombs with the rest of the Neverwinter traitors - a betrayer of barkeepers everywhere. But enough about you and your adventurous exploits on the tavern floor. I heard my name mentioned, and oddly enough almost in a tone that suggested I could help." Obviously choosing to let the insult pass, Duncan gestured to Kail.

"This here's kin..."

"I'm not really seeing the family resemblance," said the Elf, running his eyes over her.

"And we need your help concerning the shard - both of them."

"Shard? That chunk of silver you showed me so long ago? Hmm, I do hope you're not going to try to pawn it to me again. I'm no longer interested. Besides, as I recall, you said the piece of junk had 'sentimental value' which, upon viewing your establishment, is perfectly understandable. Anyway, didn't your uncle, or cousin, or brother, or whatever, make off with the other shard? I thought you only had one now," said Sand.

"It found its way back... so to speak. We need you to look at both of them again. _Properly_ this time," replied Duncan. The wizard sighed.

"Oh very well, give them here and let me see what my keen arcane senses can determine." She gave both of the shards to Sand, and he held them in his hands, closed his eyes, and began whispering words under his breath. She wished she could make them out.

As she watched the wizard she noticed a faint blue glow spring up around him, and the shards began to... vibrate. At the same time she felt her heart begin to flutter, as if there was a bird inside her ribcage trying to make a bid for freedom. She opened her mouth, about to tell Sand to stop, but she didn't get chance; a wave of energy burst out from the shards, knocking the three of them to the floor. Winded, she gasped for air as Sand helped her to her feet.

"Well, it seems to have some... resentment... to being scried. That is quite _different_ than last time. Are you _sure_ these are the same shards? The power in them... why, it's definitely stronger than last time. **Much** stronger," he said, handing them back to her.

"Oh, so now they're magical? Well I'm not paying you for _two_ failed divinations, you charlatan."

"It's not a matter of divination, you one-tankard drunk. There is something about these shards. Without knowing their history even _my_ considerable talents can not unlock their mysteries."

"Keep up this petty bickering," she said, raising an eyebrow in warning, "and I shall lose my temper."

"You're right," said Duncan guiltily. "Sorry I pointed out the fact you're a charlatan, Sand."

"And I didn't mean to bring up your excessive drinking, Duncan, and your long list of failed aspirations. It was uncalled for, especially when the mystery of these shards is before us." Sand turned to address Kail. "Taking them to any other wizard in town will be useless until we learn more about their past. You need a sage."

"How could you not sense the magic in these shards? I can tell just by holding them," she said.

"Because he's incompetent?" Duncan snorted.

"Duncan, the more I speak to your kin here, it's evident where the sense in the family went." And, to her, "Since you seem to have been given all the brains of the family, I'll be honest with you; I don't know. But I _do_ know that the shards did not have the same strength the first time I examined them. There could be something about you that causes them to resonate, but I have no idea why that would be."

_No,_ she thought. _It's not me. It's nothing to do with me. I just brought them here. They're just chunks of metal._ Perhaps if she wished hard enough, it would be true.

"Who would know about their history?" she asked him. _No, don't ask. Leave the shards here. Give them to Sand. Go back home. You can still catch the Double Eagle before she leaves the docks. Tell Flinn that you'll travel with him. Waterdeep is nice and far away, and maybe they'll go even further._ She desperately wanted to listen to the voice, and in the back of her mind, Georg chanted_ 'Keep moving. Keep your head down. Don't be a target.'_

But... if she ran now, she would be running forever. If there _was_ something about her, leaving the shards here would be no guarantee of her safety. And there was more. She knew it instinctively. Duncan had hinted at her mother's involvement. The shards had a secret history. It was a mystery, a puzzle... _a challenge._ She never backed down from a challenge, much to her father's despair. She realised, then, than running would be the easy way out. Though the ocean called to her, she knew she could not leave. _Somebody wants me dead. Somebody wants these shards. I won't give up. I won't run. I won't be beaten._

"Well, you could try to speak to Aldanon," said Sand thoughtfully. "But I don't think you'd have much luck reaching him. The Blacklake district is closed down. He's trapped there, you see. The Watch has it locked tight; no-one going in or out, no messages in or out, even for the nobles who live there. Quite cryptic, really."

"Great. I'll probably have to jump through a wall of fire to get in, right?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"I heard about that," said Duncan, choosing to ignore her sarcasm. "Lord Dalren was killed, wasn't he? I've heard rumours, but no official word of what happened."

"As have I," Sand replied. "Not only are the Watch not talking about it, but they even called in the Cloaktower mages to investigate, which means sorcery, or demons, were at work."

"I just want to get into Blacklake," she sighed. Murdered nobles were none of her business.

"Well, if you're not a member of the Watch, _or_ know a secret route into Blacklake, then you're out of luck. So, it seems like you have no choice but to let me examine the shards at my leisure. I'll need to hold onto them of course..."

"Wait. Watch or secret route? Not bad ideas. Either way, the coin lands. Hell, there's Marshal Cormick. He's currently at the city Watchpost, and I know he's in bad need of an extra sword-arm down at the docks," suggested Duncan.

"Cormick? From Fort Lock?"

"Yes, I heard he got back to Neverwinter recently. Surprised he even made it with the troubles I've heard around Fort Locke."

"Trust me, you don't know the half of it," Neeshka interrupted.

"Cormick's a Harborman too, and folks of the Harbor are as close to kin as you can get out of the Mere," said Duncan. "He might be able to take you into the Watch, and from there speaking to Aldanon shouldn't be too hard."

"Is there any other way?" Kail asked. Not that she wouldn't mind asking Cormick for help, but joining the City Watch was hardly the best way of keeping your head down. Plus she had no idea about the law in Neverwinter. How could she uphold something that she didn't know?

"Then you need to find another route into the Blacklake district, and that means dealing with other folks who try to control the Docks - Moire and her gang."

"Oh there's an idea, Duncan. They were probably behind the watch closing Blacklake in the first place," said Sand.

"And if I _had_ to find her... how?" she prompted.

"Well, she's got thugs all over the docks. But finding one who could get you to her...?" he hesitated.

"There's Caleb," Sand chimed in. "He used to try to get me to pay him gold for protection before I told him about the wards I'd inscribed on the building that caged the guardian elementals. Long story, but quick resolution."

"Caleb? Maybe, but I don't trust that harbour-rat to give you a fair deal. And the price will be steep, in bodies or coin. He doesn't like being the only one with blood on his hands," said Duncan.

"Doesn't sound like someone we should put our faith in," Khelgar observed.

"Obviously you've never dealt with the Watch in Neverwinter, Khelgar. Dealing with Caleb is probably our best chance," said Neeshka.

"Still, the chances are simply talking to Caleb will make you want to kill him, so it seems a clear win to me. If you _do_ speak to him though, be sure to do it downwind," said Sand with a sniff.

"So, joining the Watch, upholding the law, or descending into crime?" Kail asked rhetorically.

"That's pretty much how it stands," Duncan agreed. "You can find Cormick in the Watchpost, near the Dolphin Bridge that leads to the Merchant quarter. He needs help, so it shouldn't be much of a tough sell to join up."

"Caleb should lounging around the corner east along the main road. Just follow the smell. If you want to join with him he'll probably ask you to hurt or kill someone, so be warned," added Sand. "Well, you can certainly find your way into trouble from here. Me, I will head back to my lonely merchant existence. Should you need my expertise, simply ask. But just in case, bring a great deal of gold as well." Kail eyed the wizard's departing back, and decided that she liked him. With his shrewd manner and sarcastic quips, he reminded her a little of Lucas.

"Well, there you have it," said Duncan. "You're welcome to stay here for as long as you like, and your friends too. I'll see to rooms for you all, and if they want to stay here while you're off on your own business, that's fine with me too." She thanked him, and returned to her seat as the others crowded around her.

"Well that was certainly... interesting," said Elanee.

"I agree. Have ye seen the size of the kegs in this place?" Khelgar asked in awe.

"I was referring to the shards. They way they resonated with energy when the wizard tried to scry them," the Elf elaborated.

"Forget about the shards," said Neeshka. "What are we going to do about Blacklake? Trust me, dealing with the Watch here is a _really_ bad idea. Half of them are more corrupt than the thieves!"

"Bah! You only say that because you don't want to lose your street cred!" said Khelgar.

"You're damn right I don't. But it's also the truth. It's just the way cities work. The higher up you go, the more corruption you find," Neeshka explained. Elanee sighed, and Kail knew how she felt.

"I don't know what we're going to do," she said at last. "But right now, I think we should all acquaint ourselves with the three B's."

"Aye? And what're those, lass?" She gave the Dwarf a meaningful smile.

"Beer, baths, and beds. In that order."


	11. Exchanges

_11. Exchanges_

Kail towelled off the moisture from her dripping wet hair, then gave a deep, contented sigh. She had begged first use of the bath, and finally felt clean. Her skin had been scrubbed until it was pink, the dust of travel scoured from her body with a generous amount of soap. Now the first person to say that she smelt of swamps would find themselves doubled over in agony and struggling to draw breath. Dropping her towel on her bed for the moment, she stepped in front of the circular mirror fixed to the wall by the door.

Her own grey-blue eyes appraised her appearance frankly. Her skin, though sun-touched, was quite light in tone, and her hair, almost black while damp, was dishevelled after the towelling. She was dressed in her clean white shirt and plain brown trousers, and completely devoid of jewelry. Her only ornamentations were her bracers and her belt; the grey cloak she left on the cloak-stand. The overall effect was that of a plain young woman in plain clothes staring at her plain reflection. Good. She couldn't afford to stand out, not when there was a chance that her attackers might be lurking nearby, waiting for her to slip up.

She ran her fingers through her hair, bringing a little order to the chaos, then put on her boots, whistled for the crow, and left her new bedroom. The corridor felt oddly chilly, and she hurried down it, into the common room. She found her friends where she had left them, the only difference was that Khelgar seemed to have collected a large number of empty tankards. At least, she _hoped_ he had collected them.

"All I'm saying is we'd better hold onto it in case we really need it," Khelgar was saying to the women as she approached.

"We can always get more. It's not like it's hard to come by," Neeshka said, grinning at the disgusted look that passed the Dwarf's face. "What do you think, Kail?"

"About what?" she asked, dropping into her original chair.

"Khelgar thinks we should save the gold we collected on our way here for 'a rainy day'. **I** think we should spend it on some new gear. Clothes, weapons, armour. I mean, it's not like he isn't spending it already with his obsessive drinking. At the rate he's going your uncle's going to run out of alcohol before tomorrow."

"Bah. Ye've no appreciation for the finer things in life, Tiefling."

"I appreciate the finer things alright, moss-breath. They just don't include drinking myself into a stupor."

"Split the gold four ways," said Kail, halting the argument. "That way everybody has their fair share, and can spend or save as they like."

"I do not want gold," said Elanee. "As long as your uncle provides shelter and food, I have all that I need."

"Are you sure, Elanee?" she replied. "You could buy yourself... something nice," she trailed off with a dismissive wave of the hand. She had no idea what the Elf considered 'nice'. Elanee merely shook her head.

"Why can't you be more like her, stumpy?" Neeshka grinned at Khelgar.

"And let you have a bigger share of the gold? No chance, thief. But what about you, lass? Got anything nice in mind? Some new clothes, maybe?"

"What's wrong with my clothes?" Kail asked, raising an eyebrow at the Dwarf.

"Well, they're a bit... well... plain. And that's fine for farmers and whatnot, but yer a bard, lass! Ye need something flashier!"

"Oh gods, I can't believe I'm being given fashion advice by a Dwarf," she groaned.

"Moss-breath is right," Neeshka piped up. "I'm going to buy you at least _one_ set of decent clothes, even if it's out of my own share of the money."

"Did I hear something about a bard?" asked Duncan from the bar. Kail inwardly groaned again.

"Who's next in the bath?" she asked quickly to stall the inevitable request for a song.

"I'll go," said Elanee, jumping up from the table and practically running from the room.

"What's wrong with her?" she asked the other two. Neeshka shrugged dismissively, then rooted through her pack for one of her loot bags, upended the contents onto the table, and began sorting through a pile of jewelry.

"She said she felt like she was being watched," said Khelgar.

"I know how she feels," Kail said dryly. At least that feeling was gone, now. And perhaps Elanee deserved to feel a little watched, after she herself had been watching Kail.

"I'm going to get me another drink. Ye want anything lass?"

"I won't say no to a glass of whatever you're drinking," she said, and watched the Dwarf potter only a little unsteadily to the bar. As she turned her head, a glint of light reflecting off metal caught her eye, and she gasped in surprise. Above the mantle of the fireplace, two short swords were crossed over each other, fixed to the wall. She hurried to them, running her eyes over them.

The sword on the right was an extremely ornate weapon; but nothing more. The sword on the left, however... she recognised the markings on the hilt, the cut of the blade... it was a Sword of Quickness! Lucas had one _exactly_ like it, and she had never thought to see another elsewhere. They were quite rare, and she wondered if her uncle even knew what he had. Carefully, she stood on her tiptoes and ran her finger over the point of the weapon.

"Aren't you a little tall, for a Halfling?" said a sneering voice from a nearby chair_. Ah, a joke about my height. How terribly original_. Poised on her toes, she tilted her head to examine the speaker. The man, lounging back seemingly at his ease, was dressed in dark brown leathers and held a tankard of ale in his hands. By his side, propped up against the mantle, was a longbow and a quiver of arrows. With his cocky, defiant attitude, he could easily have passed for an older, slightly less shaven Mossfeld brother. A tiny voice at the back of her mind flagged something up for her to pay attention to; most people would have missed it, but she had been trained by Lucas to notice subtle tone and inflection, and she realised that the man in the chair spoke with an extremely faint, barely noticeable, Mere lilt to his accent. She resisted the urge to sneer back, and merely raised an eyebrow at him.

"Aren't you a little articulate, for a Half-Orc?" she asked, dropping back to her feet. The man gave her a feral grin and lifted his tankard to her.

"Stick around. A few more drinks and you'll start looking good to me," he said.

"There's an incentive to leave, if ever I heard one," she replied, and stalked back to her companions, tiny flames of anger licking at her mind. But they were flames of anger at herself, more than anything. _Stupid girl, don't antagonise people here. Don't you remember what Georg told you? You're not in some tiny village any longer. People aren't going to be impressed if you twirl your daggers, they're just going to laugh and maybe even try to teach you a lesson. Keep your head down!_

o - o - o - o - o

_A flash of light came from the centre of the village. Amie's head swivelled toward it and she set off at a flat-out run._

_"No, Amie! Don't go there, Amie!" she called after her friend. The young woman ran on, and Kail followed her. A raucous cry came from overhead, and she looked up to see a crow flying above. As she watched the animal it alighted on a hanging sign of a building, and picked out in dark letters were the words; Sunken Flagon._

_Amie opened the door of the tavern, her blonde head disappearing inside the building. Kail followed her. Amie stood in front of a roaring fire in the common room, looking into the flames. She felt her heart lurch._

_"Amie, no! Come away from there!" she said. The young woman looked up and smiled. _

_"It's alright, Kail. Everything will be alright. You'll see. Just trust me."_

_A figure appeared out of thin air, looming menacingly behind Amie. She tried to call out, to warn her friend, but the words would not come. The figure grinned at the young woman, its grey-green skin pulled taught, a predatory gleam in its black eyes. The flames in the fireplace jumped out, and Amie screamed as the fire consumed her. When the flames disappeared, all that was left was a pile of ash._

_"Amie!"_

Kail's eyes flew open and she scrambled out of bed. Air! She needed air! She tripped over her bag as she made her way to the window in the dark, but eventually managed to find the catch. Cold air rushed into the room as she leant against the sill, and slowly her mind began to clear, the queasiness in her stomach growing still.

Oh gods, why did she have to dream about that now? Maybe her mind had been occupied with staying alive up to now. With worrying about avoiding the Duergar and Bladelings, maybe she just hadn't been able to think about anything else. But here, during her first night of real safety, she'd had a nightmare. _Or maybe it's Amie trying to tell me something. Trying to tell me that it's time to say goodbye..._

She glanced at her bag. Yes, it was time. Stepping lightly to the bed, she pulled on her clothes, fastening her belt and her bracers over the top of her shirt. It was still dark outside, but she knew that morning was approaching. The air smelled different as the sun began to rise. It was easier to detect in the Mere or the forests, of course, but she could sense it even in the unfamiliar city. It would be light in a couple of hours, and she would have no more sleep today.

The crow was perched on the coat stand in the corner of the room, and she left it sleeping as she tiptoed to the door, a pouch in her hand. She quietly opened the door, slipped out, then closed it behind her. She winced every time she stepped on a floorboard that creaked, and hoped she wasn't waking the other patrons. Neeshka and Khelgar had the rooms to either side of hers, and Elanee was a little further down the corridor. The women might wake if they heard the creaking, but Khelgar could sleep through anything.

The common room was almost completely dark when she entered, only the dying flames of the fire creating a small source of light. She could vaguely make out the shape of chairs stacked upside down on tables, and the blocky form of the bar where Sal had been serving drinks only a few hours earlier. The floorboards were cold beneath her feet, and she ruefully regretted not putting on her boots. She wasted no time in making her way to the fire, then took the poker from the wall and stoked the coals, encouraging the flames to burn a little stronger.

Satisfied at last, she returned the poker to its stand and knelt in front of the fire. This was where Amie had been in the nightmare. This was where her friend had said goodbye. It was time for goodbye. She gently opened up the pouch that she carried, and upended the contents onto her open palm; a lock of fine blonde hair fell out. _It was time_.

She placed the lock onto the fire, and, as the hair sizzled, consumed by the flames, she bowed her head and quietly prayed for her friend.

"Do not stand at my grave and weep

"I am not there, I do not sleep.

"I am a thousand winds that blow,

"I am the diamond glints on snow,

"I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

"I am the gentle autumn rain.

"When you wake from sleep in the morning's hush,

"I am the swift, uplifting rush

"Of quiet birds in circling flight.

"I am the soft starlight at night.

"Do not stand at my grave and cry,

"I am not there, I did not die."

_Goodbye, Amie._

She sat with her head bowed, remembering her friend's laughing face, the way they made mischief as children, how they would listen, wide-eyed with awe, as Tarmas taught them cantrips. She realised that she wasn't crying, and for that she was thankful; if the tears came now, she doubted they would ever stop.

Warm air touched the back of her neck and she froze, every muscle rigid. Something sniffed her shoulders, her neck, her hair. Then she whimpered with fright, her eyes screwed shut and her body tense, as a warm tongue licked her ear. The something behind her moved to her left side, and she sensed silent movement. Very, very slowly, she raised her head and let her eyelids open, and looked into yellow-gold eyes ringed with tawny fur.

_Oh crap._ Wolves were like lizardmen. You didn't look into their eyes. It was a challenge. _Look away look away look away_, she told herself, but couldn't. She had never seen a living wolf up close before -- they weren't all that common in the damp Mere -- and this one was sitting so still before her that she couldn't even think of moving.

"You're lucky," said a voice from the chair by the fire. She almost jumped out of her skin. There hadn't been anybody sat there when she knelt down, she was sure of it. She recognised the voice as belonging to the man who had insulted her earlier. Licking her lips, she worked moisture back into her dry mouth, but could not take her eyes from the wolf's.

"Lucky?"

"He's decided that he likes you." She nodded imperceptibly.

"And if he had decided that he didn't like me...?" she let the question trail off, and the momentary silence was marked only by the crackling of the dying embers of the fire.

"He would've ripped your throat out." She merely nodded again. "You should stop staring at him now."

She managed to tear her eyes away from the wolf, transferring her gaze to the man by the fire. But his eyes glittered gold in the firelight, too. _Damn, no better!_ she thought.

"Why don't you do something amusing," said the man, leaning back and stretching his legs out before him. "Since you walked in here I haven't seen you play a single tune, sing any songs, dance any dances or tell any jokes."

"I'm not that kind of bard," she said. He snorted in amusement.

"A bard who doesn't sing, dance or play? Sounds pretty useless to me. What _do_ you do, then?"

She couldn't help it. The man's cocky, arrogant tone grated on her nerves. She was willing to bet that he wanted to see her upset. Well, she wouldn't give him that satisfaction. Her fingers moved by instinct, and as she lifted her right hand she twirled a small throwing knife over her knuckles, as she had for Vallis in Fort Locke. She felt his eyes follow the movement of the knife across her fingers, and his voice, when he spoke, was amused.

"So you _do_ have claws, little wildcat. And here I thought you were defenceless." A pang of fear gripped her heart. Surely that wasn't the reason he was out here? He couldn't be planning to hurt her. Not here. She was supposed to be safe. She schooled her face to stillness. She would not show him that she was afraid. She had carved her way to Neverwinter through countless hordes of Duergar, Bladelings, bandits and undead. She would _not_ be frightened by one man. _One man and his pet wolf_. But he seemed not to notice her fear, and sniffed the air, gesturing at the fire with a casual wave of his hand. "What's this? Burning the evidence from your last victim?"

A small wave of fury washed over her. _This was supposed to be a private moment. A goodbye for Amie. And this stupid, idiot man has ruined it._ She let the anger melt away, concentrated on the blade flowing around her fingers. It wouldn't do to get angry. If she got angry, she might do something that she would later regret. The tavern was probably quite flammable, after all.

"Will he let me touch him?" she asked instead. The man blinked in surprise at her question. "The wolf," she elaborated.

"And why would you want to do that?" he asked, a hint of a challenge in his gaze. She shrugged and returned the knife to its home in her leather bracer.

"I've never touched a wolf before," she said. The simple truth. The man's golden eyes searched her face for a moment, but what he was looking for she couldn't even begin to guess.

"And most people wouldn't want to, unless it was dead, skinned, and covering an item of furniture."

"I'm not most people."

"Well you could _try_, I suppose. See what happens. I always enjoy seeing his reaction. The last person who tried is, to this day, missing two fingers," said the man casually. He crossed his arms behind his head and watched her.

She ignored him, and turned her attention to the wolf. It was watching her intently, and she had the distinct impression that it understood every word that had been said. She studied it for a moment in the firelight; it had typical wolf-like agouti markings, peppered with bands of grey. Small, triangular ears stood up alertly, and even while sitting the creature's body spoke of great endurance. _Don't touch the wolf. You're only doing it to prove to the pig-headed swine that you're not afraid. You don't have anything to prove._ Don't I?

She lifted her hand, let the wolf sniff her skin. _Can't twirl a knife if you've no fingers, Kail. Lucas will be so disappointed._ When the wolf had finished sniffing she leant forward slightly, and ran her fingers over its fur. It was surprisingly coarse! Not much like a dog's fur; it was thick, double layered, with guard-hairs designed to keep out the cold. Beneath the fur she felt the toned, sinuous muscles of the animal's shoulder, and she stroked from its neck down its back, feeling the warmth and the strength in its body. The wolf opened its jaws, let its tongue loll out, and panted; the canine equivalent of a laugh, she knew.

"You have better manners than your friend," she smiled at the animal. "And probably not as many fleas." The man in the chair snorted.

"You're one to talk. Carrying around that flea-farm of a bird the way you do."

"Do you have a name?" she asked, running her hands behind the wolf's head to scratch his ears. "Or should I keep thinking of you as "dumb animal?"

"His name is Karnwyr." She turned her head slightly and raised an eyebrow at the man.

"I wasn't talking to him."

"Ouch. Your mind is as sharp as your claws, little wildcat. Not bad -- for a Harborman. With a bath, a hairbrush and a pair of boots you could almost pass for civilised."

"Something you can only aspire to, I'm sure." _Oh Gods, don't get into a slanging match with the fool. You're supposed to be above that! You've spent too much time around Neeshka and Khelgar._ _Walk away. He's goading you. Don't try to win this fight, or you'll be sat here until dinner time trading insults. The only way to win is to walk away. That's an order!_

She let his next words wash over her mind as she hummed one of the tunes that Lucas had taught her. A marching tune that anybody, travelling merchant or army, could mark time to. Then she gave the wolf's fur one last ruffle, jumped to her feet, and tiptoed across the cold floorboards to the door.

"See you around, Karnwyr," she said with a wave for the wolf. As she turned to walk down the corridor, she heard a low chuckle from the room behind her, and she shivered in the cool morning air.

o - o - o - o - o

"Hmph. Remind me again why we're going to see this Caleb," said Khelgar, bristling with indignation as they walked down the main road. It was early morning, only just past breakfast time, and the Comrades Four were all eager to throw themselves into exploring the city. That is to say, Neeshka was eager to pick out some new marks, and everybody else was going along with Kail's personal quest to gain entry into Blacklake.

"Because if Sand is right, and Caleb smells bad enough, maybe nobody will notice the smell of the swamp on _me_ if I stand near him," said Kail. "Maybe we can start a new and exclusive club of people who have interesting odours." Khelgar had the decency to look chagrined. "Besides, I'm not agreeing to anything yet. I just want to talk to him, see if he can give me a time frame."

"The sooner we are out of this city the better, as far as I am concerned," said Elanee quietly.

"Hey, you can leave at any time, you know. It's not like we tied you up and brought you here," said Neeshka. Elanee said nothing, but Kail could tell that she was biting her tongue. And the Elf wasn't the only one. There had been no sign of Karnwyr or his companion when Kail had returned to the common room later, and when she had absently asked her uncle, over breakfast, who the grouch with the wolf was, he gave a vague wave of his hand and said 'Just a regular. Ignore him'. Duncan, it seemed, kept a whole store of secrets. She had pressed him again on the subject of her mother, but he remained as tight-lipped as the previous day. Nor would he tell her anything of his adventuring days when she had asked him about the memorabilia adorning the walls. _And people think __**Daeghun**__ is cagey,_ she thought as Neeshka led them into a cul-de-sac. _Must run in the family. By blood, at least. __**I'm**__ certainly not like that._

"Well, that's Caleb," said Neeshka, halting by the corner of a wall and indicating one of the three men stood talking a little further away.

"Know anything about him?"

"Apart from the fact that he works for Moire, no," the Tiefling admitted. "I never really worked the Docks myself. Marks aren't wealthy enough, and it's too much trouble avoiding Moire's goons. She wants to control all the crime in this district, so she bribes or kills Watchmen, and forces every thief to work for her or die. Not that I couldn't avoid them if I _really_ wanted to, but it's just easier to work the Merchant quarter or Blacklake."

"Ah. Right. Well, you all wait here. I'll be back in a moment." She stepped away from her companions before they could object, and walked calmly to the three men. Though her heart was beating rapidly, she concentrated on making this a show. An act. Lucas said everything that happened to you could be use to improve your skills; from cooking breakfast to dodging arrows. Everything was a lesson. Everything was practise. So now, she practised. She was important. She was efficient. She was highly skilled. Her mere _presence_ made life seem a little easier.

"Caleb?"

"Shove off, wench. This is a private discussion, and I'm not looking for bed-warmer today." She turned on her heels and returned to her friends, walking past them onto the main road.

"So? How'd it go?" asked Khelgar as the three hurried to catch up to her.

"The wizard was right," she said grimly. "Merely speaking to him makes me want to kill him. Let's go and look up my old friend Cormick."

o - o - o - o - o

"Well well, look who the wind has blown into Neverwinter," said Cormick as they walked into the tall building that was the Dock's Watchpost. "Good to see you looking well after your harrowing trip through the Mere. A journey like that can change people, and not always for the better."

"It's good to see you again too, Marshal," she replied, ignoring the curious look from the other fair-haired man in the room.

"Now as I recall, I offered you a reward for all the hard work you put into helping Commander Tann at Fort Locke. I've already cleared it with my superior, Captain Brelaina, and she agrees that you deserve it." Cormick unlocked a safe stood in one corner of the room, took out a bag of coins, and handed it to her. Neeshka made a quiet sound of approval.

"Thank you, Marshal," she said promptly. "Actually, I was wondering if you might be able to help us. Me. You see, I need to speak to Aldanon..."

"Ah, I'm afraid Blacklake District is locked down for the moment. Nobody except Watchmen or Cloaktower mages can get in or out, and Captain Brelaina has to personally approve each one of them," he explained, gesturing for her to sit in a chair by his desk.

"Would it help if I worked for the Watch?" she asked, and heard Neeshka groan in defeat behind her. The Marshal eyed her thoughtfully, and she did her best to appear to be sitting calmly and confidently.

"Ordinarily, we wouldn't just take in anybody who asked for it without at least a little training behind them, especially not with the problems we're having right now... but if I know your father, he's done his best to toughen you up, and after everything you did for Fort Locke, I know you're more than capable."

"Hagen, Sir?" suggested the other man. Marshal nodded thoughtfully.

"Yes. Tell you what, Kail, I'll give you an assignment -- just think of it as a trial-run -- and if you manage without any problems, we'll take you on. How does that sound?"

"Perfect," she said, treating him to a smile. He reached into the drawer of his desk and brought out a pile of material; four blue cloaks with white stars on them.

"You'll need to wear these," said Cormick, handing her the cloaks.

"I am _not_ wearing a Watch cloak," said Neeshka defiantly. "It's just too much."

"She has a very refined sense of fashion," Kail explained to the Marshal. "Would it be alright if she didn't wear the cloak? Really, I think it will do more harm than good to make her wear it."

"I have no desire to shroud myself in the trappings of civilisation," said Elanee coolly. Cormick eyed both of the other women, then sighed.

"Very well. I'll make it known that our newest recruit has a couple of... mercenaries... with her," he said, his mouth quirking in amusement.

"What's the assignment?" she asked as she and Khelgar donned their new Watch attire.

"There is a merchant named Hagen who owns a shop on the dockfront, and he has decided to stand up to Moire and her thugs," explained the other man. Cormick introduced him as Lieutenant Roe. "He has refused to pay protection money, but we feel certain that Moire is going to send somebody to 'teach him a lesson', as it were," Roe continued.

"Go to Hagen's shop, protect him from whoever Moire sends, and make sure his shop is safe before returning," said Cormick, standing. She stood as well, giving him a mock salute. Lieutenant Roe tutted and shook his head, but he was smiling as he did so.


	12. Let Slip the Hounds of the Dock War

_12. Let Slip the Hounds of the Dock War_

Kail examined her companions as they waited for company. Khelgar was rocking back onto his heels and forward onto his toes, sticking close to Hagen. The old merchant seemed remarkably calm, given the circumstances. Elanee was stood beside the shop's counter, her hands clasped before her, eyes closed, and Kail wondered if she was praying, or merely thinking. Neeshka, in a desperate attempt to distance herself from the cloak-wearing members of the Watch, was leaning against a wall, fiddling with her bowstring. She herself was lounging over the counter, her elbows resting on the top as she used one of her knives to clean her fingernails.

_Look at us. We're the epitome of professional decorum_, she thought wryly. Hagen had given both her and Neeshka disapproving glances, but she didn't care. She wouldn't tell her companions to stand to attention like green militia volunteers, and they would probably tell her where to shove her opinion if she suggested it. _Gods, this is boring..._

As if on cue, the shop door opened and four men sauntered into the building. Call it instinct, but she didn't think they were interested in buying furniture. Each had a motley assortment of interesting scars and tattoes, and she doubted that any of them had seen a bath in weeks. She had never seen a goon before, but these four seemed to fit the description nicely.

"Time to pay up, Hagen," one of the goons rasped.

"I'm not paying you a single coin," said the old man, raising his chin in defiance.

"Wrong answer, old man. Caleb has decided he's fed up with you, so now we get to teach you a lesson." The goons' hands went to their weapons, but Kail took a deep breath, drawing their attention.

"Leave now and I'll forget your faces, which is no mean feat I can assure you. Stay and I will be forced to arrest you. That's the official warning, I think. Now, I'm quite new to this, but I'm relatively sure that if you pull weapons on a member of the Watch or a tax-paying citizen of Neverwinter, I'm allowed to kill you. You pay your taxes, right Hagen?"

"You're damn right I do!"

"And you, gentlemen? Do you pay _your_ taxes?"

"City Watch is getting a little..." he sneered down at Khelgar, "...big... for its boots." The Dwarf growled a curse in Dwarvish, and stroked the handle of his axe. "Time to teach the hounds who gives the orders around here."

"That would be me," she smiled as the goon drew his weapon. She threw two of her knives at him, and they hit him squarely in the chest. The other three thugs jumped into the fray a split second later. One found himself run-through the stomach on Elanee's scimitar. Kail was impressed. The druid had pretty fast reflexes. A third goon took a couple of arrows from Neeshka, crumpling to the floor with a scream of agony, and Khelgar personally introduced the last antagonist to his fiery mace.

"Tsk, look at that. I've got blood on my new Watch cloak," sighed Kail, gesturing at spots of blood marring the blue material.

"Err, I thank you for your assistance. I doubt Caleb will be sending anybody else around after this. Mm, maybe I should pile the bodies up outside my door, as a warning to others. Do you think?" asked Hagen.

"Splendid idea. And no need for thanks. The Watch is here to serve," she said, bowing with a flourish of her cape. "Ready to go?" she asked the others. Khelgar and Elanee nodded, and Neeshka stood up from her examination of the thugs' pockets.

"All done," she grinned.

o - o - o - o - o

"Caleb. Mean anything to you?" she asked, dropping into the chair opposite Cormick. He looked up from a pile of paperwork, and Lieutenant Roe gave her an amused quirk of his eyebrows - probably at the impropriety way in which she sat without being given permission or saluting first. She didn't care. She was here to get into Blacklake. She would do the tasks assigned to her, and she would do them well, and promptly, and without complaint. But she wouldn't fawn.

"We've been looking to bring in Caleb for a long time," said Roe. "We suspect him of being Moire's man in the south docks, and..."

"I'm on it," she said, jumping from the chair. _So. I'm a wench am I, Caleb? We'll see about that._

"Wait, you need to know what kind of a man he...!" shouted Roe.

"Already met him!" she called over her shoulder as she herded her companions out of the room.

"See what I told you about this one, Roe? Full of enthusiasm," she heard Cormick say as the door swung shut.

"I hope ye'll let us come with you this time, lass," said Khelgar.

"I wouldn't dream of keeping you out of this, Khelgar," she smiled.

"I believe you are enjoying this killing far too much," Elanee observed as they returned to Caleb's alleyway. Khelgar grunted and rolled his eyes. Thinking over Elanee's words, she realised that the Elf was right. The way in which she had become accustomed, desensitized, to killing Humans, was a little frightening. Before the attack on West Harbor, she had never killed a humanoid before. Since then she had fought lizardmen, Duergar, Bladelings, the undead, and Humans. Now she was killing without even a second thought or a flicker of remorse, merely because people were in her way. It made her wonder what else she was capable of. If pushed, was there anything she wouldn't resort to to get her own way? And what gave her the right to kill out of convenience?

"Look at this, the wench is back."

_Oh yes. Now I remember._

"Caleb, you're under arrest," she said aloud. Khelgar stepped slightly in front of her. He was determined to get in the first blow this time. Neeshka had taken to the shadows, more likely out of fear for her reputation than in self-defence. Elanee and Naloch waited at the entrance to the alley, cutting off the thieves' escape route.

"Oh, and what imaginary deeds would I be under arrest for?" he asked with a sneer.

"Extortion, blackmail and loitering with intent." They sounded suitably official. Behind her she heard Elanee chanting quietly, but did not give the druid much thought.

"Hah! Cormick's got nothing on me, and he knows it. And as for you... you're supposed to ask whether I want to do this the hard way, or the harder way."

"I am?" she asked. "Well, I _am_ new to the job. Which way _would_ you like to do this?"

"The harder way," he said, drawing his weapon from its sheath. The two men with him did the same, and they all took a step forward as Khelgar grabbed his mace and shouted a Dwarven curse.

The world exploded in sheets of bright, searing light, and bolts shot up from the ground and down from the sky, zipping through the air and tearing through the bodies of the thugs. Kail's stomach lurched. No matter how familiar she became with the sight of blood, she doubted she would ever be comfortable with the smell of burning Human flesh. It made her feel sick.

"Damn it, Elf, ye did that just to spite me!" said Khelgar, rounding on Elanee once the lightning had stopped. Naloch chittered angrily at him.

"I thought that a quick decisive action would be better than a long drawn-out fight, in this instance," she said calmly, though her eyes shone with amusement.

"Well next time, can you do it without torching them to a crisp? They could've been carrying valuables!" Neeshka wailed.

"Don't worry, Khelgar. There'll be plenty of chances to fight and brawl. Besides, Elanee's right. If we have to punch our way into Blacklake, it could take forever. The quickest way is the best way for as long as we're being hunted."

"Hmph. Maybe," he replied, placated a little. "But if you ask me, we haven't seen the last of those Duergar and Bladelings, either. You mark my words. Sooner or later, they'll find us."

"I hope so," she said, giving the Dwarf a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Because when they do, they'll find us waiting."

o - o - o - o - o

"Caleb resisted arrest. Quite violently, actually. If you like, you can send somebody to arrest his remains," said Kail, dropping into the chair that was fast becoming familiar.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," said Cormick dryly. "Still, if he really **is** out of the picture, that should cripple Moire's activities in the southern docks area."

"Marshal, our patrols have just returned from their sweep of the docks," said Lieutenant Roe, entering the room from the far door. "Some report that it's a war zone out there, but others claim to have found nothing but law-abiding citizens." Cormick sighed, dropping his quill onto the desk in defeat.

"Then it's as we feared. The corruption within the Watch runs deep. How would you like a more... challenging assignment, Kail?" he asked. She shot her companions a questioning glance, and they all nodded.

"Sure. What do you need us to do?"

"While you were dealing with Caleb, our patrols were finishing up a sweep of the Docks. They were supposed to report back on the situation with Moire's gang, but, as you just heard, many are denying there is even a problem. I've suspected for a long time that the corruption is more wide-spread than my superiors believe, but we just haven't had any proof. I want you to visit each of the four guardposts and check what's _really_ going on."

"Sir, Captain Brelaina has specifically ordered me not to do anything about the turncoats until she feels we are ready," said Roe. "However, if you wish to send your newest recruit to tackle the matter, I will defer to your judgement."

"For now, just gauge their loyalty as best you can," Cormick told her. "Since you are a new face, they might say things to you that they wouldn't to a recognised Watchman." She nodded, and trekked back to the door behind her friends.

"I just hope this Aldanon fellow is worth all this trouble," Khelgar grunted.

"You know, it would be so much easier for me to find us a nice, unguarded section of wall to climb over," said Neeshka.

"Like hells you're getting me to climb a wall. I've seen them, and they're huge! Dwarves weren't built fer climbing, they were built fer tunnelling! If you want to get past a wall, you go under it, not over it."

"We'll keep both of them in mind," offered Kail. Really, their arguing _was_ getting tiresome. If one of them claimed that the sky was blue, the other would vehemently deny it, just to spite the other. "But for now, show me the way to the first guardpost."

o - o - o - o - o

"I really do think that was quite uncalled for," said Kail as she retrieved her knives from the chest of the Watch Sergeant. _I hate this part with a passion,_ she thought. _I always wondered why so many heroes in stories had thrown weapons that automatically returned to their hands. Now I know why. Maybe I could get some magical returning darts or something. Wonder if they can also clean themselves off. Yeah, as if they wouldn't cost an absolute fortune. Hmm... maybe I can hire somebody to do this for me. A kid or something. Or maybe I could train Duncan's 'regular' tavern patron. 'Hey, wolf-guy. Fetch!' Ha!_ She grinned at the thought.

"Well you shouldn't have threatened to turn them in for taking bribes," Neeshka admonished, interrupting her thoughts.

"I was just trying to get in-character," she replied, and the Tiefling rolled her eyes. "Lucas says, 'To understand a thing...'"

"...you must become a thing," all three of them finished in unison.

"Oh. I mentioned that before?"

"Once or twice, lass," said Khelgar.

"Anyway, how could I have known that he would react with such hostility? The other Watchmen were quite amenable," she said.

"It has been my observation that Humans who live in cities are often willing to betray their own principles and their fellows for personal gain," said Elanee.

"What, you've been in a city for almost a day and you're already an expert on the people who live in them?" scoffed Neeshka. "Besides, it's not like that. People here do what they need to do to survive. The thieves live outside the law because it's let them down too much in the past. Laws favour those in power, which usually means the rich and the nobles. Nobody wants to go out of their way to protect the little people, so we have to take care of ourselves."

"I don't have a problem with people with people helping themselves," said Kail, furrowing her brows in thought. "But if they want to be thieves, they should take off the Watch uniform and join the thieves. All this duplicity, this deception, it's... annoying me."

"You can't really blame them, though. After the city was almost destroyed in the war with Luskan, most of the funds had to be transferred into rebuilding. Coin was transferred from everywhere - taxes, merchant fees, city service salaries. When it comes down to it, having a roof over your head is the most important thing, right next to having food on your table..."

"And ale in yer belly!" added Khelgar.

"But now that most of the rebuilding has been finished, the Watchmen are beginning to question _why_ they're still being paid peanuts. And some of them are so fed up with waiting for the Council to start paying them properly again, that they've decided to take matters into their own hands. That's why they take bribes. Not for personal gain... well, not _just_ for personal gain, but also because they've been underpaid for too long," Neeshka explained.

"Huh. I'd still rather go hungry than abandon an oath and my morals!" said Khelgar.

"Well good for you. Unfortunately, the world doesn't revolve around Khelgar 'moral-loving' Ironfist. An oath might keep _you_ going for months, but try feeding your big fat oath to your wife and starving children. If you thought about something other than hitting things with your fists, you'd realise that not everybody has been as fortunate as you," said Neeshka, almost hissing with anger.

"Well I... uh... I..."

"Look. All I'm saying is don't be so quick to judge others. Humans aren't Dwarves. Cities aren't druid circles. Not all thieves are criminals if the law isn't just. Some are just desperate," said Neeshka. "But anyway, this was the last guardpost. Why don't we go back to Cormick and see if Kail can get some more money out of him." Outburst apparently over, the Tiefling flashed a smile.

"Unfortunately, I think I'm on a Watchman's salary now. Maybe I should start taking bribes," she said with a wink. Both Khelgar and Neeshka chuckled, and Elanee rolled her eyes.

o - o - o - o - o

"Coming back to the city was a mistake, Neeshka. You didn't think you'd slip in unnoticed, did you?" asked a cocky male voice. Four of what Kail had come to think of as typical goons stepped out from the shadows. All of them were heavily armed, and none looked particularly pleased to be seeing Neeshka with company. _Crap,_ she thought. _Just what we need, fresh from a fight._

"No," said Neeshka, apparently unruffled. "I'm just surprised it took you this long to notice. So who's wasting their money on you this time, Bennon?"

"If you have a problem with Neeshka, you have a problem with me," Kail said, twirling one of her knives in her fingers. The goons didn't look too impressed. _Maybe I should start juggling them_, she thought wryly. _Whilst flaming_.

"That's right, Bennon. You... you think I'd come back without some muscle on my side? Well, you thought wrong! And I'm still waiting for an answer. You're too stupid to come here on your own, so who sent you?" demanded Neeshka.

"Leldon's still got a bounty out on you, goat-girl. He's even upped the price for those horns," Bennon said with a leer at the Tiefling.

"This is one bounty that won't be easy to collect," Kail told him calmly. "Leave now."

"So what'll it be, Bennon? Run now, or let me remove that empty head from your neck?" taunted Neeshka.

"Brave talk, girl, but your luck's run out. I'm gonna send you back to the Nine Hells, where your kind belongs," Bennon spat.

"Hey, home is where the heart is. And I'm staying _right_ here in Neverwinter," Neeshka grinned. She nocked an arrow as the goons jumped forward, and soon all of Kail's attention was taken up with fending off Bennon. He was more skilled than she had given him credit for, and she felt his sword slice her skin twice, though she knew the cuts weren't deep enough to cause her to bleed to death. Around her she could hear the sounds of combat, of her companions breathing in exertion. The screams of dying goons were like music to her ears, and eventually Khelgar was able to help despatch Bennon with a swing of his mace.

Elanee stepped forward, placing her hands on Kail's shoulders, chanting the words to a healing spell. She felt her skin knit itself closed under the power of the Elf's magic, and gave an involuntary shudder. When Elanee had finished tending her wounds she examined the slashes in the material of her shirt; one across the top of the the left arm, a second smaller one on the right by her ribs. Then she turned to look at Bennon's body, and kicked him heavily in the leg.

"You bastard. That was my only clean shirt!" she said.

"Hey, don't worry about it, I'll buy you a new shirt. That's two I owe you now, huh?" asked Neeshka as she rifled through the bodies.

"Great. Care to tell me why that charming gentlemen had such a grudge against my clothing?" she asked.

"Leldon still can't admit that he's the second best thief in Neverwinter. He just takes things too personally."

"'Things'?"

"Well... Leldon and I pulled a job about a year ago. Big haul, too. You should've been there, I was brilliant. So we get back to our hideout and start to divide up the loot, and that's when ol' Leldon starts to demand a bigger share," said Neeshka.

"Ah. I'm beginning to see the problem," said Kail. The Tiefling's greed would be her undoing, she was sure of it.

"**I'm** the one who got us past the guards, and past the trap at the vault. Leldon was just baggage. He claims he planned it all. Not much of a plan if you don't know the guard patrol routes, or that the vault is trapped. If it weren't for me, he would never have gotten past the front door."

"Long story short..." she prompted the thief.

"Right. There's Leldon demanding a bigger share, and he's definitely planned _this_ bit out. He's hired Bennon and his boys as muscle to make sure I agree. Well, the odds weren't in my favour - I'm delicate, you know - so Leldon and I argued for a bit, but I wasn't going to win that one so I got my tail out of there before Bennon got antsy. What's worse is that they didn't just take my share - they took everything I had. And I wasn't in much of a position to argue, y'know?"

"And what did you say whilst leaving that got him so upset?"

"Oh, well, I couldn't just leave things to stand as they were. I mean, I _am_ the best. Leldon's good, and he gets lucky sometimes, but he can't hold a torch to me. So I broke back into his place, stole all the loot, every last copper. And I left a note explaining how I got past each one of his traps."

"Well, if he sends anybody else after you, I'll try to protect you," she said.

"And I'll protect Kail from protecting you," said Khelgar. Neeshka grinned.

"Hey, thanks! You know, letting you team up with me was a great idea. You actually _help_ me. And you insult me a lot less than other people."

"Before echoing that pledge, next time it would help if we knew there were people hunting you to begin with. And why, since they seem to have their reasons," said Elanee.

"Right, right. Of course. That's all of it, I swear," said Neeshka, "Anyway, about these bodies... maybe the rain will wash them away or something. Let's go." The Tiefling stepped disdainfully over the body of Bennon, and lead the way back to the main street.


	13. Retaliation

_13. Retaliation_

"Ladies, ladies, please! There's no call to lose our tempers over this." Duncan's voice floated into Kail's ears as she and her companions approached the Flagon. Together they hurried forward, and met with a confusing scene. Duncan was stood behind two girls who were wearing... bathrobes? Well, whatever they were, they were the most hideous items of clothing Kail had ever seen. Light blue with gaudy gold trimming -- she almost shuddered, and wasn't as if she was the most fashion-inclined person in the realms. A third girl, dressed in a red shirt and dark red trousers, was facing them, and all three young women held their staffs defensively. She wondered if they were going to start beating each other to death.

"Temper? I haven't even gotten warmed up yet!" said the girl in red. Her hair was red too, a bright auburn colour, contrasting against her pale skin.

"Being able to keep a rein on your spells is a sign of discipline, Qara. Something _you_ could never master," said one of the girls wearing a bathrobe. For some reason, the girl reminded her of Vallis, from Fort Locke. _Must be a noble too,_ she thought.

"And the instructors aren't here to shield you," said the second badly dressed girl. "Go on, set fire to this whole street and this sad tavern, and you'll never be able to return to the Academy, let alone Neverwinter."

"As if I'd want to stay in that prison with you high-nosed witches for another year," said the girl who she had come to think of as 'Red'.

"You're right. Here among the docks is where you belong -- peddling yourself for cheap coin."

"Meow! Someone get me a tankard! This is going to get good!" said Khelgar appreciatively.

"What in the Nine Hells did I do to deserve this?" Duncan asked aloud in despair. Then, catching sight of her: "Oh, thank the gods you've arrived. Do something. These ladies are about to start throwing spells outside my establishment."

"What do you want _me_ to do?" she asked in surprise.

"I don't know, but do it quick! They won't be able to ferry enough water from the harbour to put out the blaze if things get out of hand!"

"Heatha! I think members of the Watch are here," said one of the pair.

"Friends of yours, Qara? Come to bail you out, perhaps?" the first girl in blue asked of Red.

"I don't need anyone's help to turn you into **ash**," said Red with a sneer.

"What seems to be the problem here?" Kail asked them. She had heard a couple of the other Watchmen -- _real_ Watchmen -- use that phrase, and it seemed... right.

"There is nothing to discuss. Qara has threatened us for the last time, and we will stand for it no longer," said the first girl.

"Yeah, if Qara's so superior to us, I say let her prove it _without_ the Academy instructors stepping in to stop things," added the second girl.

"The intructors?" asked Red-turned-Qara. "They never stopped me before. **You** always went running to them, not **me**. I've heard every word you've said about me. Always talking behind my back, ridiculing **me**, just because it takes **you** a shoreman's hour to cast a cantrip." _Oh gods. Mages. It's like Tarmas, multiplied by three_, thought Kail.

"Ha! And you think setting fire to a stable while casting yours is any better, Qara? I practice restraint, not showy, excessive displays."

"Yeah, Heatha is simply cautious in her craft. _You're_ the dangerous one, Qara."

"If you knew how dangerous I was, then you should have known better than to push me this far," said Qara. Kail sighed. Wasn't she entitled to a little peace and quiet occasionally? It _was_ her first day on the job, after all. Allowing a group of spoilt wizards to burn down the Docks district would not look good on her so-far stirling record.

"I am personally going to drop you all into a part of the ocean so deep that your bodies will sink for a thousand years before touching land again," she said.

"I... I would not intervene, if I were you, else we'll be forced to stop you as well. We _are_ wizards, you know," said the second girl, though she suddenly sounded quite unsure of herself. With a slight, **very** slight, pang of guilt, she realised that's exactly what they _were_ -- girls, not even out of their late teens yet. Still, _she_ hadn't been as annoying or stupid as a teenager, she was sure of it.

"Neeshka, fetch me some bricks for boots," she told the Tiefling, who grinned wickedly at the young mages.

"Heatha, I don't want to be cast out of the Academy if we're arrested," the second girl said to the first. Arrested? She was quite sure she had said 'dropped into the ocean' - though, admittedly, that could be construed as 'arrested' by anybody with selective hearing.

"Very well. This isn't worth it. You're fortunate this time, Qara. Next time you had better not let us catch you outside the Academy walls. Come, Glina, I think we've smelled enough of the docks for one day," said the first girl, and stalked off with the second in tow.

"I didn't need your help. Those wizards had it coming," said Qara. "Those noble-born wannabe mages are just jealous. They don't like the fact that I can summon more power from my thumb than they can with a day's worth of concentration."

"Oh?"

"They're always staring into their tomes and books, trying to categorize magic. It's a waste of time. It just... is. And either you understand it, or you don't. It's instinct," Qara explained.

"So you're training at the Academy?" Kail asked.

"Well, the thing is, I'm not a part of the Academy anymore. I... quit. Sort of. After burning down the stable."

"Lass, you should've thought of that before starting a fight outside the Flagon. And the damage you caused _before_ they even showed up," said Duncan angrily.

"It's the wood you use in the rafters. It sets fire easily. Sorry about that," the girl shrugged.

"Sorry? Oh lass, I wasn't asking for an apology. You'll be paying me back, you will, for all my lost business, for a tarnished reputation, and for putting me and my kin in danger like that."

"What?! I'm not working for either of you! Ever!"

"No lass, you will, or by gods you'll bring down a fury from me like you've never seen!" Duncan said. "And not only that, if you don't, you'll be proving those other girls right. I don't think you're willing to admit that you don't have discipline, restraint, or a sense of responsibility, like they claim to have. Besides, I doubt you'll be welcome back at the Academy."

"I don't need her help, Duncan," said Kail. She already felt as if she was babysitting, and the girl wouldn't make things any easier.

"No. She's not going anywhere. If you won't take her with you, then she's going to be working off her debt right here until it's settled," said Duncan, a determined gleam in his eye. Her uncle, it seemed, would not be argued with. "Grab a rag sorceress, there's tables inside that need cleaning for those pretty hands of yours."

"You'll regret this when your inn is in flames in a day's time," said Qara, shooting daggers from her eyes at Duncan. The innkeeper clapped his niece on the shoulder, then followed the girl inside the inn.

"Why do these things always happen around me?" Kail asked her friends, leading them away from the Flagon and to the Watchpost.

"Hmm... have you been annoying any gods lately, lass?" asked Khelgar.

"Maybe you're cursed," Neeshka suggested. "We could take you to see a priest, or get the tree-worshipper to examine you. What do you think, tree-worshipper?"

"I think," said Elanee, sniffing the air with a light frown marring her features, "that I can smell smoke."

_Oh crap,_ thought Kail, and she burst into a run, her friends following behind her. _Why do these things always happen around me?_

o - o - o - o - o

The companions were panting as they arrived at the Watchpost; or what was left of it. The flames were luckily confined to that one building alone, and she hoped that the winds would not shift with force.

"_Torching_ the Watchpost? They're really getting deseperate," said Neeshka, a mixture of awe and horror on her face as she watched the flames.

"What happened here?" Kail asked, grabbing the arm of a passing Watchman.

"That bitch Moire is behind this, I'm certain," he spat. "We've lost a lot of good men in there, including Lieutenant Roe. I hope the 'good' Captain is happy now."

"What does the Captain have to do with this?"

"She's been too afraid to clamp down on organised crime in this district, and look at what it's gotten us. The thieves have grown too bold. If you want orders, go speak to Marshal Cormick. He's with Captain Brelaina in the Watch House in the Merchant district. Hopefully he's talking some sense into her." She nodded and released his arm, allowing him to continue running with his bucket of water.

"I'll show you the way," said Neeshka, turning towards the Dolphin Bridge.

"If you ask me, the 'little people' have just gone beyond 'helping themselves' to all-out war," said Khelgar, shooting a slightly triumphant look at the Tiefling's back.

"Hey, even I think they've gone too far now. The smart thing to do would've been to lay low for a while, let the Watch think they were winning, lower their guard a little whilst quietly building up their own power base. Now they've probably attracted the personal attention of the Council, not to mention Lord Nasher. There'll be a crack-down on this, believe me, and we're going to be caught _right_ in the middle," Neeshka groaned.

"It seems to me that if the people of Neverwinter worked together, there is more they could accomplish than if they fought each other," said Elanee thoughtfully as the river rushed below the bridge beneath their feet.

"I agree," said Kail replied. "That was how things worked in West Harbor, for the most part."

"Well cities don't work like that," said Neeshka. "They're big, and most people are strangers. The people with power will do anything to keep it, and the people who want it will do anything to get it. Everybody else does what they can to survive, and as long as the people with power aren't hurt by it, they just don't care."

"But it need not be this way!" said Elanee adamantly. "Elven cities, though easily as big as Neverwinter, do not fall victim to the same sort of corruption. They are fair, beautiful places which promote equality..." Neeshka scoffed.

"Yeah, promote equality for everybody else who's an Elf. _Been_ to many Elven cities, have you?" the Tiefling asked sweetly.

"Well... no. I've lived most of my life in Merdelain," Elanee admitted.

"There you go. There is corruption in cities, whether they're Human cities, or Elven cities, or Dwarven dirt burrows."

"Hey!"

"The Watch House?" Kail prompted quietly before Mount Khelgar erupted.

"Right. It's this building over here," said Neeshka, leading the way to a tall stone building. "Um... look. Would you mind... well... holding my arms behind my back and frogmarching me in there? I'd just rather not be seen voluntarily entering a Watch building. _Especially_ not after what just happened in the Docks. A lot of people know me by sight, and if word gets out that I'm helping the _Watch_..."

"Yeah, we know, it'll ruin your 'precious' reputation," Khelgar grinned. Neeshka glared at him.

"Did you take one too many hits to the head in that fight with Bennon? Do you know what thieves _do_ to collaborators? This won't just ruin my reputation, moss-breath, it'll ruin my ability to experience the finer things in life... like _breathing_!"

"Look, Neeshka," said Kail, stepping into the argument. "You've already done so much for me, and I don't want you to do any more if you feel your life is at risk. You too, Elanee. I know you're anxious to be away from 'the trappings of civilisation' as you call them. I won't mind if either of you wants to leave the city, or go back to the Flagon. Same for you, Khelgar. I know these brawls aren't all to your liking..."

"Bah, there's not a chance I'm leaving ye, lass. Truth is, I enjoy travelling with ye."

"And I will not leave either," said Elanee with a smile. "For better or worse, you are part of my... Circle... now. It is true, I care little for this city, and I am still anxious to learn the fate of the Circle of the Mere, but I believe the answers lie with you and your shards. You have helped me, and I will help you. After that... we shall see."

"I'm not leaving you alone with these two," said Neeshka. "I mean, it's not like any of you have much experience with cities, and I know Neverwinter like the back of my tail. And I kind of owe you for risking your necks to save mine. I'm sorry I snapped, but I'd still like to be frogmarched in here."

"Huh, we could tie ye up as well if you wanted. And a gag!" Khelgar suggested with a gleam in his eye.

"Let's not go overboard, stumpy. Just make it look like this is against my will, okay?"

"Anything you say, Tiefling. Anything you say," he grinned, and marched her into the building at mace-point.

o - o - o - o - o

"Ah, you must be the new recruits that Cormick has been telling me about," said Brelaina. The Captain of the Watch was a tall, determined looking women, with short cropped brown hair and a way of carrying herself that suggested she had been doing the job for a long time.

"That's right. I'm Kail. This is Khelgar, Neeshka, and Elanee," she replied.

"And I hear we have you to thank for the hard-line approach to keeping 'order' at the Docks that has provoked such a violent response from the thieves," said Brelaina, more than a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

"If you mean that you have me to thank for carrying out my orders efficiently and without falling to the same corruption that has gripped the hearts of so many _loyal_ Watchmen... then yes, yes you do. And I make no apology for it."

"If I had any doubts that you were from West Harbour, they just ran screaming for mercy," the Captain said dryly. "Do they breed mule-headed stubbornness into you people?"

"That's right, Captain," said Cormick, a few paces away. "And don't forget 'honesty', and 'dedication', and..."

"Yes yes, I get the point. Kail, Marshal Cormick has informed me of your desire to enter Blacklake." She nodded in confirmation. "I can't allow you entry just yet; the situation in the Docks is too unstable, and I need every hand there that I can spare. If you are still willing to work for the Watch, I have other tasks for you to carry out. Completing these tasks as per my orders will go a long way to convincing me to allow you into Blacklake," said Brelaina.

"I don't think I have much of a choice," said Kail. She was too far down the path to turn around now.

"You're right. After your actions in the Docks, I think it's likely that you have already been marked for death by Moire," said Brelaina. Neeshka groaned loudly from the corner of the room.

"Then I'll just have to hunt her down and bring her in," said Kail, meeting Brelaina's gaze with a cool stare of her own.

"In time. For now, a hole has been left by Lieutenant Roe's death - a hole which you are going to fill. Since you seem to be the... voice... of your group, I'm promoting you to Lieutenant."

"How's the pay?" she asked.

"Still a pittance," said Cormick.

"And my new assignment?"

"You're not one for bland pleasantries, are you, Lieutenant?" asked Brelaina with a touch of humour -- and respect? -- in her voice.

"Not when I'm marked for death, Captain."

"Very well. As for your assignment; we have always believed that Moire and her gang would not openly draw weapons against us out in the street, that they would continue to undermine us in more... subtle ways. But we have recently received word that they are planning to do just that. One of our informants has told us of a supply of weapons that is intended for Moire, and I want you to make sure they don't reach her. Instead, you will confiscate the smuggled items and we will use them to supply our _own_ men. A nice touch of irony," said Brelaina.

"You'll also have to deal with turncoats. Any Watchman who's broken his vows should be arrested and brought in for questioning," said Cormick, his voice bitter.

"One issue at a time, Cormick. We need those Watchmen as a show of force in the docks, to reassure the merchants of our presence there and to dissuade the thieves who _aren't_ allied with Moire from growing too bold," Brelaina explained.

"They are already too bold, and we don't need those scarecrows. They're a blight on the Watch, and a blight on Neverwinter," the Marshal spat.

"I agree with Brelaina," she spoke up. "Sorry, 'Captain' Brelaina. Even if you hold a runt in your hand, you can still bluff, and make the other players believe that you hold kings." That was Lucas again. He had introduced her to cards. Daeghun probably wouldn't approve; not of the card playing itself, but of everything else her mentor had taught her - the accompanying sleight of hand, misdirection, how to cloud an opponent's judgement with a quiet song...

"And the weapons are your primary concern in this case, Lieutenant. We will deal with the turncoats in time," said Brelaina.

"I'll get on it right away," she confirmed with a nod.

"No, you won't," said Brelaina. Then she smiled. "As eager as you are to be done with these tasks, I'm afraid you're going to have to wait for the wheels to turn elsewhere. Our informant tells us that the shipment isn't due in until tomorrow afternoon, so until then... have the day off."

"Really? Wow. I... wish I had something to do with my time," she said.

"Don't worry, I have plans for you," said Neeshka, a frightening smile on her face.

"Tomorrow afternoon you will need to enter the Back Alley and procure those weapons by any means necessary. Do you know where the Back Alley is?" Cormick asked her.

"No, but I have a tour guide," she replied.

"I'll expect a report tomorrow evening at the latest," said Brelaina, dismissing the new Lieutenant. Kail gave her a low, mock bow, and followed her companions out of the building.

"So, Neeshka. Tell me about these 'plans'..."


	14. Honour Amongst Thieves

_14. Honour Amongst Thieves_

Shopping. Oh gods, how she had come to hate it. Neeshka had dragged them around the entire Merchant district in an attempt to outfit Kail with more 'suitable' clothing. Still, she had to admit that the thief had taste. At first she had been afraid that 'suitable' clothing in Neeshka's mind would consist of low-cut dresses or, and this was infinitely more likely, an entirely black ensemble, all the better for sneaking around in the shadows.

As it turned out, suitable clothing now included shirts in a variety of subtle, natural colours that were a little tighter than she was used to -- but as Neeshka said, 'If you're going to be throwing yourself into combat without any armour, your loose-fitting farmer shirts aren't going to help you, and they'll only get torn more easily' -- and a couple of pairs of functional trousers with a great many pockets, though she suspected that was more for the thief's benefit than her own. They still played the stone-hiding game every day, and so far she had only caught Neeshka in the act once.

Now she, Elanee and Khelgar was sitting outside yet another clothing shop whilst Neeshka made a 'private' purchase. What that meant exactly she had no idea, but it since it was more than likely nefarious in nature, she had decided to stay out of it. Having the Watch's newest recruit implicated with thievery probably wasn't such a good idea. Not on her first day on the job, at least. Maybe tomorrow.

"Are you alright, Khelgar?" she asked. The warrior had been unusually silent since their meeting with one of the priests of Tyr an hour ago. It seemed his quest to learn how to fight like a monk had already hit its first proverbial wall. Three of them, in fact. The priest had told him that he must first complete three trials; the Trial of the Maimed, the Trial of the Even-Handed, and the Trial of the Just.

"I never harmed me kin in me life," he grumbled. He was taking the priest's refusal to teach him pretty hard. She let him simmer in his own anger for a while. He had only just stopped ranting, and she didn't want to set him off again.

"Well I think wanting to become a monk is a commendable goal," said Elanee. Khelgar merely grunted, and Kail shrugged at the Elf. The door of the shop opened and Neeshka stepped out hugging a package to her chest.

"I think we're done shopping for now, unless any of you want to buy something," the thief grinned, and was met with a round of blank expressions. "Right. So. What do you want to do now?"

"I'm disappointed. I thought you'd be harder to find than this, Neeshka. Leldon's been after you for some time now," said a man, approaching their group with a handful of men who had 'goon' written all over them.

"If I didn't wanna be found you'd still be stumbling around in the dark, Tremmel. Tell Leldon to back off, or I'll be coming for him," the Tiefling replied.

"Time to do your stuff, Khelgar," said Kail, standing and brushing the dust from her clothes.

"Aye, lass. Things were beginning to get a little too quiet for me."

"Leldon's not just paying me gold for this, he's also bringing me in as his partner - just as soon as I bring him your horns," said Tremmel.

"You're doing this to become Leldon's partner? Trust me, I'll be doing you a favour killing you," Neeshka smiled.

"I don't suppose I can talk you into leaving?" she asked, and heard Elanee begin chanting quietly behind her.

"Oh no, Elf, yer not doing that again," said Khelgar, grabbing his mace and rushing at Tremmel in the fastest display of speed that Kail had ever seen from him. Instead of moving for her knives, she instead took out her flute. _Like hells I'm going to spend my time pulling bloody knives from chests,_ she thought as she played a familiar tune. It was the same tune she had played on the night of the attack in West Harbor; the same tune that had so fascinated the Duergar now caught the attention of Tremmel and his thugs, and they all stopped their attacks to listen to the music.

In her mind she conjured the image of something elusive slipping our of her grasp, and her music reflected this. When the elusive thing drew near, she slowed her notes, and as she reached out an imaginary hand to grab it, she increased the speed and tempo. _Sticklebacks in a stream, slipping through your fingers. Smoke curling away from your grasp. The colourful flash of a bird's feathers as it flies through the trees._ Captivated by her own music, she followed the tune, followed it through herself, and away on the breeze.

"Err, lass," said Khelgar, tugging quite forcefully on her arm. "Ye can stop playing now, lass." She opened her eyes to the corpses on the floor, and let the music die on her instrument.

"That was very beautiful," smiled Elanee. "You should play more often."

"Leldon's more obsessed than I thought," said Neeshka as she picked over the bodies. "I wonder how many of his goons we'll have to carve up before he gets wise."

"I think it's time we paid your friend Leldon a visit," she told the thief.

"I guess you're right," admitted Neeshka. "As much as I'm enjoying tweaking his nose, I guess Leldon's getting out of hand. He'll be ready though. Since he knows I'm here he's _got_ to know that I'll be coming for him."

"Then let's do something unexpected," she smiled.

"Well... he _does_ have a soft-spot," said Neeshka. "There's this coin he has that he thinks is lucky. Always takes it with him on jobs, won't do anything without it. Real annoying. He's probably got it well protected, and I want to steal it out from under his nose."

"And that will achieve what, exactly?"

"Don't you see? If I can get my hands on that coin, he might give up. After all, without it, his plans will always fail. At least _he_ thinks so. We can use his superstition against him," Neeshka explained.

"I'm not sure Leldon is the one we have to worry about. At least **he** makes his grievances plain." said Elanee. "If theft got you, and us, into this trouble to begin with, I fail to see how it will solve matters to steal again. I don't think it's even a plan. It doesn't make sense. And what's more, is that anybody willing to resort to murder over a theft isn't likely to stop because it's done to them a second time. Furthermore, it has nothing to do with why we're here in the city. Not at all. If we want to do something, we should seek out the druid loremasters in Neverwinter Wood. They are likely to know as much about the shards as this Aldanon."

"Ohh, so is that your problem? That we're not doing what _you_ want to do?" asked Neeshka. "Maybe you haven't thought of this, but maybe there's a reason that you haven't come across any druids. Maybe they're all gone, or in hiding, or gave up their duties - kinda like you have by being in this city. I mean, why are you even here? Huh? Why?!"

"That's enough, both of you. This isn't the time or the place," sighed Kail. _And I thought I only had Khelgar and Neeshka arguing to worry about_.

"No. She deserves an answer," said Elanee, a touch of defiance on her face. Kail wondered how old the Elf _really_ was. It was always hard to tell, with Elves, but at times, Elanee seemed very young indeed. "You are right, of course. I should not be here, but I do not know where else to go, and my only clues as to what happened to my Circle may lie with those shards. So yes, I do not wish to be in this city. I do not wish to be a burden, but I do not know what else to do to help. All I can think of is seeking out the druids in case they know what we _can_ do. But I will go along with whatever Kail decides. If we help you, so be it. If not, then I will stand by that decision as well."

"Well, alright," said Neeshka grudgingly. "Maybe I wasn't it explaining it well enough, but if we grab that coin from Leldon's stash, well... at least we'll have something to bargain with. He _really_ likes that coin."

"Okay, we'll do it your way, Neeshka. What do we need to do?" Kail asked her. The Tiefling grinned.

"Well, first we'll need to figure out where Leldon is holed up. I doubt any of my old contacts will want to talk - it looks like Leldon's got some influence in this district. But Ophala might know... she runs the Moonstone Mask." Kail quirked a questioning eyebrow at her. "It a place where people go when they need some... erm... 'privacy'. She's cleaned it up a lot since the war, but I kinda preferred it the way it was. Still, she knows a lot of what goes on in the Mechant Quarter, and in Blacklake. She'd probably help us out."

"Alright, lead on," said Kail, stepping past yet another group of bodies in her wake.

o - o - o - o - o

"I knew Ophala would come through for us," said Neeshka, stepping out of the Mask.

"I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted that she offered me a job," said Elanee with a sniff.

"Are you kidding? Consider it a compliment. Ophala accepts _only_ the best," Neeshka grinned. "It's too bad she didn't offer a job to Kail as well."

"I guess I'm just not pretty enough to become a woman of ill repute," she replied dryly.

"Ha!" scoffed Neeshka. "You're more than attractive enough, but you have entirely the wrong attitude."

"'Attitude'?" she asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Yeah, you know. Serving girls are supposed to be a little meek, or coy, or suggestive, and have that 'how may I please you today, sir?' air about them. Or so I hear. But your attitude is more... 'let's see how tough you _really_ are, you pathetic excuse for a dog'. If you know what I mean."

"Whereas _**I**_ am meek, coy, suggestive, and have the attitude of a prostitute?" asked Elanee coolly.

"Err, no! I mean... what I meant was... Oh geez."

"Har, who's opened their big mouth _this_ time, Tiefling?" said Khelgar. For the first time they noticed that the Dwarf was almost in tears from laughing at both at the entire exhange in the Mask, and the conversation that was continuing outside.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. Anyway, I know the place where Leldon's holed up. I can get past any traps he's set, but there might be guards, too. I'll rob him on my own, if none of you want to take the risk..." she trailed off, obviously unwilling to ask outright for help.

"Well, count me in," said Kail. "Leldon is beginning to annoy me."

"I'm in too, as long as there's a fight in it," said Khelgar.

"And I will come as well. Perhaps I can distract the guards with my suggestive ways," said Elanee pointedly, and Khelgar doubled over with laughter again.

o - o - o - o - o

There had been guards. Elanee had not needed to flirt with them, as Khelgar had put most of them to sleep. Permanently.

Kail surveyed the room as Neeshka worked on the lock of the iron-caged vault area. It was a pretty chunky looking lock, and the thief had already been working on it for almost five minutes.

"Distract me," said Neeshka. "I work better with minor distractions."

"Alright," she replied. "I'm thinking of Khelgar. Dressed like one of the dancers from the Mask. With flowers in his beard, and honey smothered all over his head..."

"I said _distract_ me, not make me want to vomit," said Neeshka. Beside her, Elanee made a quiet sound of agreement. She had no idea where the Dwarf was. He had disappeared into one of the side rooms and hadn't returned yet.

"Fine, fine. Next time you might want to be a little more specific. How about this? Since we have most of tomorrow off, I was thinking we could get some more practise done. It's been a while since we did anything more intensive than some light exercise and sparring." She and Neeshka had a daily ritual that they performed every morning without fail. After waking, but before breakfast, they would work through some stretches and exercises designed to increase suppleness of the body, and then spent a little time sparring. 'Practise, practise, practise' was Lucas' motto, and she did.

"Sounds good to me," said Neeshka, and at the same time the lock went _'click'_. "Ah, perfect. Leldon has yet to design a lock that I can't break into. And look," she gestured at a pile of gold sat beside a chest, "how nice of him to leave us some coin for our trouble. Since his boys ripped your shirt, I'd say this will do nicely as compensation." The money went into her pockets and bags in record time, then she turned her attention to the chest. "Distract me again."

"Elanee," said Kail, turning to the druid but including Neeshka in the conversation, "what were you saying earlier about druids in Neverwinter Wood?"

"I'm sorry I did not suggest it sooner," replied the Elf. "I believe that the loremasters there might have some knowledge of the shards that you carry, as well as what is happening to the land. I would have mentioned it earlier, but I was worried that you might doubt my motives, or believe that I was suffering from a conflict of interests."

"Once we've spoken to Aldanon, we'll see about looking for these druids, then," she said. "A trek through Neverwinter Wood sounds quite pleasant, actually." Elanee smiled gratefully.

"Hello? This isn't distracting me, it's boring me."

"Right. Hmm, what name would you choose to work under, if you took Ophala up on her offer?" Kail asked. Neeshka snickered as she worked.

"I can't use my own name?" Elanee asked in surprise.

"I doubt 'Teelah' was the dancer's real name."

"Hmm, I don't know. I've never had to think of it before. Maybe Neeshka could make some suggestions." _Click_.

"No need, it's open." She reached into the chest and lifted out a single coin. "Got it!"

"Great," said Kail, relaxing a little. "Can we get out of here? I'm dying for something cool and relaxing to drink."

"Speaking of drinking, where's Khelgar?" asked Neeshka, looking around. They back-tracked through the building and found him in a store room, staring at a suit of silvery-white armour on a stand.

"Khelgar?" asked Kail, touching his shoulder. The Dwarf didn't take his eyes off the armour in front of him.

"Would ye look at this?" he said, awe evident in his voice.

"I wonder what Leldon's doing with a suit of Dwarf-sized plate," said Neeshka in amusement.

"This isn't just any Dwarf-sized plate, it's Mithril plate! And pretty fine stuff too, judging by the crafting on it."

"So grab it and let's go," said Neeshka, bouncing on her heels.

"What?! I'm no thief! This suit of armour may be stolen goods, but that doesn't give me the right to steal it a second time! That'd make me no better than... you!" he said in disgust. Neeshka rolled her eyes.

"Khelgar," said Kail quietly. "Tomorrow we are going to wage war on Moire and her gang. We need to be in top form, and we need to have the best gear available to us. I know you'll try to deny it, but that chain shirt of yours just isn't taking the blows anymore. I've seen you wince once or twice from knocks from heavy-hitters." He had even let Elanee use light healing spells on him a couple of times, when he thought nobody else was looking. That said a lot.

"Hnh, I'm not afraid of a few blows, lass. If they knock me down, I'll just get back up again and punch them fer the trouble."

"I know, but what if next time it's not a blow from a cudgel that hits you, but a bolt from a crossbow? We can't afford to have you seriously wounded like that in the middle of a battle with hardened criminals. You know that Elanee, Neeshka and I just can't take hits like you can, and if they take you out, they'll be able to polish us off pretty quickly." Behind her Neeshka made a sound of protest, but she heard Elanee silence the Tiefling with a not-so-gentle kick to the shin. "And what's more, if we fail our mission, that cache of weapons will end up in Moire's hands. She'll get her war, and the Docks will run red with the blood of innocents caught up in the middle. So it is your social and moral obligation, nay, your civic duty, to take that armour which is sitting here doing nothing, and put it to good use in the higher cause of justice and freedom."

"Well, when you put it like that, lass," Khelgar said, his eyes gleaming. "I s'pose we can always turn it over to Cormick after we're done fighting his war."

"I absolutely agree," said Elanee. She nudged Neeshka, who also voiced her agreement. Khelgar relented, and lifted the armour from the stand, and Kail led her companions out of the hideout with a smile tugging at her lips. _I don't know why I was so leery of it before,_ she thought. _I __**love**__ performing._


	15. Sorcery, Sailors, and Songs

_15. Sorcery, Sailors, and Songs_

Wearily, Kail led her companions into the Flagon. The sun was touching the horizon, and it had been an eventful day. Now all she wanted was a cold glass of ale and a decent hot meal. She unfastened her Watch cloak and draped it over the back of a chair as she sank onto a stool by the bar.

"And how was my niece's first day in her new job?" Duncan asked, pouring her a drink while Sal took care of her companions.

"Someone burnt down the Watchpost," she said with a shrug.

"It wasn't me," called Qara from across the room. The sorceress, like Duncan and Sal, was wearing an apron, and she carried a rag, though she continually wrung it with her hands whilst glaring at Duncan's neck. That probably didn't bode well for her uncle.

"We think it was Moire and her gang," Neeshka told Duncan as she, Khelgar and Elanee took their drinks to a table.

"Moire? Well, you just be careful. Once you've crossed her she'll never forget..."

"Get this mangy creature away from me or I swear, I'll roast it alive!" said Qara. Kail immediately looked around for the crow, but it was sat on the table with her friends. Elanee had, on her request, impressed upon the bird that it needed to wait in the Flagon until Kail returned. It probably wouldn't do to have it following her everywhere whilst she was on duty, and Duncan didn't seem to mind as long as it didn't make a mess.

Turning her head to Qara, she saw Karnwyr in front of her, growling menacingly with his hackles raised. The girl looked more angry than afraid, and was pointing her finger at the creature as if preparing to cast a spell right then and there.

"Bishop! Stop letting that wolf harass my staff or it'll go outside - and you with it," her uncle warned.

_Ah, a name for Duncan's 'regular',_ she thought to herself. The newly-identified Bishop, sat in what she had already come to think of as his usual seat, shot Duncan a malice-filled glare, but Karnwyr returned immediately to his side.

"Anyway, as I was saying," Duncan continued, "she'll never forget... hey, what are you doing with my niece?" The last was aimed at Neeshka, who had run up and taken Kail's hand, dragging her towards the bedrooms.

"I'll have her back in a minute," said Neeshka. Kail tried to protest, but the Tiefling was deceptively strong, and she was pulled down the corridor and into her own bedroom.

"Here, this is for you," said Neeshka, handing her the package she had bought in the last clothing shop earlier in the day. She raised her eyebrows in surprise, but opened the gift nonetheless. Inside was a red shirt, cut in a very... unusual style. It reminded her of something, but she couldn't _quite_ put her finger on what... "I saw a picture of a woman pirate captain in a book once," explained Neeshka, "and she was wearing a shirt almost _exactly_ like that. When I saw this, I just _had_ to buy it for you. I mean, after all the fun you had on the Double Eagle, and Captain Flinn's offer to keep you on..."

"You heard about that?" she asked, surprised.

"I hear a _lot_ of things," said Neeshka with a level gaze. Then her face broke into a grin. "Anyway, I figured you deserved something to remind you of your brief time at sea." Neeshka was right, she realised. The cut was very similar to that of the shirts worn by the sailors on the Eagle. She could see that, now that the other woman had pointed out the obvious.

"Thank you, it's a wonderful gift," she smiled, genuinely touched at the thief's gesture. "But..."

"No buts! You saved my life and helped me with Leldon, and you don't doubt me when the tree-worshipper and moss-breath are against me. So this is my thanks. If you don't accept it, you'll be offending me."

"Don't you think the neckline is a little low?" she asked in defeat.

"It could be worse. At least it's not a Bloodsailor shirt. And trust me, if you've never seen one, you never want to. Those things leave _nothing_ to the imagination. Besides, it's not low at all. You just think it is because all you have are farmer shirts. Now, change into it and come back into the common room. Don't be too long, either; your drink's going warm." With a flick of her tail Neeshka disappeared out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

With a sigh, she pulled her own damaged shirt over her head, and dumped it on the bed for later mending. Then she put on the new shirt, noting the material was of a finer quality than anything she currently owned, and looked at herself in the mirror. She still _looked_ like herself, but she also looked a little bit more... dashing? _Can women look dashing? Gods know... Ah well, at least I'll be back in the Watch cloak tomorrow._ Giving a last half-hearted attempt at running her fingers through her hair to untangle the knots, she slipped out the door and returned to the common room.

"Ha! You call that an insult, goat-girl? Even the tree-worshipper could scrape up something better than that!" said Khelgar. He and Neeshka were stood leaning against the bar, and Kail stopped in the doorway to watch and listen.

"Goat-girl? I've never heard that one before, stumpy," the Tiefling said.

"Bah, you're not trying. That's a nickname, not an insult. We Ironfists call our own **children** 'stumpy', you... skinny bull. Pah!"

"Skinny bull? That doesn't even make any sense. Go back to your drinking, moss-breath. At least you're good at that."

"Amateurs," said Qara, standing up and rubbing her back after a particularly taxing effort at cleaning a table that still looked as dirty as it had before she started.

"Amateurs? Hey, the Tavern Queen thinks she's better than us, Khelgar," said Neeshka, turning around to glare at the sorceress.

"Is that so? You're the one wiping the tables, Your Highness," he said with a mock bow.

"You two wouldn't know an insult if it walked up and bit you," replied Qara.

"Well then, why don't _you_ show us how it's done, firehair," said Neeshka.

"Firehair," said Qara thoughtfully. "Imaginative, biting, with juuust the slightest hint of wit. Is that _really_ the best your demon-blood can squeeze out... tail for brains?"

"My brains are **not** in my tail."

"So, where are they, right next to it? If so, might want to loosen the back of your pants a notch, because even with the hole, they're obviously not getting enough air."

"Okay, explain that one to me," said Neeshka, turning to Khelgar in confusion.

"Well, she said yer brains are next to yer tail, which would imply that yer brains are in yer rear end, and that you breath through yer... ah..." he chuckled.

"Okay, okay, I get it, alright? Little witch," said Neeshka.

"Don't take it so hard. I had to explain it, which means the insult's a failure, but a tankard for effort, Your Highness. By my reckoning, the Flagon's never had a finer table-cleaning goblin-wench," Khelgar told Qara.

"What, since your mother lost her job?"

"Heh, now don't you go bringing my mother into this. You'd best be careful, you simpering little father's girl, or you'll be learning a thing or two about Ironfist honour and manhood!"

"Oh, you mean the two smallest things in all of Faerûn? From what I hear, **no** woman could learn about Ironfist manhood from _you_, Khelgar."

"Wh- What? I'll have you know plenty of women know about Ironfist manhood. Plenty! They just... all live up around Waterdeep, or they'd tell you!"

"Khelgar, calm down!" said Neeshka.

"Calm down?! I won't take those words from some twig of a girl, who doesn't know enough to choose the right tavern to fight in!"

"At least **I** learnt my lesson from my tavern brawl, you fat-bellied little knee-high," said Qara. "Now, if you're done matching wits with me and coming up _short_, why don't you trundle back to your highchair and drink up your honour until it comes out the other end. Maybe later on, I'll come by to put you in your cradle.

"Huh?"

"Ooh, wow. 'Fat-bellied little knee-high'? That's good!" said Neeshka.

"Shut up, tail for brains," said Khelgar. "And here I thought mages had nothing to offer the world. Duncan, another round."

"Enough, enough, enough. Get back to work, Qara," said Duncan. "And you can fetch your own drink, Dwarf, seeing as how you still haven't paid for a single drop since you've been here."

"Pah, here's a gold coin, that should pay for her for the rest of the day. And _thank you_, I was wondering when you were going to give me free reign of the kegs. Anyone else want anything?" Khelgar asked, stepping around the bar to pour drinks from the barrel tap.

"Some Dwarves should never be allowed to walk the surface," Duncan grumbled under his breath. "Little free-loaders."

Kail looked to Elanee, who merely rolled her eyes in exasperation. Instead of joining the Elf, she made her way to Qara, who was currently hard at work scrubbing another table. Judging by the amount of effort she put into it, which was almost enough to shave a layer of wood, the table had done something to personally offend the young sorceress.

"Have a break for a minute," she told the girl.

"Why thank you, generous employer. And to what do I owe this immeasurable act of kindness and generosity?"

"I want to talk to you for a moment," she said, ignoring the attempts to goad her into an argument.

"Talk?" asked Qara, apparently surprised.

"Yes, it's that thing you do when you open and close your mouth to make words come out. We're doing it right now," she said, then kicked herself for it. The sorceress' eyes narrowed at her, and she held up a hand to forestall the impending argument. "I want to talk about the Academy. That's all."

"What about it?"

"Well, I've never been there. What's it like?" she asked. Hardly an ideal conversation point, but she wanted to put the sorceress at ease, get her to loosen up a little.

"It's full of stuffy noble-born children and pompous know-it-all instructors who think that the way to learn magic is to walk around with your head in a book." Qara sniffed derisively. "But I'm surprised you haven't been there yet. To hear your uncle talk, you're the Gods' gift to the Docks district. Commoners should be falling at your feet to worship, and I'm sure a mere wave of your hand would be enough to sway the Watch to lift the lockdown on Blacklake."

"Whatever you say. Now, insults aside for a moment, what's so bad about learning from books?" she asked.

"Let me ask you. Do you think it is better to _experience_ something, or to _read_ about it?" asked Qara.

"There is something to be said for experience, of course, but books and scrolls can also teach something that isn't as accessible through experience - knowledge. If you can only know about what you experience, then unless you get around a lot, your knowledge is limited. But if you can know through reading, and listening, then that broadens your own capacity for knowledge," she replied.

"I don't know why you're defending them. People like you and me, we don't _need_ books to gain power," said Qara.

"People like... you and me?"

"Sorcerers. Naturals. People who are _born_ with raw power, who only need to _think_ to shape that power into magic."

"But I'm not a sorcerer," she said in surprise. Qara frowned at her.

"But I can feel the power in you. I could feel it the moment I saw you." Here the sorceress took her hand into her own, and placed her other upon the red material of her new pirate shirt. Where the girl's skin touched hers she felt a warm glow, like energy rippling across her whole body. "You have power, just like me. But I use my power, and you suppress yours." She closed her eyes as Qara spoke, felt the energy inside her, the store of emotion that she so feared to let loose, felt it burn with a desire to be free of her body. She barely even heard Qara's words as the girl continued. "You need to stop hiding your power. Stop burying it inside you. Let it out, and everybody will fear you. Nothing and nobody will be able to stand in your path."

She felt conflict, then, deep inside her soul. It felt like the entire world was rushing by at immeasurable speeds, and yet she was not touched by it in the slightest. Inside, the power that she kept on a tight leash writhed and burned in response to the touch of the sorceress. She knew what the girl was trying to do. Qara was trying to get her to recognise the power within herself -- not the power of a sorcerer, no, but something not all that dissimilar -- was trying to free that power, to force her to embrace it, to become one with it, to give herself up to it.

To kill with it.

_Yes, yes, let it free, use it to kill the girl! _thought a part of her. But a second voice, one that felt more like a dream, countered it; **If you use the power inside you to kill the girl, it will consume you. **_What's one more death? So many have already died, by knife and dagger. The power is just a tool. Just a tool. Use it. Stop fighting. Stop fighting. Give in. It will be glorious. Consume it, and let it consume you. Become one with it._ **No. Don't give up. Fight. Fight. **_Fight and stay small. Stay weak. Stay chained to daggers of metal and notes of music. _**Give in and become a monster.**___Give in to it, and you will never have to feel pain, never have to feel loss, ever again. _**The moment you stop feeling pain, is when you are dead. Pain is how you know you are alive. So. Says. Lucas.**

Her eyes flew open and she tore Qara's hand from hers, grabbing the sorceress' wrist and pivoting on the spot to force the girl's arm up behind her back. It was a way to conveniently render somebody unwilling to make any sudden movements; Lucas had taught it to her. She brushed her other hand past her hip, grabbing the hilt of one of her daggers from its sheath. Then she applied pressure to Qara's arm, causing the girl to cry out in pain as her face was pushed to the table. Casually, she held the blade of the dagger to the back of the sorceress' neck.

"Touch me again, and mangy wolves will be the least of your problems, little girl," she snarled. The anger and the fury were there, licking at her mind, but she did not give in to them. "I'm not like you. I never will be. Push little wizards around all you want, but if you push me you will discover just how hard I can hit." She released her grip on the girl and returned the dagger to its sheath, then strolled back to her friends, aware that the whole tavern was watching her.

"Err, lass..." said Khelgar warily.

"What just happened there?" asked Neeshka. Elanee wore a similar half-frightened expression to the first two.

"Princess Qara didn't like my new shirt," she said with a sniff, and Neeshka gave her a wide grin. The door of the tavern opened as men began to file in, but she turned her attention to Khelgar, who was examining his new armour with the same sort of pride and care for attention that a mother gave her newborn first child.

"Are you going to try it on for us, Master Dwarf?" she asked with a gesture for the glaringly bright armour.

"Tomorrow, lass. This armour's too good fer lounging around a tavern in. Even a fine, upstanding tavern like the Flagon!" he said, raising his voice so Duncan could hear.

"Forget it, Dwarf, I'm not fetching your drinks. Come and get them yourself," Duncan replied. Kail opened her mouth to reply, and let out a squeak of surprise as she was picked up from behind and lifted from her chair. She was wrapped in an arm against someone's hip, carried as a noble woman might carry a small pet dog.

"Got 'er!" said a booming, triumphant voice.

"Don't let her go!" said another voice. She tried frantically to reach her knives, but her arms were pinned to her sides. The person carrying her moved towards the centre of the room, and she saw her companions scramble for their weapons. Then, before she could even let out a curse at her attackers, she was lifted again and... sat gently upon the table closest to the fire? She blinked, and looked into the looming face of an unfamiliar Half-Orc.

"You Kail? Da bard?" he asked, and she leaned back slightly to avoid skewering her eye on one of his protruding canines.

"Yes," she said, so surprised by the ordeal that the truth was the only thing that came to mind.

"Got a message for yer. S'from... someone who wants to give yer a message," said the Half-Orc. From the corner of her eye she saw Khelgar gesturing wildly, and gave a brief shake of her head. _Might as well hear the message before Khelgar splatters the tavern floor with the halfbreed's brains. Though judging by his conversational skills, it probably won't make that much of a mess..._ The Half-Orc took a deep breath, obviously taxing himself by trying to recall the words. _I wonder if this is a message from Moire. Sort of like... a shake-up. Or is it a shake-down? Or a rough-up?_ She let her thoughts die away as the Half-Orc opened his mouth.

"'Hello'," he said. She blinked.

"Is that the message? In its entirety?"

"No, I be gettin' to it. Yer made me lose me place. Ahem. 'Hello. We's just left der docks. Dis man talkin' to you is Mishnak, brother of Grishnak, wot you met on der Double Eagle. We's going ter be gone fer weeks, but we's comin' back to Neverwinter from Waterdeep. Der offer is still open. All der best, Captain Flinn. Pee Ess. Please don't die.' Dat bit is from Jadar. He sed I has to kiss yer."

"But I will be happy to accept a kiss in his stead," said somebody else from behind the mountain of Mishnak, and she recognised him as the second voice. A pair of hands took hold of Mishnak's shoulders and pulled the Half-Orc back a little. A broad-shouldered Human man gave her a smile and a bow, then took her hand and kissed it. "I am Ashen, no relation to either of the brothers dim."

Now that she had full view of the room again, she could clearly see that these men were sailors -- they wore similar attire to that of the crew of the Double Eagle, and more of them were filing into the tavern, taking up empty tables. That wasn't really saying much, though. As far as she'd been able to tell, Duncan's regular patrons consisted of Bishop, and two men who stayed off to the side of the main common room, whom she had already discovered were smugglers named Fenton and Weasel. She had no idea how the name 'Weasel' had come to be, and was content not to ask.

Behind her, her friends settled back to their table, now that it was obvious there would be no need for bloodshed, although Khelgar did look a little disappointed. She took a moment to examine Ashan; his brown hair was cropped short, and he had an interesting tattoo on the side of his face... sort of like a series of concentric circles with two parallel lines running vertically through the circles and down his cheek.

"Let me guess, you're fresh in port from your ship 'The Triple Owl'" she said.

"The Flying Fox, actually."

"Really? I didn't know foxes could fly."

"Only if you throw them hard enough," he said, flashing her a smile. She rolled her eyes at the joke. "I know, I know, it's terrible, but when you've heard the same 'flying fox'comment a dozen times in every single port from Calimshan to Luskan, you tend to fall into a routine of answering with a lame joke."

"Ah, I see. Well, thank you for delivering the message. Both of you," she said. Mishnak nodded, then pointed a finger at her.

"Grishnak sed you got a good chest on yer." Khelgar, in mid-quaff, laughed aloud, spraying Neeshka and Elanee with a fountain ale.

"Oh gods, that's disgusting," said Neeshka.

"I think I need a bath," said Elanee, holding her arms away from her ale-drenched body.

"What he means to say," Ashen clarified, "is that Grishnak said you have a good pair of lungs _inside_ your chest."

"Ahh, that makes a little more sense," she said. Mount Mishnak opened his mouth again.

"We wants yer to play something marital."

"Really? Well congratulations to the pair of you! For how long have you been wed?" she asked. Elanee let out an infuriated scream as Khelgar sprayed ale over the women and the table again.

"Gee thanks, Khelgar. I think I'm going to give you a pint of ale before every fight and use you as a weapon to _drown_ your opponents to death," said Neeshka.

"I am **not** cleaning that up!" she heard Qara say to Duncan.

"He means 'maritime'. We," Ashen indicated the sailors around him with a wave of his arms, "want you to play something maritime. If you would be so kind, lady bard."

"Shanties are okay?" she asked. Jadar had mentioned that most shanties were only played whilst onboard, and not actually on land. Some could _only_ be played out the outward leg of the journey, and some on the homeward leg. Sailors, it seemed, were a superstitious lot.

"Shanties are fine, as long as we can drink to them," he smiled.

"Okay. You'll have to give me a moment to get in character. There are some pretty esoteric bardic rituals I need to go through first," she said solemnly.

"Indeed? Then by all means, don't let us interfere," he said in surprise, and took a step back. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, relaxing the tension from her shoulders. Reaching into one of her pockets, she took out the kerchief that Jadar had gifted to her -- she had decided that she wanted to keep it close -- and tied it around her head in the sailor fashion. Then she held out her arm and let out a whistle, and the crow jumped from the table, flapping its wings to land on her arm, which she lowered so that it perched on her shoulder. Then she took out her thin flute from its carry-bag at her belt, and smiled at Ashen.

"Just don't mention crackers," she said, and he gave her a chuckle. "I'll play, and you boys can call the lines." He nodded, and she put the flute to her lips, and began to play a song that was familiar to sailors and land-lubbers everywhere. The crew of the Flying Fox quickly recognised it, and took up the refrain as the ale began to flow.

_"What do we do with a drunken sailor,_

_What do we do with a drunken sailor,_

_What do we do with a drunken sailor_

_Early in the morning?_

_Heave-ho, and up she rises,_

_Heave-ho, and up she rises,_

_Heave-ho, and up she rises_

_Early in the morning._

_Put him in the longboat till he's sober,_

_Put him in the longboat till he's sober,_

_Put him in the longboat till he's sober_

_Early in the morning!_

_Heave-ho, and up she rises,_

_Heave-ho, and up she rises,_

_Heave-ho, and up she rises_

_Early in the morning._

_Shave his belly with a rusty razor,_

_Shave his belly with a rusty razor,_

_Shave his belly with a rusty razor_

_Early in the morning!_

_Heave-ho, and up she rises,_

_Heave-ho, and up she rises,_

_Heave-ho, and up she rises_

_Early in the morning._

_Put him into bed with the Captain's daughter,_

_Put him into bed with the Captain's daughter,_

_Put him into bed with the Captain's daughter_

_Early in the morning!_

_Heave-ho, and up she rises,_

_Heave-ho, and up she rises,_

_Heave-ho, and up she rises_

_Early in the morning._

_Leave him on land till he cries for Mommy,_

_Leave him on land till he cries for Mommy,_

_Leave him on land till he cries for Mommy_

_Early in the morning!_

_Heave-ho, and up she rises,_

_Heave-ho, and up she rises,_

_Heave-ho, and up she rises_

_Early in the morning._

_That's what we do with a drunken sailor,_

_That's what we do with a drunken sailor,_

_That's what we do with a drunken sailor_

_Early in the morning!"_

When the sailors stopped singing and began to cheer wildly, she stopped her playing and smiled gratefully at Sal, who brought her a drink. Taking a deep draft of the cool ale that trickled mercifully down her dry throat, she glanced around the room for her friends. Unsurprisingly, Khelgar was arm-wrestling with Mishnak. Both men were sweating, and looked as if they'd been at it for some time. _Hmph, men. They think a little test of strength is hard work? I'd like to see them play flute for __**this**__ lot..._

Neeshka and Elanee were still sat at their 'regular' table, being chatted up by a pair of not-unattractive sailors. At least, Neeshka was being chatted up, judging by the way she was flicking her tail like a cat who'd just been given cream. Elanee held the crow on her lap -- she hadn't even noticed it leave her shoulder, she had been so wrapped up in the song -- and looked like she wanted to wield it in defence against the man talking to her. _Poor Elanee_, she thought. _She's probably even more sheltered than me._

Looking over to the bar she noticed a very harassed Sal pouring drinks for sailors, but it seemed they were drinking them faster than he could pour. Ah well, at least her uncle would make a tidy profit tonight. Thinking of Duncan, she saw him gesturing angrily at a pair of sailors, whilst Qara looked on indignantly and rubbed her rear end, of all things. She fought down a grin at seeing the young sorceress' feathers ruffled.

Getting a familiar prickly 'I'm being watched' sensation, she wasn't surprised to find a twin pair of golden-brown eyes watching her. Bishop was lounging as usual in his chair, looking at her with an intent, yet blank, expression. Karnwyr, she was sure, was laughing at her -- his tongue lolled from his mouth, and she could easily imagine him grinning. The music had lifted her mood, washed away the anger of her encounter with Qara, and her sense of fun began to kick in. She raised her tankard to Bishop in a mock toast and mouthed the words 'Stick around'. His lips curled slightly at the echo of his insult to her, though in a smile or a sneer she couldn't begin to guess.

Leaning forward to peer around the fireplace, she caught sight of Fenton and Weasel in what appeared to be deep discussion. She wondered if they even realised that the tavern was full of jovial sailors. Probably not. They were so caught up in their own affairs that they probably wouldn't even notice if the Flagon was burning down around them. _Gods forbid._

"Fair lady shantyman bard," said Ashen, clapping one of his fellows on the shoulder as he approached her, "Might I trouble you for another song?"

"Got anything in particular in mind?" she asked. He leant towards her and whispered in her ear, and she grinned.

"You know it?" he asked.

"I know the tune, and some of the words, though not all of them. But I'm sure you and your mates will be able to handle that nicely," she said with a smile.

"Aye, that we will!" he said, and called for Sal to bring her another drink. She took a moment to reseat herself, lifting her legs onto the table to sit cross-legged and straight-backed, then launched into a jaunty tune whilst the men sung the lyrics to one of the most bawdy sailor songs known to mortal man;_ "I know what a sailor likes"._ She played with her eyes closed, trying _very_ hard to not imagine the look on Elanee's face. It was difficult, especially when she heard Khelgar join in, singing heartily on the second time through the chorus.

When she opened her eyes at last, after the song had ended, she wasn't at all surprised to see Elanee wearing a look that encompassed both disgust and horror. Smiling, she launched into another song, and then another, until it felt like she had done nothing but play the flute forever. Three tankards of ale later, she gestured Ashen over to her.

"One last song," she said. "I've got a busy day ahead tomorrow. Big fight. Need to be rested," she explained between sips of ale. He nodded in understanding.

"The boys will be disappointed, but we can amuse ourselves easily enough. One last one, hmm? Then make it 'My Bonnie'. And you sing it. It always sounds better sung by a pretty lady than a tavern full of drunken sons of whores."

"Wha' did you say 'bout my mother?!" slurred a nearby sailor, pointing in accusation at Ashen, though his arm wavered wildly. The sailor tried to take a step forward, but fell flat on his face instead, and was hauled away by two of his crewmates.

"I'd need a different instrument for that," she said apologetically. "I can't sing and play the flute."

"Somebody fetch this lassie a stringed instrument!" shouted Ashen at his fellows. Somebody at the back of the tavern brandished a mandolin, waving it in the air. The instrument was then handed reverentially through the crowd, until Ashen retrieved it and placed it in her hands. She held it up to her ear, to better hear over the din, and plucked each string in turn.

"Whoever tuned this was tone-deaf," she told him.

"A sad fate for any instrument," he said regretfully. "Can you fix it?"

"Of course," she smiled, and turned the strings at the head of the instrument until they produced the correct notes. Then, experimenting, she let her fingers pick at the strings, producing a rippling effect that increased in speed as she grew in confidence. She had used a mandolin before, several years ago. In fact, it was the first stringed instrument she had learnt to play. Since then, Lucas had progressed her onto the lute and the lyre, but she always held a special place in her heart for the mandolin.

For a few moments she played nonsense tunes, little pieces of notation that Lucas had taught her back when she was still struggling with fingering. One part of her mind registered that most of the sailors had ceased their loud merrymaking, and had turned their attention expectantly towards her. The rest of her mind ignored them. They didn't matter. Only the mandolin mattered. The touch of the smooth wood beneath her fingers was like a silken dream, countered by the harsh reality of the sharp strings, which bit into fingers that had grown used to playing the flute. Though her mind still remembered, her body had forgotten the mandolin, and the tips of her fingers were no longer calloused. Thankfully, she could survive for one song. When she judged that the timing was right -- her timing, not the expectations of everybody else -- she slipped into the correct tune, playing a brief intro before taking a breath. As she started to sing, she let her eyes unfocus, and saw _through_ the mass of sailors; an image of waves sprang up in her mind.

_"My Bonnie lies over the ocean_

_My Bonnie lies over the sea_

_My Bonnie lies over the ocean_

_Oh bring back my Bonnie to me_

_Bring back, bring back_

_Oh Bring back my Bonnie to me, to me_

_Bring back, bring back_

_Oh Bring back my Bonnie to me_

_Last night as I lay on my pillow_

_Last night as I lay on my bed_

_Last night as I lay on my pillow_

_I dreamed that my Bonnie was dead_

_Bring back, bring back_

_Oh Bring back my Bonnie to me, to me_

_Bring back, bring back_

_Oh Bring back my Bonnie to me_

_Oh blow ye winds o'er the ocean_

_And blow ye winds o'er the sea_

_Oh blow ye winds o'er the ocean_

_And bring back my Bonnie to me_

_Bring back, bring back_

_Oh Bring back my Bonnie to me, to me_

_Bring back, bring back_

_Oh Bring back my Bonnie to me_

_The winds have blown over the ocean_

_The winds have blown over the sea_

_The winds have blown over the ocean_

_And brought back my Bonnie to me_

_Bring back, bring back_

_Oh Bring back my Bonnie to me, to me_

_Bring back, bring back_

_Oh Bring back my Bonnie to me."_

She let her fingers grow still as the song ended, and reality came rushing back towards her. The sailors applauded, and she noticed that one or two of them were teary-eyed. Well, it _was_ the equivalent of a sailor's love song, and no doubt many of these men had loved ones in some port or other. She handed the mandolin back to Ashen, and allowed him to give her a hand down from the table. Ignoring cries of 'encore', she made her way to the bar and managed to convey to Duncan that she was going to bed.

Taking a last look around the common room, she spied her friends; Khelgar had progressed from arm-wrestling to punching. She was surprised it had taken him so long. Neeshka was still playing coy with the sailor talking to her, and Elanee still looked like a lost sheep. An indignant squeal told how Qara was faring, and Kail smiled to herself as she left the room. _Welcome to the real world, Princess,_ she thought.

When she got to her bedroom she locked the door and flopped onto the bed without even undressing. And there, thoroughly exhausted from the weeks of travel, the nightmare of the previous night, the events of the day, and all the ale she had drunk whilst performing, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	16. The Name of the Game

_16. The Name of the Game_

Kail leant forward over her bent knee, touching her shin with her forehead and the floor with her hands, her other leg stretched out behind her. It was a cool morning; the air did not yet taste of the sharp tang of approaching winter, but it was not as warm as it would have been this early in high summer. Still, the birds were calling and the sun was shining, and she felt pleasantly relaxed.

Instinct and fast reflexes saved her from injury. She pushed her weight forward, rolling over her shoulder and coming to a stand, drawing both of her daggers and settling into a ready stance. An arrow stuck out from the dirt floor, the shaft quivering with the force of the impact. If she hadn't moved, hadn't rolled, it would have grazed her heel. Not a lethal or even crippling blow, but it would have been painful until healed. She followed the arrow's trajectory to a shape in the shadow of the tavern, and Bishop stepped out, letting go of his bowstring.

"Just keeping you on your toes, bard," he said, then sauntered to one of the aging wooden garden chairs, sitting back with Karnwyr by his feet. Neeshka raised an eyebrow at her, and Khelgar gave the arrow shaft a disgusted glance before mumbling a Dwarf curse under his breath. Kail shrugged at her friends, and the Tiefling grinned. As she resumed her stretching, it struck her as amusing that they had come to a sort of personalised, private language consisting of minor gestures and mumbled Dwarven curses. 'What was that all about?' Neeshka had asked. 'I have no idea. Maybe he woke up on the wrong side of a sailor's bed,' said the shrug. The mumbled Dwarven curse said 'Somebody needs to put that ranger in his place. Maybe I'll do it after this bloody exercising.'

She and Neeshka had talked Khelgar into some exercise and combat practise, and she suspected he was now deeply regretting agreeing to train with them. From what she had heard, the drunken revelry had continued into the wee hours of the morning, until Duncan had finally kicked the sailors out of the Flagon and had Sal drag the unconscious Khelgar to the Dwarf's bedroom. She and the thief had found him dumped unceremoniously on the floor in the middle of the room. Now, rolling her shoulders, she turned to Khelgar.

"Do you want to fight first, or second?" she asked him as she practised pulling her daggers from her belt and sheathing them as quickly as possible. Khelgar, perspiration already coating his face, grunted dismissively.

"Bah, you girls have yer fun. I think the Elf's got the right of it. I'm going to join her. Lie back and close my eyes and... meditate fer a bit. That's just what I be needing before this big mission later today, I think." He waved her away and walked to the grassy ground where Elanee was sat cross-legged with her eyes closed in silent meditation. Khelgar lay beside her, and after only a few seconds was snoring loudly.

"Looks like it's you and me, thief," she said, turning to face Neeshka.

"By the time I'm through with you, swamp farmer, you're going to wish you were fighting moss-breath," the Tiefling grinned wickedly.

"Is that so, you little Dwarf-lover?" Taunting each other whilst practising was now a tradition between them. Both knew that there was no harm in it, and they didn't let it happen outside of the training, for which she was eternally grateful. There was already more than enough bickering within the party.

She watched Neeshka bend her knees and loosen her arms, crouching slightly to lower her centre of gravity. The Tiefling had learnt, during one of their very first sessions, that Kail was not averted to using a taller opponent's height against them, and she had gone toppling to the ground more than once before taking the lesson to heart. From the corner of her eye, Kail caught movement, and turned her head to see street children approaching the clearing and settling in to watch. Some of them sat on the floor, whilst others sprang onto the rickety tethering rail.

One of the children waved to her, and she recognised the girl as an urchin she had helped the previous day. The girl had lifted a purse from a noble in the street under the guise of frolicking, but a second noble had collared her and demanded that she turn out her pockets. Kail, passing with her friends, had pretended to be the girl's mother. The way she saw it, the girl wouldn't have stolen unless she was desperate, and if nobles were stupid enough to leave their coin purses in places where they were easily picked, well, they deserved it. Call it survival of the fittest. She smiled to herself as Neeshka circled. _The nobleman was a good performance._

Duncan had granted them permission to use this space, outside the back of the Flagon, for their practise. The ground had been worn bare from years of horse traffic, though nobody residing in the Flagon at the moment possessed a mount. The bare ground made for a suitable fighting area, and Elanee had quickly claimed one of the untouched areas of grass not far away for her own meditations. Drawing her attention away from the children, she glanced to the garden chair in the shadows. Bishop was still sitting there, but his eyes were watching Elanee, so she didn't give him a second thought, and soon her attention was taken up with grappling with Neeshka.

By the end of the first round, Neeshka had been thrown twice, and Kail three times. They always fought the same way; first with some unarmed wrestling, trying to throw each other to the ground, and then with weapons. And now, for the weapons round, Neeshka took out a short-sword whilst Kail flourished her daggers. But this was not the time for showy tricks; the thief would not be intimidated. Besides, this was only practise.

_It's too bad Lucas never met Neeshka,_ she thought, parrying another swing from the other woman's sword. _He would have loved to have taught her. _Lucas appreciated a quick mind and a quick pair of hands, and the Tiefling was as quick as they came. _I wonder where he is now. I wish he'd tell me where he goes when he runs off for adventures for months at a time. I certainly don't believe his wild tales about the Anauroch. That's too unbelievable, even for him._ She hissed in pain as Neeshka's sword cut across the arm of her shirt, slicing her skin.

"That's another shirt you owe me, tail-for-brains," she said. Luckily it was one of her old 'farmer' shirts, as Neeshka called them.

"Aw, it can be mended easily enough," said Neeshka. "Do you want to stop to heal your arm before we continue?"

"No. I was stupid and I wasn't concentrating. Let my pain be a lesson," she replied. _Don't be afraid of pain. Pain teaches us that we have made a mistake. It is how we recognise our failures. It is a valuable lesson. _Lucas again, pragmatic as ever. Most bards, he told her, went through life living for songs and knowledge and fame. And whilst they were undeniably very important, **he** sought to use songs and knowledge for a greater purpose; staying alive. He pushed fatalistic thinking to an art form. _Sometimes the Gods deal you a bad hand. Sometimes you find yourself in a bad situation. If you can't find an immediate way out of it, don't complain about it or lament your bad fortune; deal with it, and deal with it quickly._ _Then move on._ It was hardly surprising that he and Daeghun were close friends.

The sun was a little higher, the air a little warmer, when they finally stopped to rest. Both women had a sheen of perspiration on their faces, and Kail finally decided she'd learnt her lesson, and chanted a light healing spell to heal the scrape on her arm. Blood had soaked into the material of her shirt, and she tsked in frustration. Blood was hard to get out of clothes.

"As _amusing_ as it is to see you two little wildcats tussle, I think it's time somebody gave the bard here a more challenging opponent," said Bishop, walking upto them as he turned a knife over itself in his hands.

"You want to practise fighting?" she asked, a slight hint of surprise in her voice.

"Practise? Hmm, _yes_. I suppose I could do that. Unless you're afraid to fight someone who won't go as easy on you as the Tiefling did," he said with a condescending sneer. She gave him an unimpressed quirk of an eyebrow and gestured to the opposite side of the dirt training area, then shrugged at Neeshka's questioning glance as Bishop trod quietly away. Neeshka shrugged back -- 'Oh well' in their private language -- and went to sit beside Elanee and the still-dozing Khelgar.

Kail turned her attention to the ranger, who sheathed his knife in the scabbard on his belt and sank into a crouch. Puzzled, she did the same, squatting onto her heels and balancing her weight on her toes. She let her fingers trail on the ground beneath her, to balance her weight, and then settled in to wait to see what he would do next.

o - o - o - o - o

Duncan looked up from the bar and watched his niece's three friends file in. They weren't a bad bunch, really, considering that the Tiefling was a thief and the Dwarf had probably been sent from a tavern-keeper's hell as punishment for a prior transgression. Still, they seemed to care about Kail, which made them alright in his book. It was hard to believe that his niece was so grown up. Had it really been twenty-three years since he had last seen her? Twenty-three years since that one fateful night in West Harbor... He shook his head at his own musings. Well of course babies grew up. He was just pleased that she'd grown up into such a beautiful, down to earth young woman.

"How did the training go?" he asked them.

"It would have gone better if some of us weren't hungover," said Neeshka, rolling her eyes at Khelgar.

"Bah, you two had fun without me," he said with a wave of his hand.

"And I had a pleasant and relaxing meditation," said Elanee. "With all that has happened, I'd forgotten how calming it can be to merely sit and listen to the sounds all around us."

"Right, right," said Duncan. Druids. They were all the same. Balance this, and land that. "That niece of mine is still cooling down, I suppose?" He hoped she wouldn't be too much longer. He wanted to talk to her about her performance last night. If she could bring in a crowd like that after only a single day here... well, word spread, especially amongst sailors. And maybe she could play some non-naval songs, to encourage more citizens of Neverwinter to stop by. The entire Docks had fallen on hard times, since Moire and her gang had decided to seize control, and he knew he wasn't the only innkeeper struggling to make ends meet.

"No, she's still fighting," said Khelgar, and he sounded slightly disgusted. "If ye can call it that. I certainly wouldn't."

"Fighting, eh? Who with?"

"With that ranger," said Neeshka. Duncan felt his blood run cold.

"What? You let her fight him? Why in the nine hells would you let her do something like that?!" he demanded, throwing his rag down onto the bar.

"Ehh... lad. I know ye've not seen the lass in quite a few years, and she's probably changed quite a bit since ye last saw her in swaddling, but ye don't tell the her what to do. Not unless ye want the glaring of a lifetime."

"What Khelgar means to say," said Elanee, "is that Kail is as stubborn and mule-headed as your typical Harborman. Tell her not to jump through a ring of fire, and she'll do it just to prove she can."

"Besides, it's hardly fighting," Neeshka added. "They're just sat out there having some sort of boring staring contest. Really. They've been at it for an _hour_ already. So we decided to come in, freshen up, and have something to eat."

"Well I want you to go back out there and bring her in right away," said Duncan to Elanee. The Elf gave him an amused, aloof stare.

"I believe doing that would be more than my life is worth," she said, and stepped away to sit at their now-regular table.

"Yeah, I mean, we _could_ go out there, pick her up, and carry her back in, but she would totally disown us. Trust me, once she's got her heels in, there's no arguing with her," said Neeshka, and joined Elanee at the table.

"Don't worry, lad. She can take care of herself. The Gods know, she takes care of us too. I sure would like to meet this Lucas fellow who's taught her so much," said Khelgar.

"Lucas? **The** Lucas?" asked Duncan. "Old man, sings songs, talks too much?"

"Heh, well, I dunno. We've never seen him, but that sounds about right. Yer niece sure seems to admire him, though, and I'll admit, she's more than handy in a fight. Ye know the man?"

"Oh, I know him alright," said Duncan, narrowing his eyes slightly. "He's a scoundrel and a rogue... but I'll admit, he's no fool." And he should've seen it before. How she casually confronted him about the crow and the shards on the day she arrived in the tavern, the way she moved with confidence and sureness, as if she was waiting for the entire world to test her, and knew it wouldn't find her lacking... no typical farmer lass would move like that, not even one from West Harbor. If Lucas had been teaching her to fight, that was all for the better. But if she had adopted some of the old bard's more... radical... outlooks on life... well, he could be in for a problem.

Pulling up a seat, he joined Kail's friends at their table, gesturing for Sal to bring them food and drinks. "Tell me a little more about my niece," he said.

o - o - o - o - o

Khelgar leaned back in his chair, letting the food settle in his belly. Duncan was still questioning them -- no, interrogating them! -- about Kail, and asking the strangest of questions. Did she ever cheat at cards? Did she throw herself unnecessarily into combat? Did she offer prayers for the dead? Did she ever intentionally hurt herself? Was she too eager to take life? Had she ever hurt anybody who didn't deserve it? Bah, the innkeeper was mad, and Khelgar told him so.

Elanee and Neeshka... strange, how he had come to think of them by their names, rather than 'the tree-worshipper' and 'the Tiefling'... were still answering Duncan's questions, but Khelgar let their voices drone through his mind as he thought back to his visit to the Temple of Tyr yesterday. He had been so mad at that bloody priest that he wanted to fight the man there and then! Imagine, accusing an Ironfist of harming his kin. And **him**, of all Ironfists! The man obviously didn't know his Dwarves. Khelgar Ironfist was no betrayer of kin!

And that was only the first of the so-called 'trials' he had to face. How he was supposed to discover _when_ to fight, and _why_, was beyond him. As far as he was concerned, you fought whenever some fool pulled a knife on you, or insulted your clan's honour! And of course, you fought for the sheer fun of brawling. Still, maybe Kail was onto something. She'd tried to tell him, a couple of weeks ago, that there was more to fighting than fighting, that half of fighting was knowing when_ not_ to fight. It sounded like one of those crazy bard logic puzzles to him. Besides, she wasn't in the best position to talk like that, not when she she met every challenge like some half-crazed demon woman. Even the blasted Tiefling, who actually _had_ demon blood in her, didn't go that far

Bah! He wouldn't be surprised if this was some sort of conspiracy to keep Dwarves from becoming monks. Well, if they though Khelgar Ironfist would be so easily dissuaded, they could think again. By Tyr's right buttock, he would pass their crazy trials, and show them all just what a determined Dwarf could do!

o - o - o - o - o

Neeshka smiled and nodded at Duncan, barely paying attention to his words. Gods, the man could talk! If he was so interested in his niece, why didn't he talk to her himself? It wasn't _their_ place to tell Kail's secrets, and she answered Duncan's questions as evasively as possible. That would teach the man to ask questions behind people's backs. Kail was the closest thing she'd ever had to a friend, and she wouldn't ruin that, not after everything the bard had done for her.

Almost absently, she flipped the plundered coin over her knuckles, as Kail often did with her throwing knives, then smiled at herself as she realised what she was doing. _So, think you can steal from me, do you Leldon? Well we showed you. Now who's laughing, huh? _She was, obviously. And hopefully Leldon would stay out of her way from now on, and she could concentrate on finding new marks.

She'd been gone from Neverwinter for too long. Almost a year, since that incident with Leldon. She had snuck out of the tavern during their first night here, tried to sniff out some of her old contacts, without much success. Of the fences she knew, only one would speak to her, but he wouldn't deal with her. He was too tightly wrapped around Moire's thumb. Of her fellow thieves there was no sign, but she'd heard, through unofficial channels, that most of them had departed for greener, less blood-soaked pastures, or had been snapped up by Leldon.

Her old partner was lucky. He kept most of his operations confined to the Merchant district, and to Blacklake. Working the Docks would mean stepping on the toes of Moire, and the woman was merciless. It was a shame that hadn't happened, since Leldon didn't have the sheer manpower that Moire had, but hey, you couldn't win them all, right? For now, Moire would be dealt with in a lawful capacity. And if Leldon came after her again... she smiled, and rubbed her lucky coin. Well, she would just deal with him too.

o - o - o - o - o

Elanee sighed, and gave Duncan another vague, non-committal answer. No, she hadn't been travelling with Kail for as long as Khelgar and Neeshka, so she didn't know the young woman as well as the other two. Yes, she approved of most of Kail's actions, and didn't see any cause for serious concern. No, she was usually a well-balanced indivdual, though she did have a dark sense of humour. No, that wasn't anything to worry about either.

Were all family relatives this... inquisitive? And defensive of their kin? Honestly, she didn't know. The Circle had been her family for as long as she could remember -- since that day when the orcs poured into Merdelain from the north, slaughtering all that stood in their path. Since that day when her father had fallen to their crude weapons, and the Mere had claimed his body, along with the rest.

She supposed she could empathise with Duncan... a little. She, too, worried about Kail at times. And maybe Duncan's fears about her spending any amount of time with the ranger were justified. She did not trust that man. The wolf, loyal to his Human companion, would not talk to her. She didn't trust any animal that wouldn't talk to her, either.

It had been a surprise to learn that Duncan knew Lucas, though perhaps not entirely unexpected. Daeghun and Duncan were brothers. If Duncan knew Esmerelle, who had travelled with Daeghun during their adventuring days, it was only logical that he would know Lucas as well. What was amusing, and slightly disturbing, was that the innkeeper seemed to strongly disapprove of the old man. From what she had seen of Lucas, he seemed harmless enough, and genuinely interested in teaching Kail. So was it the man, or his methods, which Duncan disapproved of?

Maybe it was both. Daeghun approved of Lucas, of that much she was sure. Otherwise he would never have asked the old bard to train his daughter, or he would have put a stop to it early on. She was coming to learn that Daeghun and Duncan were very different people. She had never spoken to Kail's foster father, of course, but she had watched him, and his daughter, for a long time. He was the source of most of the young woman's straight-forward pragmatism. He taught his daughter to be practical, rather than whimscal, to recognise what was important, and to not be deceived by the senses. Lucas expanded on that, teaching her to look beyond what she saw, to look deeper, to see motives, meanings, and to discern answers logically, as if piecing together a puzzle.

Elanee did not believe in coincidences. Kail. Daeghun. Duncan. Lucas. The shards. The Mere. They were tied together somehow, she was sure of it. And she would find out what linked them no matter the cost.

o - o - o - o - o

The others would not understand. Elanee understood little but the land, little but the Mere. Neeshka lived for the next mark, the next job, the next purse of coins to spend, for the reputation that came with being Neverwinter's finest thief. Khelgar's priority was fighting the physical fights, fighting that which he could see, which he could punch. But this was a different fight. It was not a fight, it was a game. It was both a fight _and_ a game, and the name of this game was patience.

The children had left long ago. They came to watch the practising, the fighting. They came to watch her and Neeshka take swipes at each other. They didn't come to see her crouch in the dirt for three hours staring at the most pig-headed chauvinistic man in Neverwinter.

She tensed and relaxed the muscles in her legs, working her way up her body, finally rolling her shoulders and her neck. It wouldn't do to let her body stiffen in this pose. Yes, the game was patience, but she wasn't _entirely_ convinced that he wouldn't attack when she least expected it. _Expect the unexpected. Expect that the Gods will drop a house on you the next time you turn a corner. Some of them probably would._

For three hours he had crouched there staring at her without saying a single word. And for three hours she had crouched there returning his stare equally as silently. Many people would find it hard to go for three hours without speaking, especially with someone staring at them so... intently. In fact, she had to admit that she was finding it hard to keep back one of the many witty comments that her mind had brought up as she crouched there in the dirt. But if he thought she would be easily bored, and give up, he would be sadly mistake. Halfway between them, and off to one side, Karnwyr lay panting in the sun, a lupine referee to the world's most drawn-out fight.

It wasn't just a fight, though, and it wasn't just a game. It was also a mystery. And so, as she crouched there in the dirt, sheer stubbornness preventing her from getting up and walking away, she considered the mystery at hand. _A mystery is a story, and a story is a mystery. Most people think that stories are made of three parts; a beginning, a middle, and an end. Some stories are, but they're the boring stories, the ones where the valiant knight slays the terrible dragon and rescues the beautiful maiden from certain doom. That story is old, and about as interesting as watching a tree grow. Consider instead that a story is not made out of three separate pieces, but of six; __**Who**__ is the story about? __**What**__ is the person doing, or what is the theme of the story? __**When**__ does the story take place? __**Where**__ do the events occur? __**What**__ are the actual events surrounding the person and the story? __**Why**__ do these events happen? __**How**__ does the story unfold, and how does the person react to all of the other constituents?_ All as per her mentor, of course.

Most of them were pretty straight-forward, in this case. Who? _Me and the ranger._ What? _Playing a game of patience. More than that. Testing. Each other? Our own wills? Worth thinking about further. _When? _Right now. _Where?_ Outside the Flagon. _How? _By sitting in the dirt staring at each other._ Why? That was a good question. So far she had come up with several different answers.

Bishop hated Duncan. She could see that clearly, and he made no attempt to hide it. It wasn't the same childish hatred that she had for the Mossfelds in West Harbor, which was the type of hatred carefully nurtured through adolescence, until eventually it simmered to something more like comfortable disdain. No, he _hated_ Duncan. He would kill her uncle without a second thought, but something held him back. So he was doing this as a way to get at Duncan.

Or. He was testing her. Trying to see how far she would go to win a challenge. Trying to push her to her limits, to see just what those limits _were_. It was likely, but it still left the 'why'. He could easily be doing this with Neeshka, or Khelgar, or even Elanee. So maybe it _was_ because of her tie to Duncan. Or maybe it was something else. Something simpler; she had challenged him. Georg had warned her that her 'do your best' attitude would get her into trouble, and on her first day in the Flagon Bishop had insulted her, and she had insulted him back and then walked away. So this might be an old fight being continued. Same war, different battleground.

Or. He was testing her in another way. He had to know that she would be leaving soon, on the mission for Brelaina to stop the weapons from reaching Moire. She and her friends had discussed it quietly in the Flagon earlier, and she was willing to bet that he had overheard at least some of the conversation. Maybe he was trying to see _just_ how fine she would cut it, just how much time she would leave herself, and if she was willing to forsake duty to settle a personal grudge. Well, she would stay for as long as possible. Neeshka, as she was returning into the Flagon with the others, had patted her shoulder. That, in their personal language, meant 'We'll come and get you when it's time to go'.

Was that why he had picked today to start this little... game? If he had challenged her on a day when she had no duty to perform, would she still be crouching in the dust come suppertime? _You're damn right I would. You think you know patience? You don't know patience until you've gone hunting with Wild Elves. Spending a night in an uncomfortable position without any sleep or protection from the elements? Ha! Bring it on._

The wind shifted, and a mercifully cool breeze blew across her glistening skin. But the ranger tore his gaze away from her, his head snapping to the trees on his right, and at the same time Karnwyr let out a growl, his hackles rising. For the second time that day her instincts kicked in, and she rolled forward, jarring her shoulder slightly on the hard ground, slipping both daggers into her hands as she rolled to her feet. She heard something hit the ground where she had just been crouched, caught a flash of movement in the trees, and then she was off.

_Look at me_, she thought, covering the bare ground to the light wooded area and dodging trees and shrubs. _I see something run, and I chase. I'm a proper Watch-hound now._ The person running in front of her stopped suddenly and drew a dagger. The man, approaching middle-age and balding, didn't make a sound as he swiped at her throat, and she stepped back just in time. In the heat of the chase she had almost forgotten about her own weapons in her hands, but now she used them, parrying his blows and slashing in return. She was able to breach his defences several times, and felt her daggers hit their mark more than once, but he also managed to slip past her guard, and his knife sliced her forehead above her right eyebrow. Any lower and she would have been blinded.

Ignoring the blood that dripped from her head, and the anger that was building inside, burning her chest, her heart, she aimed a low kick at the man's groin. He doubled over in agony and when she plunged both of her daggers into his neck, he crumpled to the ground. Then she cleaned her daggers on the man's dirt-stained clothing and examined his body. Not far away was a crossbow which he had probably used to shoot at her, and then thrown down when he realised it was going to come to hand-to-hand combat. Other than that, and the knife, he had no weapons, no jewelry, no coin, and apart from a few scars, no identifying marks. In hindsight, she wished she'd kept him alive for questioning.

Returning to the clearing behind the Flagon, she discovered Bishop examining the bolt from the ground. She lifted up the crossbow and knife, then dumped them by his feet.

"Friend of yours?" she asked.

"From what I hear, _you're_ the one going around making 'friends' in this district. What do you expect if you cross gangs of organised criminals, a fruit basket and a 'thank you' note? Besides, if I wanted you dead, you would already be dead, and I wouldn't have gotten somebody else to do it. The man was clearly incompetent."

"You missed me as well," she pointed out.

"But I wasn't aiming for your head. Not that time, at least. Next time, who knows?" He handed the bolt to her. "Here, a souvenir of your ordeal. And if you don't mind, I'd prefer it if you wouldn't bleed all over me." She raised her hand to her head, and felt a stab of pain above her eye. Though it stung, she guessed it wasn't too deep, but head wounds always bled a lot.

"Bastard," she said. "Not you. Him. Ruining my concentration just as I was beginning to have fun." He snorted in disbelief.

"If you ask me it serves you right for sticking your Harborman nose into city-folk business. These aren't pig-stealing farmers you're dealing with now, little wildcat, they're cut-throats and murderers. The type of folk little village people like you only see in your nightmares."

"You wouldn't be saying that if you had seen my nightmares," she said calmly, then picked up the crossbow and knife. Maybe Duncan could use them for wall decorations. Add them to his collection, or something.

"Speaking of nightmares, you're not planning on singing again tonight, are you?" he asked, following her back toward the tavern.

"Haven't decided yet. Why?"

"Well, I just thought I might teach you a new song first." He stepped in front of her and put his arm across the doorway, blocking her path, then gave her a suggestive smile. "It's called 'I know what rangers like', and it comes with a demonstration."

"As much as I value knowledge, I think that's one thing I'd rather _not_ know," she smiled sweetly. "And if you don't mind, I'd prefer it if you wouldn't stand in the way of my bleeding." He chuckled and lowered his arm, forcing her to brush past him to enter. She had to restrain the urge to elbow him as she did so.

"Kail! By the gods, what have you done to my niece?" demanded Duncan as he caught sight of her.

"Not guilty... this time," Bishop sneered.

"Duncan, it was one of one of Moire's men," she said quickly. _Am I doomed to be the peace-keeper wherever I go?_

"Moire!? That wench has got some nerve, trying to kill my kin outside my tavern! Can you heal yourself, lass?" She shook her head, and regretted it when drops of blood landed on her shirt.

"No, I've already had to heal myself once today. A cut from Neeshka," she said before Duncan could upbraid the ranger. "Where's Elanee?"

"Your friends are in their rooms, getting ready for this mission of yours. I think they're welding Khelgar into his new armour," said Duncan. She nodded, dumped the weapons into his arms, and walked towards the back rooms.

"Kail, lass? What are you going to do about Moire?" She took in her uncle's worried expression, and Bishop's blank, assessing stare. Then she shrugged.

"I'm going to hunt the bitch down, drag her kicking and screaming to the Watch House, and see her lifeless body swing from the gallows whilst my crow feeds on her remains." Then she turned into the corridor to seek out her companions.


	17. One of Nine

_17. One of Nine_

From the shadows of a building Kail looked at the group of men stood blocking their path. Half of them were street thugs, typical of those in Moire's employ. The other half wore uniforms of blue and white. They were Watchmen. Turncoats. Traitors. And there were too many to fight through.

"Why don't ye go and play them a song, lass? Sure made those sailors happy last night. If ye can get them singing and dancing and drinking, the rest of us can sneak past."

"They don't seem to be in much of a singing mood," she replied. "Hmm. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm actually getting bored of fighting these goons. Let's see if we can do something a little... wilder. Flashier. Suggestions?"

"We could strip Khelgar to his breeches, set his beard on fire, and send him running out there to distract them," said Neeshka, a look of pure innocence on her face.

"Actually, that's not such a bad idea," said Elanee. "The fire, I mean. I could start a small blaze in one of these old buildings, and confine it so that it doesn't spread. The Watchmen may leave to deal with it, and then we'll only have to deal with those others."

"Alright, but keep it under control. I don't want to pull a Moire and risk burning down the entire docks." She watched as Elanee slunk off and disappeared into an open doorway. Thankfully, most of the houses in the Back Alley had long since been abandoned, and now stood as derelict reminders of the city's plague and war-decreased population. Within moments she smelt smoke, and noticed an orange glow spring up inside the windows of the house.

"Fire! Fire!" Elanee called loudly. "Somebody please help me!" As the Elf crept back to the group, Kail turned her attention to the men on the street. There was a brief argument, and then the Watchmen ran off in the direction of the blaze.

"That should keep them occupied for a few moments," said Elanee, "but we had best deal with the rest of them quickly."

"Couldn't you have made it a little bigger?"

"You were the one who didn't want the entire Docks district burning down," said Elanee factually.

"I don't see why we didn't just fight 'em all!" said Khelgar.

"Because if their skulls are as thick as yours it could've taken too long, moss-breath," said Neeshka. Kail rolled her eyes, and nudged the Dwarf towards the thugs.

Less than half an hour later they stood clustered in another patch of shadows, watching another mixed group of Watchmen and thieves. But this group were surrounding something that was of more interest; a cart. A big, armoured cart. Undoubtedly the weapons cache intended for Moire.

"Sure are a lot of them," said Khelgar. "Turncoats seem to be out in force tonight."

"I think we're in need of another distraction," she agreed.

"I think I can arrange that," said Elanee.

"I'm not sure you should do your lightning thing with old these old, dry timber buildings around," she said doubtfully.

"I was not planning on calling lightning, but I do have another idea. I can sneak around the back of the cart, and if you are willing to wait for my signal to attack them, I think we might have the advantage," said the druid. Kail nodded, and the woman crept off with Naloch behind her.

"So what do you think the lass has planned?" asked Khelgar quietly.

"Maybe she's going to flirt suggestively with them," Neeshka snickered.

"Shh!" she warned them both. "I don't know. We'll just have to wait and see." They did not have to wait long. In only a few short moments two shapes shambled out from the shadows behind the men guarding the cart. The smallest one was Naloch, and the huge mound beside it was... an enormous brown bear! It reared on its hind legs and swiped its massive paws at two of the men, catching them off guard and killing them instantly. "I think that's our cue!" said Kail, and sprang forward after Khelgar as Neeshka sniped at the thieves.

The battle did not go as well as she had hoped for. She soon ran out of throwing knives, and had to resort to close combat early on in the fight. The thieves sniped back at Neeshka, forcing the Tiefling to take shelter in a building, rendering her ineffective. Though Elanee mowed through the enemy, she did not do so unscathed. She took several arrows, which stuck out like pins from her massive bear hide. The only advantage they seemed to have was that Khelgar's new armour stood up to the test of combat, effectively turning all arrows shot at him, and deflecting most of the blows from hand weapons.

Eventually, though, the thieves fell, as did the traitor Watch members. Neeshka left the confines of the house, and Elanee sank onto the ground beside the cart. Kail hurried over to her friend, with Khelgar close behind.

"That was a really stupid plan, Elanee," she said. The bear merely gave her an agonised stare. "Damn it, I've already used up my healing spell for the day. Does anybody have a potion?"

"Here," said Neeshka, holding out a bottle of blue liquid. "It's only a light one, but it's the only one I have."

"Thanks," she nodded at the Tiefling. "Can you collect my throwing knives while Khelgar and I see to Elanee?" Without waiting for an answer she turned to address the bear. "Elanee, we have a healing potion for you, but I'm going to have to cut the arrows out before you drink it. And I think it would be better if I did that before you shift out of bear form. Do you understand?" The bear gave a small nod.

Taking out one of her daggers, she carefully prised open the skin around the first arrow, and worked it slowly loose. Elanee roared in pain, but managed to lie still. She handed the first bloody arrow to Khelgar, who dropped it on the ground. It was slow work, not made easier by the masses of fur she had to cut through to find the entry points, but eventually she was able to remove all of the arrows, twelve in total. Then she opened the bottle and held it to the bear's mouth, pouring it down her friend's throat. It seemed to do little to stem the flow of blood.

As they watched, Elanee shifted out of bear form, returning to her own lithe shape. As Kail had expected, there were still gaping wounds in her skin, and her body was soaked red with blood. The Elf's eyelids fluttered, as if she was struggling to stay conscious. Kail grabbed the druid's hands and held them to her slender neck.

"Elanee!" she said, waiting for the woman's lids to flicker again. "Elanee. Heal yourself. Say the words for the spell. It has to be you. I can't say them for you." It took her a few moments to understand, but eventually she was able to breathlessly whisper the words, and the pair of women were surrounded by the blue glow of healing magic. Taxed by her injuries and the effort of healing herself, Elanee collapsed unconscious in Kail's arms. Khelgar helped to haul the Elven woman from the floor.

"If you two want to take the cart to Brelaina, I'll carry Elanee back to the Flagon," she said as she stood.

"Hah. You, a lass marked for death by the most cold-hearted criminal leader in the city, carry an unconscious druid through the streets? Not on yer life," said Khelgar. "We'll put the Elf on the cart, drop it off at the Watch House which is close by, then take the tree-worshipper back to the Flagon."

"Khelgar's right," said Neeshka. "You can't go anywhere alone. None of us can, at least not openly. We're probably all marked. Besides, I think her wounds are mostly healed now. All she needs is some sleep, and when she wakes up she can heal herself again. Or you can do it tomorrow."

"Alright," she agreed, and helped Khelgar to gently lift Elanee onto the cart. "Khelgar, you push, I'll steer, and Neeshka, you keep an arrow ready in case anybody has plans to take this back from us."

o - o - o - o - o

"Duncan, can you fetch me a bowl of warm water, a clean cloth, and a fresh blanket?" Kail called as she opened the door of the Flagon. Khelgar, carrying Elanee in his arms, immediately took the Elf through to her bedroom, and Duncan jumped to life behind the bar.

"What happened, lass?"

"I'll tell you about it when I've seen to Elanee," she replied, and followed the Dwarf into the corridor. They placed Elanee gently on her bed, then she and Neeshka began removing her blood-soaked leather armour. "Go and get cleaned up, Khelgar," she said. "We're going out again after this."

"Brelaina's given us another mission?" he asked in surprise. Both he and Neeshka had remained outside the Watch House guarding the cart, and the Elf, as Kail reported their success to Brelaina who had then sent Watchmen to relieve them of the cart.

"Yes, and attractive as your armour is drenched in Elf blood, I think it would be better if you cleaned it off." He grumbled an oath under his breath -- he had taught her enough Dwarvish that she recognised the words 'bloody' and 'thieves' -- and left them to undress Elanee. Duncan showed up a moment later with the things she had requested, but she shooed him away before he could start asking questions. Then she and Neeshka washed the blood from Elanee's skin, bandaged her remaining wounds -- thankfully they were few and only very minor -- and then covered her with a clean blanket before returning to the common room.

"Khelgar was just telling me how your mission went," said Duncan. He offered her a tankard of ale but she shook her head. She wanted to keep a a clear mind.

"I think we need to get her some better armour," she said to her friends.

"Says the lass who refuses to wear even the thinnest of leathers," grunted Khelgar.

"It would only hinder me."

"What's this new mission?" Neeshka asked, sitting on the edge of a nearby table. Kail joined her, nudging the Tiefling over for space.

"Those weapons were being taken to a warehouse that borders both the Back Alley and the Merchant district. We're to raid it, bring in the smugglers if possible, and keep an eye out for anything that might implicate Moire. Cormick also said we might be able to find some usable things in there, and we're welcome to keep anything we think we'll need."

"Perfect. The more I get to know this Cormick of yours, the more I'm liking him. I had my doubts at first," grinned Neeshka.

"Couldn't this have waited until tomorrow?" asked Khelgar. "At least the Elf will be healed then." Kail shook her head.

"No, I'm afraid Elanee will just have to sit this one out. Brelaina wants the raid done yesterday. She's had word that one of the Nine, whoever they are, is going to be leading a search on the warehouse with a few soldiers, and she wants the job done before that happens to prove the competency of the City Watch. We'll just have to be extra careful now that we're one man down."

"I'll go with you," said Qara from nearby, causing Kail to almost fall off the table in surprise.

"_You_? You want to help us?" she asked incredulously.

"Help you? No, not really" sniffed Qara. "But from what I've heard from listening to the walking ale devourer here, you seem to get into an awful lot of fights, and lately I haven't been getting the practise that I need. Besides, raiding a warehouse full of hostile thugs has _got_ to be more interesting than wiping tables and serving drinks to the same three people over and over again."

_No,_ screamed a part of Kail's mind. _Don't let her come, keep her away, she's dangerous._ But another part said: _She's useful. Use her. The more who fight, the greater the chances of success, and the faster the mission is completed. The sooner these missions are out of the way, the sooner you'll be able to see Aldanon, and the sooner you'll be able to forget about the shards and the city. You can go home._

"Alright. But the warehouse needs to remain intact. I don't want you burning it down. Do you think you can control yourself, and avoid torching the place?" she asked. The sorceress narrowed her eyes.

"I will manage just fine," she snapped.

"Good. Take off that apron and grab a weapon. We have a warehouse to raid."

o - o - o - o - o

Kail sat at the desk and looked at the pile of papers. There were rows and columns, filled with numbers and letters, and it was all totally indecipherable. The wisest loremasters, the eldest sages, and most learned wizards in all of Faerûn would have difficulty understanding the basic nature of the reports. They had passed out of the comprehension of mortal man, and into the realm of something even more frightening than the monsters that lived under the beds of every child with an active imagination; accountancy.

"What're ye looking for, lass?" asked Khelgar.

"I have no idea," she admitted, then started stacking the papers up into a neat pile. "I'll just take it all to Brelaina. Maybe she has somebody who can make sense out of all of this."

"Hey, look what I found," said Neeshka, returning from a search of the now-empty warehouse. Unsurprisingly, the thieves and smugglers had not been cooperative. On the positive side, the warehouse was still standing, and Qara looked decidedly smug. The Tiefling held up a greatsword.

"Let me see," she said, holding out her hands for the weapon. She examined it closely, running her hands over the hilt and the blade, hefting it and giving it an experimental swing or two. It was pretty heavy. She couldn't understand why anybody would choose such a cumbersome weapon. Still, it was a very fine specimen, a lot better than an average greatsword. Closing her eyes and humming to herself, she tried to listen to the voice of the weapon. _Everything has a song, if you know how to listen for it._ "Shining Light of Lathander," she said at last, handing the weapon back to Neeshka. "It's worth a fair bit. Why don't you sell it?"

"Really? I can do that?" the thief asked, her eyes shining.

"Of course. We don't need it, and it would only collect dust on Duncan's wall."

"Well... you keep it for now," said Neeshka. "Think of it as an investment. That way if you need to raise some quick cash in the future, you can sell it."

"If the pair of ye are done with yer thieving, can we be getting out of here? There's a barrel of ale with my name on it back at the Flagon," said Khelgar.

"And I can barely contain my excitement at the prospect of wiping tables again," Qara added drily. Kail nodded, and followed the Dwarf to the door.

"And I want the archers to secure the perimeter. The rest of us will split into three squads," said an authoritative voice as the companions stepped out of the warehouse into the main street. Kail blinked in surprise at the armoured men stood to attention before she remembered what Brelaina hed said about a pre-organised search on the warehouse by Neverwinter's soldiers. A tiny smile crept onto her lips. They probably wouldn't be happy that they'd been beaten by the Watch.

"What seems to be the problem here?" she asked, slipping into Watchman mode. The man who had been speaking turned to regard her with surprise.

"The city Watch? Commendable of Captain Brelaina to send support, but we have things under control here. You're welcome to observe, of course, but I'd appreciate it if you'd stay out of the way. This mission requires careful co-ordination, and you haven't had the training these men have." She quirked an eyebrow at him.

"I wouldn't underestimate me if I were you... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," she replied.

"My apologies for the reaction. Darmon. _Sir_ Darmon, if you're one of those who believe titles mean anything. We're here on orders from Lord Nasher."

"Indeed? It must be a pretty big operation, to require so many... capable men," she smiled.

"This is a delicate matter that has attracted the attention of Lord Nasher himself," said Darmon airily. Then he grinned. "I'm sorry, that sounded rather pompous, didn't it?"

"Just a tad," she agreed. "Can you at least tell me what you're planning here?"

"Hmm, I suppose you seem sincere enough. We've received word of weapons being smuggled into this district, and have traced their distribution point to this warehouse. Lord Nasher has ordered us to confiscate the weapons and hopefully avoid a street-war in the Docks."

"I'm sorry to have to tell you, but I've already sent the weapons back to Captain Brelaina," she said.

"What? When did this happen? We were told to expect strong opposition!"

"It was nothing we couldn't handle," she said coolly, and for the first time he seemed to see her companions behind her. He snapped his fingers and two of his soldiers ran off towards the warehouse, disappearing through the doorway. They reappeared an instant later and nodded at Darmon.

"Lord Nasher will be most pleased to hear the news. This should help the Watch's position at the next Council meeting. I must confess that there are those of us who were beginning to question the competency of the Watch, and its leadership. I see that I have been mistaken," he said, and she found herself impressed by his willingness to admit he had been wrong. In her experience, most people did not like to admit to their own faults.

"The Watch is here to serve," she said with a cloak-flourishing bow.

"And you've done an admirable job of it here. Well now, it seems the men and I have some time on our hands. Is there a tavern around here that you can recommend?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"The Sunken Flagon is a fine establishment," she said.

"Ah, yes. Duncan's place. It's been a while, thank you." He turned to address his men. "You heard it lads, the Watch has things under control here. Now now, I know what you're thinking; another evening of boredom catering to the lord and ladies at court. Not so. We all need a respite from such _arduous_ duty. Tonight, we'll be reacquainting ourselves with ale, and tavern wenches. To the Sunken Flagon!"

"I am _not_ cleaning the tables after them. I'd sooner torch the place, I'm warning you," said Qara as the men began filing off.

"I think Duncan's going to be quite upset when he sees what's invading his tavern. The old sot's going to have to work tonight," said Darmon, turning to Kail. "Thank you again. You've saved me a lot of trouble, and possibly the lives of many of my men. I shall report the good news to Lord Nasher right away." He gave her a bow, and swept down the street after his men.

"I just hope Duncan doesn't sell all his ale to those lot," complained Khelgar.

"Well, let's get these to Brelaina," she said, hefting the pile of papers. _And hopefully these 'missions' will soon be a thing of the past._


	18. Respite

_18. Respite_

"It was good of Captain Brelaina to give us the rest of the day off," said Khelgar, rolling his shoulders as he led the way into the Flagon.

"It's not as if Kail gave her much of a choice," Neeshka pointed out. "What was it you said, Kail? 'I've just spent the past five hours hacking my way through criminals, almost lost a friend, had one of my new shirts ripped, and I'm not doing any more this evening unless it's accompanied by a _substantial_ payrise'. I thought Brelaina's eyes were going to pop out of her head!"

"It's a pity," said Qara. "I was just getting warmed up when we ran out of people who wanted us dead."

"Ah. There you are, Qara. We've been looking everywhere for you," said a voice from behind them. Turning, Kail saw half a dozen youngsters clustered around one who had spoken.

"Praven? I thought you were expelled from the Academy?" the sorceress asked in surprise.

"I was. And now I'm going to make you pay for threatening my sister," he snarled, and together the teenagers raised their hands, the glow of magic springing up around them. Kail grabbed two of her knives, but Qara was faster. Kail closed her eyes as a bright fireball flew from the sorceress' fingertips, and her stomach heaved as the smell of burnt flesh reached her nose.

"Well it looks like I spoke to soon," Qara chirped happily. "There are people who want me dead after all." She opened her eyes to see all of the youngsters in a crumpled, incinerated heap on the floor.

"Who were they?" she asked.

"Students from a rival house... the same one as Glina and Heatha. They were expelled for attacking me on acadamy grounds."

"Attacking you how, exactly?"

"Talking about me behind my back, slandering my name. Saying that I'm dangerous, and can't control myself," said Qara dismissively. "If you ask me, they had it coming."

"Had what coming?"

"Well, when they wouldn't stop talking about me, I confronted them about it. And when they finally admitted it... well, I tried to convince them to stop."

"So you struck first?" she asked.

"No, they did. Calling me names and insulting me. I was just defending myself," Qara replied hotly.

"I don't want you 'defending yourself' unless somebody is coming at you with a weapon or a spell, got that? If people talk about you, ignore them."

"Well what would _you_ do if people were calling _you_ names?" asked the sorceress.

"I'll tell you what I _wouldn't_ do," she said, poking a finger under the girl's nose, and feeling slightly peeved that the younger woman was a fair bit taller than her. "I _wouldn't_ torch them to cinders. The next time you respond like that to anything other than a life-threatening situation, I will strip you, bind you, and drag you kicking and screaming to the Academy, and leave you there for a taste of your own medicine. Understood?"

"You're just like the instructors," said Qara quietly, narrowing her eyes. Kail gave her a wide smile.

"Oh no. I think you'll find that I'm much, _much_ worse than them. Now get back to your table-cleaning before I decide to carry out my threat." Qara shot her a look of anger, but turned and followed Khelgar and Neeshka into the tavern. Kail gave the bodies a last brief look, and then followed her friends inside.

o - o - o - o - o

She should have anticipated the crowd inside the Flagon from the noise level as she was stood outside, but her concentration had been taken up by the sorceress, and the sight of so many off-duty soldiers in the common room took her by surprise. Khelgar and Neeshka immediately went to the bar, and Qara started dodging soldiers who began making cat-calls and shouting suggestive comments when they saw her put on the serving apron. Kail slipped into the corridor to the bedrooms unnoticed, and made her way to Elanee's room. The Elf was still fast asleep, which was hardly surprising. After the seriousness of the wounds, and the energy she had expended in healing herself, she would probably sleep for another twelve hours.

Closing the door, she went to her own bedroom and quickly changed out of her torn shirt, draped the Watch cloak over the coat stand, and ran her fingers through her hair a few times. She didn't bother with more than a quick glance in the mirror before leaving her room and returning to the merrymaking. Duncan was stood behind the bar, chatting quietly to a seated Sir Darmon, and she made her way over to her uncle.

"Ah, Kail, lass," said Duncan, looking up as she approached. Sir Darmon turned in his seat and gave her a dazzling smile. "I believe I have you to thank for this rabble destroying the peace," he continued, but he did not sound too upset. Soldiers probably drank their weight in ale, and business in the Flagon was not usually teeming.

"I was just telling Duncan about the excellent service his favourite niece has been performing for the city," said Darmon. "Lord Nasher was very impressed with my report of you."

"I didn't do it alone," she shrugged.

"And I see I forgot to include modesty in that report as well," he smiled. She shrugged again. It wasn't modesty, it was the truth. She, Neeshka and Khelgar made a good team. Qara... well, at least the sorceress hadn't burnt the warehouse down. That was something, at least. The unnecessary flattery made her feel... uncomfortable. Her father had not raised her to seek approval from others and, quite frankly, she didn't care about it.

"I was wondering if you'd mind answering a few questions, Sir Darmon," she said.

"Am I to be taken to the Watch house for an interview?" he asked in mock surprise. A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.

"No, it's not an official questioning. Just some things I'm curious about," she replied.

"Ah, well in that case, what say you find us a table somewhere a little quieter so we don't have to shout over this lot?" he asked, gesturing at his rowdy men. "I'll fetch you a drink. It's the least I can do after the all time you saved my men and I earlier." She nodded, and left Darmon at the bar with Duncan. She had _just _the table in mind. She made her way to the walled-off side of the tavern, and was pleased to find that the small table in the corner on the opposite side of the room to Fenton and Weasel was empty. The two smugglers were, as usual, engaged in their own conversation, and she briefly wondered how they managed to get any smuggling done when they spent all of their time in the Flagon. Maybe one day she would ask them.

She sat back and glanced around the common room; Neeshka looked surprisingly meek, sat chatting to one of the soldiers. No doubt she wouldn't risk pick-pocketing any of these lot. Khelgar was arm-wrestling with one of the soldiers and Qara was exclaiming, quite loudly to another pair of soldiers, that she was not a tavern wench. Kail grinned to herself as somebody dropped into the chair on the opposite side of the table.

"It seems to me that Sir Boring over there is interested in finding out what other 'services' Duncan's _favourite_ niece performs," said Bishop. Almost instinctively she took out a knife and began flipping it over her knuckles.

"Maybe he just wants to teach me a new song. Maybe it'll be called 'I know what knights like'." She stopped the knife-flipping and leant forward, flashing him what she hoped was a suggestive grin. "Maybe it will even come with a demonstration." He snorted in amusement.

"And what would _you_ do with a knight, wildcat? Put him on a leash and parade him around the streets of Neverwinter?"

"You really do have the strangest ideas, ranger. Now why don't you go and annoy Princess Qara or something? I'm trying to relax, to find a little peace and quiet, and my plans for the evening do not involve you in any way, shape or form," she said.

"Tha-"

"Ah!" She raised a finger to silence him, then leant forward slightly. "Go. Away." He glared at her, but stood up and stalked away. "Good boy," she muttered, not as quietly as she could've done, and fought back a grin of glee when he turned to glare indignantly at her again. A moment later he disappeared out of sight at his usual seat on the other side of the fireplace.

"Did I miss the joke?" asked Sir Darmon, sitting down and placing a tankard of ale in front of her.

"No joke. I was just thinking of something amusing," she said, taking a sip of the ale. It was delicious and cold, obviously from a keg fresh from the cellar.

"Now, before I start asking you for a detailed history of your life, including any and all amusing childhood anecdotes... you had some questions for me?" he smiled.

"Not that many, actually. I was hoping you would tell me a little about the Nine."

"Ah, of course. Duncan mentioned that you are new to Neverwinter. Sometimes I take it for granted that not everybody in the city was born and raised here. We, the Neverwinter Nine, are bodyguards sworn to protect Lord Nasher and Neverwinter. We often go on special missions for Nasher, such as the warehouse search he sent me on."

"Do you know what's happening in Blacklake?" she asked.

"I'm afraid not even a face as pretty as yours can persuade me to speak about that," he replied, the slight hint of regret in his voice at odds with the mischievous twinkle in his eye. "In any case, there is little I can tell you. Nasher assigned me to deal with crime on the Docks, not to take part in the investigation in Blacklake. All I know is that two nobles, Lord Gentry and Lord Dalren, have been murdered, and that the Cloaktower mages have been called in to help the Watch in their investigations. You'd be better asking Captain Brelaina, since she's the one running the Watch investigation in that district."

"Any idea when the lockdown will be lifted?"

"When the Watch has caught the murderer, I'd say." She groaned. _I'm sure somebody has orchestrated these murders __**just**__ to keep me out of Blacklake,_ she thought. "Now, is there anything else you wanted to know, or can I begin interrogating you about your favourite colour, and food, and all those other little things?" he asked with a wink.

She liked Darmon, but she answered his questions in as little detail as possible. Of the shards and her trip to Neverwinter she mentioned nothing at all. _Keep moving. Keep your head down. Don't be a target._ And so, as far as anybody but her friends and family were concerned, she was just a bard from a small Mere village who wanted to get out and see more of the world. She wasn't important. She was just doing her job.

"I'm sorry," said Darmon at last. "That's the third yawn you've stifled in the past five minutes. It's rude of me to keep you awake after all the hard work you put into your mission earlier. Hard work that you saved me from I might add. I guess it's past time for me to return to Castle Never anyway. As much as I'm enjoying myself, I _do_ have to be up quite early for another thrilling assignment."

"Then as a relative of this tavern's humble proprietor, I consider it my duty to escort you as far as the door. For all the drinks you've provided for me," she smiled. "Though I do hope you didn't actually pay my uncle for them, since he never charges me."

"I'd hate to be responsible for putting Duncan out of business," he said, leading the way across the floor and around drunken soldiers. He stopped by the door, took both of her hands, and kissed the palms of each. "Thank you for the company. And I do hope that the next time we meet it will be without the company of my squads."

She inclined her head slightly to him, and he turned and left. Then, her palms still tingling from the touch of his lips, she called goodnight to her uncle and made her way to her bedroom. She stripped and changed into her shift, then crawled under the covers of the bed with a self-satisfied grin. _Neverwinter may not be so bad after all._


	19. The Edge

_19. The Edge_

"I really don't think this is necessary," said Elanee for the sixth time since they had left the Flagon that afternoon.

"Well I think it is," said Kail. "Just as it is Khelgar's duty to wear good plate armour to protect himself as the group's best fighter, it is _your_ priority to protect yourself as our best, and only, healer. I mean, what would happen if one of us was seriously injuried, but you were also injured and couldn't get to us to heal our wounds?"

"I will not fall for that," said Elanee, then sighed in exasperation at the chainmail she was wearing.

"Just humour me, okay? I don't mind if you don't want to wear it out in the wilds or whatever, but whilst we're in the city, until this Moire issue has been resolved, I don't want anybody to take more chances than necessary," she explained.

"Then why do you and Qara not have to wear armour also?" asked Elanee. Qara gave the Elf a grin of victory.

"Because armour will only hinder me, and because Qara cannot cast spells if she is constantly being distracted and restricted by armour. _You_, on the other hand, don't have that excuse. Be thankful I let you stick with a chain. I _could_ have bought you a set of full plate, you know." A look of pure horror crossed Elanee's face.

"Is this the place?" Khelgar asked, stopping outside a pair of tall, wrought-iron gates.

"This is it. Fihelis' place. He's one of the wealthier people in the Merchant district. Owns a ton of warehouses. I'm not surprised that the Watch want to keep him safe. Informants like Fihelis are dealt with terminally," Neeshka explained.

"So we're just going to knock on the door, bring out Fihelis, and escort him into Brelaina's custody?" asked Qara, covering her mouth with her hand in a mock yawn. "Piece of cake." Khelgar groaned.

"Aw, now ye've gone and done it, lass."

"Done what?" asked the sorceress in surprise.

"Jinxed us," said Neeshka. "It _was_ going to be a nice easy escort mission. Now that you've said those words, it's going to turn into a blood bath."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," said Qara. "Well, right next to Khelgar's 'singing'."

"Let's get this over with," said Kail, marching upto the door and knocking on it. "This is the city Watch. Open up, Fihelis. Brelaina sent us," she called.

"Fihelis isn't here," a man's voice called back. "Another group of Watchmen came for him about fifteen minutes ago. He left with them."

"And you are...?"

"I'm Greaves. I'm Fihelis' butler."

"I thought Brelaina said that his domestic staff had already been put somewhere safe," said Khelgar quietly.

"She did," said Kail.

"If that guy's a butler, I'm the queen of Thay," said Neeshka. "If he was a domestic, he'd call his employer 'Mister' or 'Sir' or 'Lord', instead of just 'Fihelis'."

"Open the door," Kail called again. "I have a Dwarf, and I'm not afraid to use him."

"I can't open it. The chain is stuck," said the man.

"Alright Khelgar, do your stuff," she grinned. He nodded, took twenty steps back, and brandished his mace. Then he ran at full speed, let out a Dwarven warcry, and swung the weapon at the edge of the door. The wood splintered and smouldered where the mace impacted it, and as Khelgar stepped back to swing his weapon again, Kail lifted her leg and gave it a hefty kick. Already battered by the warrior's attack, it broke from its hinges and fell inward, landing on the man who had been stood behind it.

"Sorry. Always wanted to do that," she said with an apologetic smile. Khelgar shrugged and stepped towards the gaping hole, and she stopped him with a touch to his plate-covered arm. "Be careful." He nodded, and stepped cautiously forward. Two men appeared from around the inner door and rushed at the Dwarf. One met a fiery death at the end of the mace, and the second took one of Neeshka's arrows to the chest.

"See?" said Khelgar, turning to Qara. "Jinxed."

"Please give me some good news, Neeshka," said Kail to the Tiefling. The other woman looked up from her examination of the mens' pockets.

"I don't suppose you'd like to hear that they were the cleaners?" she asked. "No, I guess not. I'm going to have to point the finger of blame at Moire." Kail sighed.

"Well, with any luck, Fihelis is being tortured right now. What?!" she asked at the incredulous looks the others gave her. "All I mean is that if Moire wants him tortured, we might be able to get to him before they kill him. But if they decided to get rid of him quickly, we're already too late."

"He's not dead," said Neeshka. "They wouldn't have this place so well-guarded if they had already killed him. They would've slipped in, killed him, then slipped out, or otherwise taken him back to Moire for something more personal."

"Right," said Kail, "Khelgar, you take point. I'm going to watch your back. Elanee, you stay behind me, and get ready with those healing spells. We don't know how many men Moire has here. For all we know, we could be walking into the biggest ambush since... well... a really big ambush. Qara, you stay close to Elanee. Feel free to burn anything that moves, but try not to torch the whole house. At least not while we're all inside." The sorceress' eyes gleamed brightly at the prospect of using her powers. "Neeshka, you bring up the rear and watch Qara's back. I don't want anybody taking a shot at her while she's concentrating. Let's just hope we're not too late."

Khelgar nodded, and led the way into the house.

o - o - o - o - o

"How are we doing?" Kail asked Elanee as the Elf placed her hands on Khelgar's neck. A healing glow surrounded them, and the long gash across his cheek mended itself instantly.

"I have only one healing spell left," she replied.

"Maybe we won't need it," said Neeshka, and she indicated a door. "This is the last room in the house. If Fihelis isn't in there..."

"Then we've been running around an empty house killing Moire's goons for no reason at all," Kail sighed.

"Want to kiss the lucky coin?" asked the Tiefling, digging into her pocket and holding up the coined purloined from Leldon.

"Ew, ye don't know where that's been!" said Khelgar with a look of digust.

"Well I don't know where _you've_ been either, but that doesn't stop me from sitting at the same table as you while I eat my food," said Neeshka.

"Let's debate hygiene later," sighed Kail. "Qara, how are you for spells?"

"I could keep this up all day," the young woman shrugged.

"Alright. Same order as last time. We're going to rush in, and I want everybody to pick a target and stick with him until he's dead. Ready when you are, Khelgar." He nodded, hefting his mace as he approached the door. Kail followed on his heels, and heard the others crowd in behind her. The Dwarf pulled the handle, pushing the door open and rushing forward to allow the others room to enter after him. Three of the typical goons were stood on the far side of the room, doggedly watching a fourth plain-dressed man. And between them and the man, undoubtedly Fihelis, was probably the last person she had been expecting to see; a petite woman dressed in finely cut clothes, with a pair of short swords sheathed at her belt. Kail felt her lip curl into a snarl. _Moire_.

"Ah, you must be the ones responsible for all of my problems in the Docks. I had thought that whispers of a competent Watchman were merely rumours," said Moire with a smile.

"Bitch," Kail hissed.

"Unfortunately, I don't have time to kill you slowly, as you deserve. I shall have to settle for quickly, instead." She drew her weapons, advancing towards the group.

"She's mine!" shouted Kail, drawing her daggers and rushing to meet the thief leader. Khelgar and Elanee tried to protest, but the pair closed too quickly and fell to slashing and parrying each other as the remainder of both groups fought each other.

From the corner of her eye she saw Qara fire off a missile spell at one of the thugs, who went down with an agonised cry, but a second of Moire's men pulled out a sling, flinging a stone at the sorceress' head before she could react. The stone hit Qara's temple, and she collapsed in a heap. Elanee and Khelgar were dealing with the two remaining thugs, whilst Neeshka stood by desperately trying to get a clear shot at one with her bow. Kail turned her full attention back to Moire.

The pair were quite evenly matched, but Kail had the advantage of height and strength -- for once -- whereas Moire had the advantage of experience. Gradually, Moire's blows became swifter, stronger, and she realised that the thief had been testing her, pushing her to tire her out. No doubt that when the thief sensed her flagging, she would move in closer for a killing blow. She felt her insides churning with fear, and one of Moire's swipes broke through her defence, cutting her across the forearm. The wound stung for a minute, and blood began to seep into her shirt, but she ignored the pain as she deflected another slash.

_No! I will not be beaten by this bitch,_ she thought to herself. _I haven't come all this way be stopped now. I haven't fought my way through hordes of Duergar, and Bladelings, and the undead, and thugs, just to be beaten by some... whore! And one who's shorter than me!_ Slowly, her fear turned to anger. _This woman is the reason Elanee almost died. She's the reason somebody tried to kill me while my defences were down as I sat outside the Flagon opposite that pig-headed ranger. She's the one responsible for burning down the Watch House. She's probably responsible for every cut and bruise I've taken since entering this gods-forsaken city._ She realised, then, that she was trying to feed her own anger. But it wasn't working. She was tiring, while Moire still seemed fresh. She could feel the perspiration prickling her forehead as she continued to parry the other woman's blows.

_I want to kill this woman. I don't want to see her hanging from the gallows, I want to do it myself. Why isn't this working? The one time I want to be angry, I can't? Think about Amie... what would I like to do to that mage who killed Amie?_ She felt her anger stir a little, but not enough. _Qara. Remember what she was doing to you in the Flagon. The anger and the strength bubbling inside you, trying to lash out, trying to break free..._ As she recalled the event, she felt it again. Her pulse quickened as adrenaline surged through her body. _Yes, that's right. Think of how much you wanted to kill her, right there and then. You wanted to snap her neck with your bare hands, to keep hitting her and hitting her until she was nothing but a broken, bloody doll, that condescending sneer wiped from her face, while you were swimming in the power that she tried to awaken..._ She felt the power within her writhe, trying to touch her, and she reached back and touched it herself, and then let it consume her.

Moire had not expected it. She thought she was fighting an opponent who fought smart, who fought defensively; she was not prepared for a violent, offensive rage. All thoughts of swords and daggers fled from Kail's mind, and she didn't even know if she was still holding hers. With a tremendous burst of energy she sprang forward through Moire's defences, slamming the shorter woman backwards between the wall and her own body. It hadn't been a tactical, logical decision, it had merely been a way for her to get closer to the thief. The force of the impact knocked the wind from Moire's lungs, and Kail grabbed her right wrist with her own hand, bringing it backwards and then slamming it forward against the wall. Even when Moire's hand lost its grip of the sword, she did not halt the motion, until she heard the thief's wrist snap as it broke.

Her left hand sought Moire's throat as her right hand held back her left arm; the thief was trying to stab at her with her one remaining sword. Snarling, controlled completely by her rage, Kail brought her knee up sharply as the hand around the neck brought Moire's body downward. Her knee connected with the woman's stomach, winding her again. Then she released the thief's throat, balling up her fist and hitting Moire across the face. The woman's nose made a sickening _'crack'_ sound, and she screamed as blood streamed from her nostrils. But Kail did not stop hitting; she punched Moire's face, her throat, her stomach, and even kneed her heavily in the back when the woman sank to the floor and tried to curl into a protective ball. Some tiny part of her mind, an insignificant, weak part, eventually noted that Moire stopped breathing when she rammed her elbow into cartilage of the her throat, but she was too far gone to care, lost in a world of inflicting damage, and she kept hitting and hitting until her own knuckles were raw.

And then, all of a sudden, the world went black.

o - o - o - o - o

Neeshka jumped in fright when somebody let out a primitive scream of rage, and almost lost her grip on the bowstring, which would have proved quite terminal for Khelgar. She quickly took the arrow from her bow before she accidentally loosed it. Khelgar and Elanee were finishing off the two remaining thugs, so she turned her attention to Kail.

Her heart lurched with fear as her friend sprang forward, straight through Moire's defences. How Kail managed to do that without being skewered by a sword she had no idea, but she seemed to have lost her senses. The bard dropped her daggers on the floor and grabbed Moire's wrist, slamming the other woman's hand into the wall with frightening ferocity. When Moire dropped one of her weapons, Kail kneed her in the stomach and then began hitting her, wrenching the second weapon out of the thief leader's hand, and forcing her to the floor. When Moire began screaming, Neeshka looked away, her stomach lurching again as her friend kept hitting the thief. Even when the screams stopped, Kail kept hitting.

"Don't go near her!" Khelgar shouted, and Neeshka noticed that Elanee was approaching their leader. "She's berserking. She'll kill you without even knowing that it's you."

"Here," said Neeshka, digging into a pouch and pulling out a scroll of paper. "Read this." After Kail had told them about her problem with occasionally losing control of herself whilst fighting, she had stocked up on the things. She just hadn't seriously thought that she'd ever have to see one used. Elanee nodded, and recited the incantation from the scroll. The air between the druid and Kail... rippled, was the only word she could think of to describe it, and the bard promptly toppled over, rendered unconscious by the sleep spell.

"Leave her for now," said Khelgar as Elanee took another step forward. "We know she's okay, but the sorceress took a pretty nasty head blow. Better check she's still alive first." Elanee hesitated, then hurried to the still form of Qara whilst Khelgar turned to the last living man in the room. "Fihelis?" The man nodded, looking decidedly pale. "Good. It would've been a shame if we'd killed the wrong people," grinned Khelgar.

"I... uh... thank you," said Fihelis. "Are your... uh... friends... well?"

"I'm sure the fire-starting lass will be fine, and our leader's just having a little nap. She's not usually so determined... she just didn't like Moire very much," said the Dwarf.

"My head still hurts. Your healing didn't work properly," Qara complained as Elanee helped her to her feet.

"It was the only heal I had left. Maybe you should get a harder head," the druid snapped.

"Just knock her out again. I'm sure that'll teach her a little gratitude," offered Neeshka. She didn't know why Kail bothered letting the sorceress tag along. She complained even more than moss-breath and the tree-worshipper. At the thought of her friend she hurried to the bard's side, and rolled her off Moire's bloodied corpse. Her insides twisted again at the memory of Kail's savage attack, and the feral look on her face as she kept on hitting the thief... but luckily, most of the blood staining her clothes and her Watch cloak wasn't hers. She seemed to have come away with surprisingly few wounds, the most serious being a slash on her forearm. "Khelgar, help me," she called to the Dwarf. He hurried over and picked Kail up, hoisting her over his shoulder, but her fingers trailed on the floor. "You're too short, moss-breath. Let me carry her," said Neeshka, and Khelgar helped her to get a grip on the bard.

She heard chanting behind her, and suddenly the woman's weight became a lot less. In fact, she felt as light as a feather. She turned in surprise, and saw Elanee remove her hand from her shoulder. "Thanks," she grinned at the Elf. Maybe tree-worshippers were useful for something after all. "Why don't you and Qara escort Fihelis to the Watch House? I'm sure me and Khelgar can manage to get Kail back to the Flagon alone."

"Eh, might as well all go together, Tiefling," said Khelgar reluctantly. The Watch House is on the way to the Flagon, and until word of Moire's death spreads, we're still in danger of ambush."

"What happened to her?" asked Qara, who had been unconscious for the whole incident.

"Nothing that concerns you, fire-hair," she said hotly. Kail's secret was a secret between she, the bard, and Khelgar. It didn't concern anybody else. Especially not somebody whom Kail didn't even like.

"She, like you, needs to learn to wear armour in combat," said Elanee. Neeshka felt a sliver of surprise at the druid's words. True, Elanee hadn't actually lied about what happened... but she had given a misleading answer. She hadn't thought that the Elf had it in her.

"Let's go. I want to be out of here before anybody else thinks of showing up," grunted Khelgar. He picked up Kail's daggers, and then led them out of Fihelis' house.

It was a quiet procession that filed through the park and into the streets of the Merchant district. Very few people even glanced at them, which was a testament to how quickly they were becoming used to seeing the Watch's newest recruits being carried around unconscious. _First Elanee, now Kail... I hope we don't have to carry moss-breath next_, she thought wryly. _Even with a spell to increase my strength, he'd probably break my back._

When they reached the Watch house, Elanee escorted Fihelis inside and handed him over to Brelaina. Then the three of them trekked back to the tavern that was fast becoming home. It was strange... she'd never really considered anywhere home before. Neverwinter was home, but she didn't have one specific place of abode. She had always moved around a lot. It paid to be cautious. But now... strange as it seemed, she felt like the Flagon was home. Having adventures with Kail and Khelgar and Elanee -- but not Qara, who was obviously didn't care about anything but herself -- was home.

"What in the Nine Hells happened?" Duncan demanded when they entered the tavern. He hurried forward and took his niece from Neeshka, carrying her into the back rooms.

"She got a little over-excited," said Neeshka quietly, though in vain. Qara was already heading to the bar, probably to nag Sal for a turn in the kitchen for a change, and tavern's three regular patrons were sat engrossed in their own drinks, though the ranger's wolf followed them down the corridor, trying to sniff at Kail. She considered shooing the animal away, but then thought better of it. "We had to put her to sleep, but she's pretty much unharmed."

"Unharmed?! Look at all this blood!" exclaimed Duncan.

"Ah... yeah. We sorta... found Moire," she said slowly. "I don't think Kail liked her very much, but luckily we won't have to worry about her anymore."

"Leave Neeshka and I to undress her and cleanse her wounds," said Elanee as Duncan placed the bard on her bed. The druid ushered both of the men, and the wolf, out of the door, and then turned her attention to Kail. Neeshka helped her to remove their friend's clothes, and as she did so she sent a silent prayer to Tymora. She prayed that when Kail finally woke up, it would actually **be** Kail who woke up.


	20. Blood and Sand

_20. Blood and Sand_

Kail's eyelids flickered open, the daylight streaming through the window causing her to shield her eyes with her hands as she sat up. _That was the best night's sleep I've had in weeks_, she thought. Which was strange, since she didn't even remember climbing into bed. The last thing she remembered was... oh god, she had lost herself in the fight with Moire. She could remember it all -- every punch she had thrown, every curse that had passed her lips, every rage-filled thought of murder. She had killed Moire, rather than turning her over for justice.

A movement in the corner in the room caught her eye, and Neeshka stood up from a crouch to regard her warily. _Oh gods, the others saw everything... they saw me at my worst. As a hate-consumed monster._ Suddenly, the thief turned and disappeared around the bedroom door, stepping into the corridor. Kail's heart sank._ I can't blame her. I wouldn't want anything to do with me if I saw what happened last night either._ But, to her surprise, Neeshka reappeared a moment later with Khelgar in tow, and closed the door behind them.

"See, I told you she was awake," she said to the Dwarf.

"Bah. The tree-worshipper said she should be sleeping for another couple of hours yet," he grumbled. "How are ye feeling, lass?"

"Physically, I feel fine," she said, her voice sounding strange to her ears. "As for how I feel about what happened..."

"Don't worry about it, lass. We all need to find a way to relieve our tension. I do it through brawling, and tail-for-brains does it through stealing. You do it by occasionally berserking in combat. Nothing wrong with that,"

"Although if you'd like to find less violent way, I could take you to see Ophala," Neeshka grinned wickedly. "I'm sure she could find somebody to help you relax a little."

"I'm sure she could," she said drily. "Thank you, for stopping me, by the way. My head doesn't hurt, so I'm guessing Elanee healed me after you knocked me out?"

"Ah, not exactly." Neeshka pulled out a pile of scrolls from one of the pouches at her belt, and gave a sheepish smile. "Scrolls of the sleep spell. I uh... found them lying around Highcliff. I thought we'd probably get more use out of them than a bunch of insomniac farmers would."

"Thanks," she smiled back. "I really appreciate everything you've done for me. Both of you." She would probably still be hitting Moire's corpse at this very minute if they hadn't stopped her, and Fihelis would be... "Oh gods, Fihelis!" she said, clapping a hand over her mouth. How could she have forgotten the mission? As soon as she had seen Moire, every other thought had fled from her mind.

"He's safe. We delivered him to Brelaina, and he passes on his thanks for your timely intervention. Huh, I think Brelaina expects to see you sharpish, too. That woman is a harsh taskmistress," said Khelgar. "She could even teach Dwarven women a thing or two about duty and efficiency."

"And I think Duncan will want to feed you up before you go anywhere," said Neeshka. "With the way he's been worrying, anyone would think you were his own child, rather than his half-niece by adoption."

"Alright, give me five minutes to get dressed, and then I'll go and reassure my uncle that I'm going to live. Then we'll head down to the Watch House and see what Brelaina has planned for us."

o - o - o - o - o

"First of all, I would like to commend you on a job well done. With Fihelis in our protection and Moire dead, the thieves' operations in the Docks have been severely hampered. It will take them a long time indeed to recover from the blows you have dealt them," said Brelaina.

"Well, I _am_ aiming for captaincy," Kail smiled cheerfully.

"I'm sure," said Brelaina, smothering a rare grin. "I have another mission for you, one that will take you a little further afield. Now that we've clipped the wings of the Docks thieves, we can turn our attention to outside the city's walls for once. The Lords Alliance, one of Neverwinter's strongest allies, has sent us an emissary from Waterdeep. This emissary was supposed to have arrived over a week ago, but there has been no sign of him yet."

"What route was he taking?" Brelaina reached into a drawer of the desk, taking out a map and handing it to her. "Who is he?" she asked, scanning her eyes over the route before pocketing the paper.

"We don't know who Waterdeep sent specifically, but he should be carrying documents to prove his identity. I'm concerned that he might have fallen afoul of the orc tribes that infest the region."

"And if he's already dead?"

"News of his fate, any fate, would be welcome. We can't afford to alienate Waterdeep, not in these difficult times with Luskan," Brelaina explained.

"When you get to Old Owl Well, speak to Commander Callum," said Cormick. "He's leading the greycloaks there in an attempt to retake the well from the orcs. He'll be able to give you more information, and we've already sent word ahead for him to expect you."

Kail gave them both a mock bow, and turned to follow her friends out of the door. _Well, at least Elanee will be glad to get away from the city,_ she thought.

o - o - o - o - o

"Back again?" asked Sand as they filed into his shop. The Elf blinked when Qara entered behind Khelgar. "Why, you've brought a visitor from the Academy, I see."

"I'm not with the Academy. I left," said Qara haughtily.

"Studies too strenuous?" he accused. "Well then, it's good it was your choice. Others have not been so fortunate as being extended the offer."

"Studies too strenuous? I didn't _need_ to study. I already _knew_ how to do magic," laughed Qara.

"Ah, yes. You are a sorceress. A _natural_."

"Who is this Elf?" Qara asked, turning to Kail. "He's got a smart mouth for a _mer_chant. He better watch it, or I'll burn this shop of his down."

"If you set fire to the rafters you'll find the place will draw your energy out of you until you lie quivering on the floor. It is 'Vanteen's Siphon', if you are familiar with the historical codex bearing his name," said Sand, a smug grin on his face.

"I didn't care much for history. Or the Academy books," said the sorceress.

"Ah, then perhaps you may wish to hold your threats until you do. Now, how can I help you all today?"

"We've just come for a few supplies," said Kail. "Heading out of the city for a pleasant walk in the mountains. You know how it is."

"Not really, but I am just a simple merchant," he smiled.

"Well, as a simple merchant and obviously learned scholar, could I ask you a couple of questions?"

"Of course. What answers do you seek?"

"For a start, what do you know about this Lord... Dalren?"

"Normally I'm not one to speak badly of the dead, but Dalren most likely deserved whatever death he had coming. And deserved to be buried in the betrayer's graveyard."

"What do you mean?"

"It was a wonder that he wasn't exiled during the war with Luskan for his _questionable_ involvement with weapon shipments. But the matter was not brought to light. Yet somehow, Nasher ended up getting a deed to his lands, a tithe against future levies, and a full company of additional soldiers," Sand explained.

"Do you think Nasher blackmailed him?" she asked.

"Times were difficult, and it was a necessary... _oversight_ on Nasher's part. But Dalren never deserved to live past the war with Luskan."

"So he may have been murdered justly?"

"I doubt any is truly just, but did he deserve to be tried and executed? Oh yes." She merely nodded at his words. She didn't particularly see any difference between a just murder and a just execution, but obviously Sand put great store in it. Glancing at her friends, she noticed them all perusing the shelves of goods, and she took the opportunity to take Sand slightly off to the side.

"Do you recognise the term "Kalach-Cha?" she asked him.

"Well it's not Elvish. Too harsh and gutteral. But not as crude as orcish. The word sounds like a title, though, like "betrayer". Perhaps a linguist would know more, but not I."

"Thanks. It was a shot in the dark anyway," she admitted.

"Can we _go_? It smells like the _Academy_ in here," Qara complained loudly. Kail rolled her eyes at Sand as the rest of her companions paid for their purchases.

"Have fun traipsing through the cold, windy, orc-infested mountains!" Sand called after them as they left.

o - o - o - o - o

"Are you sure you want to be leaving today?" Duncan asked as Kail hastily shoved her clothes into her backpack. The rest of her personal effects followed them, and she slipped the shards down the side of the bag, protected somewhat by the clothes. "I mean, last night you were going toe to toe with Moire, and today you're running off to the mountains to fight orcs! Maybe you should rest for a day or two first, get your full strength back." Kail gave her uncle a brief smile, then stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek before whirling from the room, pack in hand. How different he was to Daeghun.

"FRONT OF THE FLAGON. THREE MINUTES. ANYBODY NOT READY GETS LEFT BEHIND," she shouted as she passed her friends' rooms. Khelgar's door flew open and the Dwarf practically tumbled into the hallway, falling in line behind her. "I'm sure," she said to Duncan without turning. Her uncle sighed.

"Make sure she doesn't get herself killed," she heard him say quietly to Khelgar. The Dwarf gave a grunt of laughter.

To her surprise, Elanee was already waiting outside the Flagon, her pack on her back and a wide smile on her face. The Elf hadn't stopped smiling since Brelaina had told them she was sending them out of the city. A moment later Neeshka joined them, and at the very last minute Qara tumbled out of the tavern, her hair somewhat dishevelled as she tried to manoeuvre her arms through the straps of her pack. Duncan gave them all an appraising glance as they checked their packs and weapons.

"Ladies, take care of Khelgar for me," he said when they were ready to depart. "That free-loading Dwarf has a tab the size of a Tarrasque."

"Bah, I'll pay you in orc skulls," said Khelgar, patting his mace.

"We'll bring you something for your walls," said Kail.

"Just come back in one piece," said Duncan, waving them off as they left the tavern. Kail waved back until they rounded a corner and her uncle dropped out of sight. Content to let somebody else lead for once, she dropped back to walk beside Khelgar as Neeshka led them to the gates out of the city. And, when the Tiefling stopped in her tracks, she almost ran into the back of her.

"What's wrong?" she asked the thief.

"We're being followed," said Neeshka. She pointed to a dark patch of shadows between two buildings. "By a wolf."

"It's probably just Karnwyr," she shrugged.

"Karnwyr?" asked Elanee, her brows raised in surprise.

"Bishop's wolf," she elaborated, and Qara scoffed.

"Trust _you_ to get friendly with the man most in need of a bath and a personality replacement in the whole of Neverwinter."

"We're not friendly," Kail said, forcing the scowl from her face. "I only like Karnwyr. I slip him scraps of bacon under the table when nobody is watching," she admitted.

"Ha, so that's how such a small lass is able to polish off those big plates of food I see you with," Khelgar grinned.

"Well, I do eat _most_ of it myself. Lucas says..."

"I'm quite sure I'm not the only one who doesn't care about Lucas' pearls of wisdom relating to eating food," interrupted Qara. "But if that mangy wolf doesn't leave right now, I'm going to burn it alive."

"If it makes you feel safer, your Highness, I'll try and tell him to go back to the Flagon," said Kail, stepping towards the wolf without giving the sorceress a chance to reply. As she approached the shadows, a rumble echoed down the alleyway. "Hey, what's that for? It's only me. Bacon, remember?" she asked quietly. Suddenly, the wolf in the shadows leapt at her, its jaws aiming for her throat. She rolled away, her hands instinctively drawing her daggers as she stood.

"Don't kill it!" Elanee shouted, running up and throwing herself between the wolf and Kail. "It is not a wolf, it is a wounded druid in animal form." At the Elf's words, the wolf backed away, still growling, but no longer looking like it was going to attack her on sight. She noticed that the animal's fur was almost entirely red with blood.

"Can you do anything for it?" she asked. Elanee knelt down beside the druid, tenderly feeling the lupine body with her delicate hands. The rumbling growl stopped altogether.

"The blood is so thick that I can barely make out the wounds..." said Elanee, almost to herself. Then she closed her eyes and spoke the words of a healing spell, enveloping both druids in a blue halo. As the magic began to work, mending the tears in the wolf's hide, Elanee turned her head slightly to Kail. "Thank you for allowing me to treat this one." Kail shrugged. It wasn't as if she could have stopped Elanee from healing the druid even if she wanted to.

"Are you from the Circle?" asked the wolf suddenly.

"The Circle of the Mere, yes, though I am far from the lands that we tend. But how did you come to be so badly wounded?" Elanee asked in return.

"I am from the Circle of Swords, in Neverwinter Woods. I was hunting for one of the Circle of the Mere when I came across your scent, the scent of Merdelain, and followed it here. I was wounded by guards who thought me no more than a wild creature. The closer I came to the Mere, the more difficult it became to shift forms, until I was trapped in this body."

"Why were you hunting Elanee?" Kail asked, keeping her distance from the druid.

"Because whatever affects the Mere, also affects Neverwinter Woods as well, though not as strongly. Many of us have been forced to travel away from our protected lands to find sanctuary in lands yet untouched by this... taint. We hoped that one of the Circle of the Mere would know more about this than we, and I had hoped to find Vashne or Naevan."

"On our way here, we encountered another of my Circle... Kaleil. He said... he said that the Circle of the Mere is lost," said Elanee, and Kail knew she was not the only one who detected the fear and sadness in the Elf's voice. The wolf somehow managed to look sympathetic.

"That is sad news indeed. But how is it you do not know the fate of your own Circle?"

"I have been away for a long time," said Elanee. "It has been over a year since the Elders and I were in the same place. But I have come to believe that the problems affecting the land are somehow tied to this woman that I travel with, and..."

"...and we're still looking for evidence before making any wild claims," finished Kai. Elanee frowned, and led her aside.

"The more people who know about those shards and the taint within the land, the better off we'll be." Kail blinked at her. Was the woman _crazy_?

"Are you kidding me? I have people _hunting_ me over this. People want me _dead_ because of these shards. I came here because I thought I would be a little safer, not so that I could announce everything to the whole world. You may be willing to compromise my safety, and that of the others, just to satisfy the curiosity of some blood-soaked druid, but I'm not. And anybody willing to take that chance has no place by my side," she said. Elanee looked horrified by her words.

"If you have secrets, you may keep them," the other druid spoke up. "I believe that, if they are of consequence, they will reveal themselves in time. For now I must continue hunting for the rest of the Circle of the Mere. It is my duty. If you wish to speak to the Elders of the Circle of Swords, you can travel to Skymirror, and speak to them from there. Good journey to you, Elanee of the Circle of the Mere."

"What is this... Skymirror?" Kail asked Elanee once the wolf had slunk away in the shadows.

"It is a way for druids from one Circle to speak to druids of another Circle even over vast distances," the Elf explained. "If we are able to use Skymirror to speak to the druids of Neverwinter Woods, it would save us having to travel there ourselves." Kail nodded, and took out her map.

"Where is it?" She watched as Elanee made a mark in the shape of a circle, then examined it compared to the sign for Old Owl Well. "We can't spare the time right now to visit this Skymirror of yours, not with the Waterdeep emissary's life at stake. But, if you like, we'll stop there on the way back and see what these druids can tell us."

"Thank you," smiled Elanee. "That is all that I ask." Kail folded up her map again and turned to the rest of the group.

"Ready to see some mountains?"


	21. A Gnome in the Hand

_21. A Gnome In The Hand_

"Are you _sure_ you're reading that thing correctly?" Neeshka asked, blowing at a strand of hair that had flopped over into her eyes. "It's not that I doubt you or anything, but I'm sure we passed that very same tree stump four hours back."

"Of course I'm reading it right," said Kail. "Besides, I don't get lost. Not in the wilds, at least. My father trained me too well for that." _If you can consider being taken out into the middle of the Mere and told 'find your way back home' "training". Though I'll admit, it was effective. Thank you, Daeghun._ Still, these forests and meadows were much different than the Mere... the grass was too tall, for a start.

"Why don't we just get Her Highness to scorch a mark across every tree stump we come across? That way we'll _know_ if we're walking in circles."

"Burning tree stumps is boring," said Qara from behind. The sorceress was not fairing as well as everybody else; unused to travelling, she was exhausted from the near-constant walking. Her hair was even more dishevelled than usual, her robe, which she had foolishly chosen for the journey, was dusty and torn, and she had been almost too tired to complain. Much. "I much prefer to aim for moving targets. If you'd care to run around a bit, I'd be happy to demonstrate."

"Elanee?" The Elf turned her head to Kail at the mention of her name.

"It was not the same tree stump."

"See," Kail said with a small grin of triumph for Neeshka, "I know where I'm going."

"Maybe we should just stop and ask for directions," said Khelgar, and then raised his hands defensively when the women glared at him. "Alright, alright, it was just a suggestion."

"There's nobody else out here but us anyway, moss-breath. All the _sane_ people are back in the city," said Neeshka.

_"Now this here is whitethistle. Can give you the runs you know. And I made up a song for it, quite a catchy tune..."_

"What in the hells is that?" asked the Tiefling.

"Obviously not a _sane_ person, since he's out here like us," grinned Khelgar.

_"Whitethistle, whitethistle, all in a row, in Neverwinter woods, they all grow!"_

"That voice..." said Qara with a shudder.

"It sounds almost..." Elanee started.

"Twee?" suggested Kail.

"I was going to suggest 'irritating', 'annoying' or 'hideous', but I suppose it might sound _twee_ to a swamp-farmer," said Qara.

"Perhaps we should investigate the source of these... sounds," said Elanee.

"Yeah, and maybe Khelgar could ask for directions," Neeshka said, sticking her tongue out at the Dwarf, who merely rolled his eyes. Kail nodded, and led her companions forward through the tall grass. When she caught sight of smoke rising from a campfire she headed towards it, and they stepped out into a clearing. In front of them was a small camp, and a very short... man... dancing around a bush, seemingly oblivious to their arrival. She cleared her throat, and the man jumped in surprise, noticing them for the first time.

"Oh, well met!" he said. "Sorry, didn't even see you standing there. Thought you might be a Wendersnaven at first, but I can see you," he giggled to himself, "So I guess that discounts that."

"Wender-what?" she asked.

"Wendersnaven," he enunciated. "It doesn't roll off the tongue too easily, so don't worry. Don't say it too loudly if you're not sure though - they may take offence."

"And I thought Khelgar had problems," muttered Qara.

"What are ye talking about? This Gnome's mad, not me!"

"Thought I might camp out here a bit, play a tune or three, see if I could catch their attention," the Gnome elaborated. "No luck though, but luck's what you make it, so I've been working hard." Kail tried to interrupt, but the little man was talking so fast that she couldn't get a word in edgeways. "Oh, but I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Grobnar Gnomehands. Probably guessing where that last name comes from, though it tends to confuse most people. Quite a collector, and maker, and teller of tales I am. All the Gnomehands are. Except the ones they hanged in Luskan. Working on quite a tale myself you know, and the act of composing, it is a tale in itself."

"Wait a minute. You're a bard?" she managed to interject at last.

"Indeed! I, Grobnar, am a philosopher, a poet, a cataloguer of flora, fauna, and all things wild and all things mechanical. Aaaand, I can give it rhythm."

"Uh..."

"You see, it all starts with a tune. Stay about that bush, or that root, or that cloud, or that boot..." When it was obvious that nothing was going to stop Grobnar, Kail motioned for her companions to sit down and take their morning break. She _had_ been pushing them quite hard for speed. Qara looked ready to drop right then and there. Maybe they could persuade the sorceress to turn back. Smiling, she closed her eyes and listened to Grobnar prattle...

"...and then, after I had welded the spring-mounted mechanical shield to my codpiece, I fired it, only to be thrown back almost thirty yards right into a wall! Stung quite a bit, I'll say that much, but what I learned was..."

Kail opened her eyes. The sun was much further across the sky now, and she guessed it to be mid-afternoon. She yawned as she sat up, and noticed the others in varying stages of wakefulness.

"...was..."

"What happened?" she asked the Gnome.

"Oh. You were listening so intently that you closed your eyes and lay down for a bit. Made some funny laughing noises at the right times too. Almost thought you were snoring." Grobnar's face held such innocent hope that she couldn't bring herself to crush it.

"Ah, right. Is this the path to Old Owl Well?" she asked before he could start again.

"Well I don't really know. And by that I mean yes. I just didn't have my head on travelling, so it'll take me a few moments to remember where I am, and where the... well of owls is. It would probably be faster for me to show you than to tell you. Do you think I could maybe... come with you? For a while?" She quickly closed her eyes so that she wouldn't have to see his pleading, puppy-dog expression.

"I don't know, Grobnar. We lead pretty dangerous lives. Are you any good in a fight?" she asked.

"Any good in a fight?! I've chronicled everything from nobleman duels to battalions marching through the Plains of the Dead! And through it all, no-one told the tale better than I, Grobnar Gnomehands, chronicler of the doomed!"

"Doomed? I think we fit that description," she said wryly. "I'll personally introduce you to Qara." _If she ever wakes up._

"Excellent!" Grobnar cheered. "Oh, you won't regret this! I mean, too many times."

o - o - o - o - o

Qara stared at the Greycloak soldiers. Half of them were boys, younger even than her. The rest were old men who looked like they would keel over with heart-attacks if somebody jumped out at them and shouted 'boo'. In fact, she was half tempted to try it.

Not far ahead, at the front of their small precession, Kail was talking quietly with Grobnar. The two bards had been nattering like old women ever since the Gnome had joined their group. She didn't see why Kail bothered letting the Gnome tag along. His singing was terrible, and everything he cooked tasted like ground-up beetles. It was probably some sort of Gnomish delicacy, but it made _her_ want to vomit.

A wolf-whistle came from one of the Greycloaks, and another shouted "Hey red!". She glared around at the men, trying to discern the identity of the caller or whistler, but they were all seemingly intent on their tasks. It wasn't fair! Kail didn't have to put up with this! The bloody bard just walked into a room or a camp full of soldiers and somehow managed to get a small measure of respect without even _doing_ anything. Nobody treated _her_ like a piece of property to be man-handled. Nobody pinched _her_ behind in the Flagon. And yet she, Qara, a sorceress able to wield more power than all of the mages of the academy combined, had to put up with implications that she was a tavern whore!

And worse -- it was the little things, the other things, that really got her angry. The little acts of petty, malicious spite that made her want to burn the entire tavern to the ground. She was _sure_ that the bloody ranger was telling his mangy wolf to go walking through mud before coming into the Flagon. She couldn't count the times she'd had to scrub at muddy pawprints on the floorboards like some common washer-woman, while he and his damn wolf sat there watching her with smug, self-satisfying smiles. She wished, so desperately, that she could just wipe that smile off Bishop's face... but she knew that she had the disadvantage.

Kail, in Qara's position, would probably just have smacked the ranger. Hard. Qara could do that, of course, but... she would be the first to admit that she wasn't exactly the most physically robust of women. If she smacked Bishop, she had no doubts that he would smack her right back. Of course, she could stop him from doing that... by incinerating him. But she couldn't do _that_ without burning down the Flagon, possibly with herself still inside. And if she killed him, or anybody else, Duncan would make sure the Watch knew who was to blame. So, for now, she had to grin and bear the insults. But one day she would make him account for every muddy pawprint, every kicked-over bucket of water, every disgusting leer...

She walked into the back of Elanee and glared at the Elf before noticing that everybody had stopped walking. Kail, with that stupid crow perched on her arm, was approaching a Dwarf -- probably the one in charge here, as he seemed to be the only one who didn't look dejected or confused -- and Qara moved in closer so she could hear the conversation. She wasn't the only one.

"I want those walls up by evening, no excuses. The orcs aren't going to stop attacking just because we need to catch our breath," said the Dwarf.

"But Sir! The men are having a hard time finding the materials we need," said a Greycloak.

"You're telling me they can't find any **stones**?! We're in the middle of the blasted mountains! Unless **you'd** like to report to Nasher that we're overrun because we couldn't find **rocks**, I suggest you drive some sense into your men and get that wall built."

"Yessir, I'll see to it Sir." The man turned away, marching stiffly to a group of other 'Cloaks.

"I tell you, I've lost years off my life trying to get this rabble fit for service," the Dwarf ranted at the skies. Then his eyes fell on Kail. "And who in the hells are you supposed to be? I wasn't expecting reinforcements."

"I'm looking for the leader of this expedition," said Kail, in what Qara thought of as her 'I don't need to be answering your questions, but I'll do so anyway just because I feel like it' voice.

"I am in charge of this... _army_." The Dwarf almost spat the word. "My name is Callum. Commander Callum, to you.

"My name is Kail. We're with the city Watch. Captain Brelaina sent us to escort the Waterdeep emissary back to Neverwinter."

"Issani?" asked Callum. "He's not here. My best scouts are out there right now, trying to find any sign of him. As soon was I hear something, you'll be the first to know." The bard nodded as he spoke.

"The emissary had no idea he'd be entering a battleground, did he?"

"That couldn't be helped. This campaign has been planned for months, and to be honest, we weren't expecting to be needing a new Waterdeep emissary right now," Callum replied hotly.

"Why is this place so important?" Qara smiled at Kail's question. At least she wasn't the only one who thought this place was just a worthless pile of stones out in the middle of nowhere.

"Not much of a history student, are you?" Kail narrowed her eyes at Callum. She didn't like the implication that she was ignorant. "This well is the only source of water for three days in either direction, and it is of strategic importance as a trade route. The orcs have held it for the past decade, and now we're taking it back from them."

"And were just supposed to wait here until..."

"The orcs are attacking! Sound the alarm!" cried someone from atop one of the small defence towers.

"Oh, not again," sighed Callum. Then he turned to the soldiers around them and drew his weapon. "Greycloaks to arms! For Neverwinter!" he shouted. Then he rushed forward, with Khelgar and Kail on his heels.

The attack was pathetic, barely even testing her abilities. She smiled in satisfaction every time one of the orcs fell to her spells, and even managed to lightly singe a Greycloak who was a little slow in getting out of her way. That would teach them to whistle at her!

"I wish I knew who was out there keeping the orcs occupied," said Callum as he finished off the last of the invaders.

"Someone else is attacking the orcs?" Kail asked as she recovered her knives from orc corpses. Qara smiled at that. At least _she_ didn't have to go around picking at dead bodies and getting covered with revolting blood. And that the bard preferred to fight with knives than to use the power inside her -- the power that Qara knew almost rivalled her own -- merely showed how weak-willed she was.

"Yes, and it's giving us time to rebuild our defences. I don't know who it is, but the orcs call him 'Katalmach'," Callum explained.

"Someone who doesn't play the odds doesn't last very long in my experience," said Neeshka. "Well, except me."

"It is odd that even orc trackers couldn't find him. Or that he would risk stirring up so many tribes in this region," Elanee added.

"Maybe this Kettle-head person simply lacks basic maths skills," said Grobnar. He held up his fingers in front of him. "You see, if we were to face three hundred orcs, the odds, well if you carry the two... might be..."

"That isn't a name that orcs give lightly!" said Khelgar, in apparent awe. She sniffed derisively. Who cared about what name orcs gave to someone?

"And it won't be his name for much longer if he keeps it up. It's only a matter of time before the orcs unite and hunt him down. And if that happens before our defences are built up, we may be overrun too."

"Scout returning!" called a voice from above. Everybody turned their attention to a young man who was approaching from the west.

"Pathfinder Willam reporting, Sir!" he said after he had saluted Callum. The Dwarf nodded for him to continue. "Sir, I've found the remains of Issani's escort. It looks like it was hit hard by orcs, but the trail has been cleared away."

"Well, there you have it," said Callum, turning to Kail. "As much as I would like a few extra seasoned hands around here, you had best go and start searching for the emissary. Hmm, if I were you, I'd start at the Bonegnasher lair."

"Bonegnashers? They're still around?" asked Khelgar. "They're hard to kill."

"Sounds like a well-mannered fellow. Judging from the name," Neeshka said wryly.

"My, Bonegnasher _is_ an interesting name. I wonder what he would've done to earn it," Grobnar mused.

"Yes. They're not the largest clan, but their chief, Yaisog, is one of the oldest. And he's clever, for an orc. If you can back him into a corner, he may talk," said Callum.

"Which is the largest clan?" Kail asked.

"That would be the Eyegougers, but I don't know where their lair is. That's a shame, because Logram, their chief, has been organising the assaults on our camp. If I knew where he was, I could send somebody to stop him."

"We'll keep an eye out," said Kail, rolling her shoulders.

"One other thing. If you can find the madman who's been attacking the orcs out there, let him know that I'd like to have a little chat with him." Kail grinned, gave Callum a low bow, and led the way out of the Greycloak camp. As they left, Qara heard another whistle. She spun around, glaring at the soldiers, but they all appeared engrossed with their work. She narrowed her eyes at them and followed the rest of her 'friends'. One day she would make them _all_ regret their treatment of her.


	22. Illusions

_22. Illusions_

"Hey Grobnar, I need a word that rhymes with 'Lathander'," said Kail. She ducked beneath a low stone archway, keeping both hands on her weapons. This cave was a troll den. It was the first time she had ever seen a troll, and she was quickly coming to hate them.

"Hmm. Salamander?" said Grobnar. "Asunder?

"Bystander," suggested Elanee from futher back in the procession.

"No, none of those are right. I guess I'll have to re-word it," she sighed.

"Re-word what, lass?" asked Khelgar.

"A song I'm working on," she explained.

"Maybe if you sing what you have so far, we'll be able to think of a word for you," said Neeshka. Kail gave her a look of pure horror.

"I can't sing a song before it's finished! For a start, I don't have a tune for it yet. I was actually hoping for Grobnar's help with that."

"Oh, really?" asked the Gnome, his eyes lighting up. "I can hardly wait! Perhaps I could even provide backing vocals!"

"Perhaps," she smiled, and Qara let out a groan.

"There's a chest over here!" called Neeshka, and they all hurried over to see. It wasn't as much a chest as it was a crate, and it didn't even have a lock on it. The thief checked it over for traps, and then pried open the lid, and the group peered in at a collection of small glass spheres.

"Mind if I take a look? Little dangerous glass globes in carefully packed crates are a specialty of mine." said Grobnar, reaching down and picking one up. "Ah, yes. I've heard of these. Never seen one used, though - at least not safely. They're quite rare."

"What are they?" asked Elanee.

"I believe these are known as 'blastglobes'. They've been used by the Greycloaks of Neverwinter for quite some time," he replied.

"And how do they work?" Kail asked.

"Oh, they use a simple manual projectile motion typically with a parabolic attack vector to concuss the target - in layman's terms, you throw them at your target and they explode. Both the globe and the target."  
"So you basically mean they're a portable Qara, without the whining?" asked Neeshka.

"Very funny tail-for-brains. I wonder if it will sound as funny if you say it whilst on fire," said the sorceress.

"Grobnar, do you think these blastglobes could be used to clear the blocked pass?" she asked before the fire-works started. The path to the Bonegnasher lair had been blocked by a landslide, probably as a result of the use of orcish war horns. They had come exploring this small cave network in the hopes of finding a way around the blockage.

"Why, certainly. They should do quite nicely, in fact," he replied.

"Good. Bring the whole box, but for Shaundakul's sake, be _careful_ with them," she told him.

"Have no fear! 'Careful' is my middle name! Grobnar Careful Gnomehands. I think my parents chose it to stave off misfortune, as it were. You see, one of my uncles was given the rather unfortunate middle name of 'careless', and it just so happens that one day he..."

"If ye don't stop talking, Gnome, ye'll bring the whole damn mountain down on us!" said Khelgar.

"Oh, I do apologise, Sir Khelgar. I shall try to restrain my enthusiasm whilst we're beneath mountains." Grobnar bent down to pick up the crate, and then followed them silently out of the cave.

o - o - o - o - o

Deep inside another, more extensive network of caves, the Comrades Six mercenary group faced what was left of the Bonegnasher clan; Yaisog Bonegnasher, and two of his guards.

"You have invaded my home and slaughtered my clan. Now you will learn how an orc warlord fights," said Yaisog. He brandished an axe and rushed towards them with his guards close behind. Kail ducked and rolled as Elanee, shifted into bear form, rushed at one of the guards. Neeshka and Grobnar took out the second guard with their bows, and Khelgar closed in with Yaisog himself. Qara prepared a missile spell for the chieftan, and Kail realised that she didn't seem to be needed. So she put her back to the wall and assessed her companions.

Grobnar seemed to be shaping up well. He wasn't by any means a brilliant fighter, but he was a decent shot with his shortbow. Though not as accurate as Neeshka, at least he didn't hit any of his allies by mistake. The same could not be said for Qara. She hurled a fireball at the orcish guard, and Elanee only just moved in time to avoid being burnt. Kail was becoming increasingly aware that Qara was a liability. On the opposite end of the scale, the ever-dependable Khelgar was parrying blows with Yaisog. As the shorter of the pair he had a slight advantage, but he was also a little slower, not able to move as quickly because of the restrictiveness of the plate armour which Cormick had allowed him to keep.

Without warning, their fortunes changed. Yaisog swung his axe at Khelgar, who tried to dodge the blow. But he was not able to move in time, and the axe caught him across his right shoulder at a point where the plates of his armour interlocked. The axe slipped beneath the plates and came out dripping blood, and Yaisog kicked Khelgar in the chest, sending him flying backwards against the wall of the cave.

"Elanee! Help Khelgar!" she shouted, and rushed forward to keep Yaisog occupied before the orc could finish off Khelgar. From the corner of her eye she saw Elanee shambling over to the unconscious Dwarf as she shifted out of bear form, but she quickly focused her attention back to Yaisog as he swung the axe at her. Realising that he needed room to swing his weapon, she stepped closer to him, inside his defences, and began quickly slashing with her daggers, aiming for tendons to disable him quickly.

"Enough!" Yaisog roared in pain. "I yield. You have beaten me." Breathing hard, Kail stepped back and allowed Neeshka to get a sight on the warlord.

"Very well. You will answer my questions," she said, sheathing her daggers.

"And you will allow me to live?"

"I'll consider it," she said calmly. She had no intentions of letting him live. He had almost killed Khelgar, and if they allowed him to go free he would only carry warning of their presence to neighbouring orc clans. Or he might return with greater numbers and hunt them down. "Where is the Waterdeep emissary?"

"Ah, I knew that our kidnapping of the Human would not go unpunished," said Yaisog. "He is further back in this cave."

"Why did you kidnap him?" she asked.

"Because Logram Eyegouger ordered it. It is he who controls the orcs in this region."

"Where can I find Logram's lair?"

"I do not know," said Yaisog. "He always came to me with orders, not the other way around."

"Then you are of no further use to me," she said, and nodded at Neeshka. The Tiefling released her bowstring and Yaisog fell to the floor, dead before he hit the ground. Then, as Neeshka stepped forward to search the dead orc's body, Kail hurried to Khelgar. He was was conscious, now, being helped into a sitting position by Elanee. As she approached, he rubbed his head and gave her a small, guilty smile.

"Dunno how that happened, lass, but I see ye dealt with him just fine yerselves. At least tell me that ye got some information out of him before the string-happy Tiefling over there put an arrow in his head."

"The emissary is safe. Allegedly," she said, crouching down beside him. "How's the shoulder?"

"I'll live, lass. Did I mention that I hate orcs?"

"Once or twice," she smiled, and, together with Elanee, they hauled Khelgar to his feet.

"Well, this guy has nothing," said Neeshka, standing up from the corpse. "But I heard movement down this corridor."

"Hnh. Let me go first. If it's more orcs, I want first swing at them!"

"Are you sure you're okay, Khelgar?" Kail asked.

"Aye." He hefted his axe. "It'll take more than a stinking orc to finish off Khelgar Ironfist!" Kail let him lead the way, then followed him down the narrowing corridor with Qara on her heels. Neeshka was behind the sorceress, and Elanee brought up the rear.

"Please don't hurt me!" a male voice called out from in front of them. Peering into the dim blocked passage, Kail saw a man in dusty clothing who quailed at the sight of them. "Who are you?"

"Tell me who you are first," she replied.

"I am an emissary, from Waterdeep. I was captured by these vile orcs and held here in this cave as a prisoner."

"Your name," she asked, twirling one of her knives around her fingers. The man watched it with an open mouth before replying.

"Issani."

"Good enough. We've been sent here to escort you to Neverwinter."

"Well, now that you've slain my captors, I should have no problem making my way there alone," said the man, brightening instantly.

"Alone with us," she smiled.

"Oh, but I wouldn't want to put you out! You've already done so much, and I really do travel faster alone. In fact, had I been alone, I doubt I would have been captured in the first place," he said insistently.

"We're escorting you to Neverwinter, and we can do it the easy way, or the hard way. The easy way is we all go together, as one big happy dysfunctional family. You could be the uncle who smells faintly of stewed vegetables and orc urine. Or we can do it the hard way. That means we knock you out, tie you up, and drag you back to Neverwinter via the scenic route. Your choice," she said.

"Very well, if you insist. I just hope you can keep up with me."

"Don't worry about us," she said, sparing another brief smile for him as she slipped the knife back into her bracer.

"I don't trust this guy," Neeshka whispered in her ear. Kail nodded.

"Neither do I," she whispered back. "But it should be easy enough to prove his identity." She addressed Issani. "Do you have your credentials?"

"No. I assumed you have them. The orcs took them from me when they captured me," he said.

"Then perhaps you can tell me the name of your contact in Neverwinter," she said.

"Ah, of course. Is he amongst you?" Issani asked, craning his neck to examine her companions.

"I think you mean _she_," said Kail. The emissary narrowed his eyes at her, then gave her a feral grin. His entire demeanour changed, and he stood a little taller and straighter.

"Well done. I have enjoyed our little talk, but now it is time for you to die." As they watched, Issani's features... rippled. His image turned into that of a wizard, and he raised his hands to cast a spell." Khelgar leapt forward as he brandished his axe, but Qara was quicker. Missiles zipped past Kail's head, impacting the wizard who crumpled beneath the force of the blows.

"So. Not Issani," Khelgar grunted.

"It would seem not," said Elanee.

"What a colossal waste of my time," said Qara. She made a show of examining her fingernails. "We're no closer to knowing where the emissary is now than we were when we came to this dismal place."

"It's not been a waste of time," said Kail, watching Neeshka pick through the wizard's clothing. "We've learnt that the emissary is not here, and that Logram Eyegouger did indeed orchestrate the capture of the true emissary, and we have also killed an orcish warlord, thereby weakening the orcs' presence in this area."

"I dare say that Commander Callum will be pleased to hear it!" said Grobnar cheerfully. Kail gave the Gnome a smile.

"Then let's go and tell him the good news, shall we?"


	23. Katalmach

_23. Katalmach_

"Well that was entertaining," said Khelgar, swinging his axe to behead a fallen orc. "Looks like we caught them by surprise for a change." Kail gave him a quick grin. They were half way back to Old Owl Well, and the ambush had been a poor one. The canyon was littered with the bodies of orcs. Suddenly, the air was filled with banging, the rocks beneath her feet vibrating as if the mountains themselves had a pulse. Then orcs began to appear all around them, beating on drums as they stamped their feet.

"Just like orcs! They don't know when to quit!" Khelgar shouted of the din.

"Loser buys drinks when we get back to the Flagon?" she shouted back, slipping her daggers into her hands. Behind her she heard the rest of her companions readying themselves once again for the fight. Khelgar nodded, turned his attention to the orcs pouring down the mountain sides, then blinked in surprise. Ahead of them, on the path further down the valley, several armoured figures had rushed forwards and engaged the orcs.

"Wh- Hey! Those are our orcs!" Khelgar shouted, running towards the battle.

"Alright! For once I think someone is helping us out!" said Qara. She immediately loosed several fiery projectiles while the orcs' attention was occupied. Kail rolled her eyes at Neeshka, then followed Khelgar into the fray.

o - o - o - o - o

Part of Casavir's mind registered that something new was happening. The rest of his mind focused on blocking orc weapons as he hacked at them up close. He ignored his aching muscles, the way his armour chafed slightly at his skin, how desperately his lungs sucked in fresh air... all that mattered was blocking and striking. Every blow that fell upon his shield caused his arm to tremble with the force, but his own weapon found its own marks, the blunt hammer a deadly force in his strong, sure grip.

He startled slightly in surprise when he heard music; somebody played a light song on a stringed instrument, and the melody lifted his spirits. His body felt refreshed, and he attacked once again with renewed vigour. Slightly behind him he heard Katriona breathing heavily as she tried to keep pace with him. She had watched his back in every encounter in these mountains and never once complained. She was a lieutenant that any commander would be proud of... and yet she looked so sad whenever he told her that.

When the last orc fell he finally allowed his body to rest. He lowered his hammer but did not yet put it away as he stepped around the corpses to examine the newcomers. It was a motley assortment of people in front of him, and he immediately pegged them as adventurers. A Dwarf, a Gnome, an Elf, a Tiefling and two Human women... what else could they be? One of the women, the Elf, was followed closely by a badger, so he guessed her to be a druid. The shorter of the two Human women was more of a curiosity; when she let out a low whistle a crow alighted on her arm from a nearby tree. Yet she did not have the look of one who served nature, nor did he believe her to be a wizard, and the crow her familiar.

The others were slightly less difficult to place. The Dwarf was obviously a seasoned fighter. His skin and his armour were both battle-scarred, and he handled his weapon with ease and familiarity. The taller Human -- he had taken her for a woman at first, but now saw she was little more than a girl -- had obvious magical talent. As he watched she hurled a fireball at a twitching orcish corpse. Similarly, there was no mistaking the Tiefling's profession. Her dark clothing and choice of weapon would have been a dead giveaway on their own, but her pockets and pouches jingled metallically; coins and lock-picks. He wasn't surprised in the slightest. Last of the odd little group was the Gnome. The short man was idly plucking a lute, obviously the source of the uplifting music he had heard in the midst of battle.

Of the newcomers, all but the wizard and the Gnome eyed him warily; the young woman merely looked around in disdain at the blood-soaked corpses, whilst the Gnome had a faraway look on his face. "He's a Paladin. Their auras always make my skin itch." The whisper came from the Tiefling, aimed at the short woman with the crow. The shorter woman gave the Tiefling a reassuring pat on the arm before stepping forward slightly in greeting.

"The Sword Mountains are a dangerous place, now more than ever with the orc tribes gathered behind Logram's banner," he said before the woman could speak. She quirked an eyebrow, assessing him with her cool, grey eyes.

"We had things under control," she said.

"So I noticed," he replied. "I thank you, then, for allowing us to take part in the battle."

"We were doing just fine without you," said the Dwarf. Casavir turned to address him.

"I am Casavir, and my men and I have been hunting this group of orcs for days."

"You're the one who's been harassing the orcs?" she woman asked in surprise. He nodded.

"We've been hunting the orcs here for many months. Recently, we have stepped up our attacks, however. When Neverwinter finally moved to retake Old Owl Well, we redoubled our efforts. With the orcs being attacked from two fronts it prevents them from massing to retake the well." He paused to examine the woman further. Her brown, windswept hair fell to her shoulders, brushing against her plain white shirt. Her brown trousers were likewise plain, but the belt at her waist held a variety of pouches. She wore a brown woolen cloak under a sturdy backpack, and a pair of daggers were sheathed at her hips. Her leather boots looked soft and supple, and she was entirely devoid of jewelry. Her gaze, when she noticed him studying her, was one of aloof indifference. "I'm curious, why have you ventured into the mountains? Surely you understood the risk in coming here?" The woman narrowed her eyes slightly at him, and raised her chin in a small gesture of angry defiance. A strange reaction to what was surely an innocent question.

"We're looking for a missing Waterdeep Emissary," she said. He felt his blood go a little colder at her words.

"_Missing?_ The orcs have grown bold, then, if they now interfere directly. This explains many things," he mused, more to himself than to her. "Recent orc movements now make much more sense to me."

"You believe they captured the Waterdeep Emissary?" the woman asked.

"It is possible. But if so, they've certainly gone out of their way to keep it a secret," he confirmed. "My men and I came across the remains of an orc raid on a heavily-armed column of troops. I was struck by the ferocity of the slaughter,"... and a slaughter it **had** been... "and that the orcs would dare strike at a well-armed and disciplined fighting force."

"That must have been the escort for the Emissary," she said, though her gaze was turned inwards.

"I believe you are correct, considering what we encountered next." As he spoke, the memory danced in his vision. "We caught up with the orc force and charged. Normally we would have routed them. This group, however... they reacted to us with military precision. While their rear guard delayed us, the rest continued to move quickly in an organised fashion, all clustered around a single point. They may have been guarding your emissary."

"Did your forces pursue them?" she asked. He shook his head grimly.

"We could not afford more losses. Instead, I lead a small group and followed the retreating orcs as best we could. At first I thought we had lost them, but then one of our scouts found the hidden trail to their cave." The woman rolled her shoulders, working tension out of her neck. Around her, the others of her group were silent, still watching him warily, though they did not seem frightened at the prospect of encountering Logram. They were either very sure of their skills, or very oblivious to the danger presented by the orc warlord.

"Tell me where the path is, and I'll take care of the orcs," the woman said. Again he shook his head.

"Our soldiers know the mountains well, but even they would have missed it, if not by chance. If you intend to enter the stronghold of Logram, it is to the north. I can lead the way," he offered.

"I can find the way myself," she said with a hint of a smile.

"You probably could," he said. "But by then it could be too late. I can get you there faster." The woman studied him for a moment. The crow fidgeted on her raised arm, but she ignored it.

"Excuse me a moment. I would like to speak to my friends. In private," she said at last. He gave her a brief nod and she turned to her companions. She gave them a few words, and three of them spoke; the Dwarf, the Elf and the Tiefling. The latter also gesticulated wildly. Obviously she did not approve of his offer. The other two, the red-haired young woman and the Gnome, were silent, and he wondered who was truly in charge. At first he had taken the Dwarf as their leader -- he appeared to be the eldest, and obviously the most experienced-- but he seemed to defer to the woman with the crow. Yet if she truly led them, why would she ask their opinions about him? It seemed a strange chain of command.

"We would welcome your assistance," said a voice beside him. He startled; he had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't even seen her approach. She watched him through her stone-grey eyes that seemed to sparkle in amusement.

"We have lost some men but I will assemble who I can and join you on the assault," said Katriona. His lieutenant stepped up behind him, her hand hovering by her weapon as if she intended to fight Logram right there and then. The orc-tooth necklace she wore, trophies from their hunting, jingled as she moved.

"No, Katriona," he said, turning to face the tall, blonde woman. "We have already lost too many, and a massed attack on Logram will only cost us more. I will be going on alone."

Emotions flickered across her face; panic and fear, and surprise. She suppressed them an instant later and stepped forward to address him quietly. "Casavir, Sir, we kept you from this once. I think it's best if..."

"Please, it is important that you do as I ask. Take the survivors and fall back to the Greycloaks' camp. Do what you can to help them, and keep the pressure on the orcs," he said, a little more heatedly than he intended. "If we cannot defeat Logram, then he will come after them in full force, and the Greycloaks _must_ be warned."

"So after all this time avoiding the Neverwinter forces, **now** you want me to stride right into their camp?" she asked incredulously. "Look, Casavir, let me go with you. There is no need to keep doing this alone. Let us help you." Though her face was still, her eyes were pleading, hopeful. She didn't understand that he _had_ to do this alone. The risk was too great, and he would not ask her, or any of their men, to take the chance.

"Is there a problem?" asked the woman with the crow.

"You have your orders, Katriona. We'll meet you back at the Greycloaks camp, after we have dealt with Logram." He turned slightly away from her, letting her know that she had been dismissed.

"Very well." Her voice was tight. "Good luck, Sir."

"Are you ready to take on Logram?" he asked the woman with the crow. She gave him a grin and a low bow, topped with a flourish of her cloak.

"Lead the way," she said.

o - o - o - o - o

"I bet he doesn't even know where he's going," Neeshka complained quietly. Kail blew at a strand of hair that was falling into her eyes, but said nothing. It was their second day of travel with Casavir, their second day of being led surely northwards by the paladin. He set a fast pace, but not so fast that the slower members of the group -- usually Qara -- would fall behind.

"I'm going to talk to him," Kail said suddenly.

"Rather you than me," smiled Neeshka. Kail quickened her pace until she drew level with the paladin.

"Casavir?" He turned his head to her, his bright blue eyes, so pale that they were almost white, giving her his full attention. She took a deep breath. _He would probably be handsome, if he ever smiled_, she thought to herself. "Why were you and your men avoiding the Greycloaks? You had to know that Commander Callum wanted to speak to you." A shadow of sadness passed across his face, and he turned his attention back to the trail ahead.

"Callum and I were friends, once," he said.

"Once? But not anymore?"

"When I left Neverwinter to come to Old Owl Well, I did not part on the best of terms. There were some who questioned my actions in doing so, and I thought it better to avoid Callum, in case he too doubted my motives."

"Why did you leave Neverwinter?" she asked. His brow creased into a light frown.

"It is not something I wish to speak of right now," he said. "Suffice it to say, I came to Old Owl Well because the people there have been living in fear of the orcs for too long. It is past time that somebody assisted them, and until now, Neverwinter's concerns have been mainly with events inside Neverwinter's walls. If it wasn't for the missing emissary, and the desire for new trade routes, you, and Callum and his Greycloaks, would not even be here."

"Then the people of Old Owl Well are lucky that a paladin has deigned to help them. Not every village is so fortunate." He shot her a look of surprise at the terseness of her words. Well, what did he expect? If he thought she would be sympathetic to the people of Old Owl Well, he could think again. The folk of her own village had been living with the dangers of the Mere and the lizardmen since long before she was born. Nobody in West Harbor sat on their thumbs waiting for noble warriors to show up and help them out. No, if they did that, West Harbor would have been lost long ago.

"I am well aware that change must start somewhere, my lady," said Casavir, his voice taking on a slightly lecuring tone. "I am only one man, however, and I know that I cannot help everybody. Old Owl Well seemed a good place to start; the people are in need, capable but leaderless. I didn't come here because I deigned their cause worthy of a paladin's attention, nor did I come to have people sing my praises or to make a hero of myself -- paladins do not need any thanks to do what is right. I came here because I felt that with a little help, the people of Old Owl Well could learn to work together to beat back the orcs once and for all. I am sorry if that offends you."

"I'm sorry for snapping," she said, feeling her cheeks heat a little. She hadn't been reprimanded since she left Daeghun, and her father would probably approve of Casavir putting her feet back on the floor. He watched her for a moment before his face softened a little.

"No apology is necessary," he said at last. "I understand that you are concerned about the emissary. Do not worry, we will do everything within our power to save him."

She could have laughed! He thought she was concerned about some emissary that she had never even met? Her main concern was that if she did not bring the emissary back alive, Brelaina would not allow her into the Blacklake district. Speaking of which, if the women didn't grant her permission soon, she was half inclined to take up Neeshka's suggestion of just climbing the damn wall. She realised that Casavir was watching her expectantly. "How close are we to Logram?"

"We should be there within a matter of hours. Are you having second thoughts about entering his lair?"

"Not at all," she replied. "There's a job that needs doing, and I'm going to do it." He nodded silently, and turned his attention back to the trail as she fell back to walk beside Neeshka again.

o - o - o - o - o

"There it is," Casavir whispered, and watched as Kail swept her eyes over the scene in front of them. The narrow canyon was devoid of plant and animal life, littered only with boulders and frost-shattered rocks. At the far end was a cave entrance, and a guard stood on either side.

"I don't like it," she said.

"Nor do I," he agreed. The defences were too poor. Logram _had_ to be expecting him to show up sooner or later. This had 'trap' written all over it.

"Khelgar," she turned to the Dwarf. "You, Elanee and Grobnar approach from the opposite side of the canyon, and stay as close to the wall as possible. Neeshka, Casavir, Qara and I will approach from this side and do the same." Khelgar nodded and led the other two away. It was strange how the battle-hardened warrior acquiesced to Kail's suggestions without complaint. Still, he seemed to have a great deal or respect for the young bard, and obviously considered her a good friend.

"Perhaps I could lead the way down the canyon," he offered as she surveyed the orcs at the mouth of the cave.

"I'm perfectly capable of leading the way," she replied tersely.

"Of course. I did not mean to imply otherwise. But if the orcs target me, that will leave you, Neeshka and Qara free to target them at will," he said, silently thanking Khelgar for his words of advice earlier. _"Laddie," _he had said, _"just don't tell her what to do, or she's likely to do the opposite. Suggest whatever ye like, but ye best have a damned good argument for it."_

"Alright then," she said. "When Khelgar's in place, lead the way.

He moved in front of Kail and, when Khelgar nodded and hefted his axe, moved slowly down the canyon, keeping close to the wall and crouched in a low profile. They made it halfway down the narrow valley before all hell broke loose. From atop the ridges on either side of the canyon, orc archers appeared and loosed a volley of arrows. He threw up his shield just in time to avoid being skewered, and frantically sought for a boulder to take shelter behind.

Even in the midst of the chaos, he found himself impressed by how efficiently his new companions dealt with the orcish threat. Neeshka, and Grobnar on the other side of the canyon floor, took shots at the orcs above before ducking back to cover, while Kail threw knives with deadly precision. Bolts of lightning shot down from the sky around Elanee, and fiery projectiles flew unerringly from Qara's hands and hit their attackers. Khelgar, bereft of any missile weapons, was hurling loose stones from the floor at the orcs, and was a surprisingly accurate shot. Casavir himself felt useless.

Two cries of pain caught his attention, and from the corner of his eye he saw two of the women fall to the floor. The shaft of an arrow was sticking out from Neeshka's leg, but she was already pulling herself to the safety of a large boulder as Qara covered her retreat. Kail had not been so lucky; caught in mid-throw, an arrow had pierced her shoulder several inches above her heart. He slung his shield over his back and crouched down over her, holding her down when she tried to struggle to her feet.

"Stay still, or you may bleed to death," he said more calmly than he felt. He had already lost so many friends to Logram's orcs, he would do everything within his power to stop another life being claimed. He felt several blows impact the shield on his back, but ignored them.

"Forget about me, go stop those orcs," she managed to say between gasps of pain. "More just came out of the cave, and they have axes." He risked a quick glance over his shoulder and noticed that she was right. Orcs were advancing towards them.

"Khelgar can handle them." He would have to.

"Then go and help Neeshka," she said, but he ignored her protests as he broke off the arrow shaft and cut through the material of her shirt.

"Neeshka is not as badly injured as you are," he explained. "I'm going to cut the arrowhead out of you, and then I'm going to heal you. This is going to hurt. Are you ready?"

"The battlefield is no place for surgery," she chuckled to herself, then her eyes rolled up inside her head and she lost consciousness. He quickly went to work, cutting through her flesh to loose the arrow embedded in her muscle. When he finally managed to pull out the wickedly barbed arrow head he immediately pressed his hands above the wound, and felt her flesh knit itself together. Then he examined his work. Her skin was smooth, with no sign that she had ever been shot. He gently pressed above where she had been pierced, making sure that the muscle had also healed itself. He frowned when one of his fingers felt rougher skin, and he lowered her shirt slightly to examine the top of a long scar that seemed to run down her chest. It must have been a very old injury -- her skin was as healed as it was ever going to be, and the scar itself had been unaffected by his healing. A shadow fell across him, and he looked up at Qara who wore a bemused expression on her face.

"If you've finished ogling our unconscious leader, I think Neeshka could use a little of your paladin healing," she said. He opened his mouth to defend his honour but the sorceress had already turned and was walking back to a boulder where Neeshka lay groaning in agony. A quick survey of the battlefield told him that all of the orcs had been dispatched. Grobnar was even singing a song about it. When he was content that Kail was no longer in danger he made his way over to Neeshka and began the healing process once again.


	24. The Lair

_24. The Lair_

"All I'm saying is, the next time I say leave me and kill the orcs, I want you to leave me and kill the orcs. We tend to injuries _after_ battle, not _during_ it. Understand?"

"I understand, but the situation was not that simple. It was no superficial wound you received; the arrow pierced your muscle and narrowly missed one of your main arteries, and you were trying to move, which was making it worse. Besides, your companions were more than capable of finishing off the rest of the orcs. You can rest assured that if your injury had been less severe, or the orcs greater in number, I would not have hesistated to leave you and join in the fray."

Kail sighed. Casavir's logic was infallible, but she had become used to calling the shots, used to the others listening to her, and he, quite frankly, didn't. Oh, he was never rude, it was just that he did what he thought was right, even if it wasn't what she wanted him to do. The previous day, after he had healed her, instead of waking her so that they could press on into Logram's lair, he had convinced the others to make camp so that she could get some 'much needed rest'.

Now that they were inside the lair she had taken her usual place at the head of the procession, but Casavir was right behind her, so that they could talk quietly as they walked. So far they had met only a little resistance, far less than the paladin had obviously been expecting, and it seemed to make him nervous. Or what passed for nervous amongst paladins, which was only marginally less confident than usual. As she wondered if paladins were born with an aura of command, or whether they had it beaten into them by their holy superiors, she opened a side door and too late recognised a warning growl from the room. A pack of huge white wolves stood facing the open doorway, each one of them growled menacingly.

"Elanee?" she asked without moving a muscle. The Elf quickly slipped past her and calmly walked to what was probably the pack leader, making soothing sounds in her throat.

"They say that there have been several Humans here. Dark ones, whom they did not like the smell of, and one who was brought by the orcs and smelt strongly of fear," said Elanee.

"That must be the emissary," said Casavir.

"They also say that most of the orcs are on a level below this one," Elanee continued as she stroked the wolf. Neeshka let out a groan.

"I _hate_ caves with levels. They're the worst kind. Everything you find on the level below is meaner and hungrier than the level above," she complained.

"Hey, we Dwarves build down in levels!" said Khelgar.

"I rest my case," Neeshka said wryly.

"Everybody stand back and give these wolves room to leave," said Kail, pushing herself back against a wall.

"You know," said Grobnar, "they really are quite big, aren't they? I wonder if one would mind standing still for a moment so I can measure it. I had this sort of design for a saddle that..."

"No, Grobnar!" she replied, grabbing the small bard by the shirt and hauling him back against the wall before he could brandish his tape measure. He shot a sad look at the departing wolves' backs.

"We must be getting close to the emissary now," said Khelgar, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "I tell ye, as soon as we've got him back t' Neverwinter, I'm ordering the biggest tankard of ale that yer uncle can manage."

"Ale?" asked Casavir.

"My Uncle Duncan owns a tavern. The Sunken Flagon, in the Docks district. It's a sort of home away from home," Kail explained. She craned her head around the doorway and stepped out into the corridor. This place was like a bloody maze!

"Ah yes, I've heard of it, though I've never actually been there myself," said Casavir.

"Not holy enough for you?" Neeshka smiled innocently.

"It's more that I've never had the opportunity to visit it," he said, and Kail thought she detected just the slightest hint of irritation in his voice. Very, very slight. "Perhaps when the emissary is safe I will join you in your celebrations."

"You are more than welcome to, of course," said Elanee. Kail blinked in surprise at the Elf. It was an unusual statement for somebody who didn't even like being inside Neverwinter, much less inside her uncle's tavern. Elanee mainly gave her a cool, blank stare.

"Why, that sounds positively splendid!" said Grobnar. "A chance to soak up a little of the culture, perhaps learn a new song or five, work on my plans for my new ale-dispensing invention... I can hardly wait!"

"Great," muttered Qara. "Another chance for my ears to start bleeding."

"Shh!" said Kail. "If we _are_ getting close to Logram and the emissary, we'll need the element of surprise. If you need to talk, whisper, otherwise stay quiet." Qara mumbled something to herself, but eventually fell into sullen silence. The others followed closely as Kail led the way down the dark, oppressive corridor.

o - o - o - o - o

The next two hours were spent in a bad dream filled with narrow tunnels and dancing shadows. When orcs appeared they cut them down, and then Elanee or Casavir healed their wounds, until eventually it felt like they had never done anything other than fight orcs and wander down tunnels. Kail was immensely thankful that Khelgar was with them. Underground, she was out of her element, and in the narrow, twisting corridors, her sense of direction failed her more than once. In those moments, Khelgar stepped forward to lead the way with a canny confidence and sureness that she envied. The Dwarf, she realised, was actually happy to be underground.

"There's something moving inside here," Khelgar said. He had his ear to a door, listening for sounds as Kail passed around a flask of water.

"Let's get it over with, then," she said. She placed the stopper on the flask and drew her daggers, stepping upto Khelgar as he loosened his own weapon. Behind her the others crowded close by, readying themselves for combat. Khelgar pushed the door open, and stepped into the room.

"These orcs... I recognise some of them from the battles we had. We allowed many of them to flee once they had surrendered the field," said Casavir. On the floor in front of them were a dozen orcs, with various degrees of injury. Most lay unmoving on the floor, but some backed into the far corners of the cave, holding their weapons in front of them and growling defensively. "These orcs are in no shape to fight. They've seen too much of battle already."

"Bah, these orcs can barely stand. Let's move on," said Khelgar, placing his weapon back at his belt.

"The ground here is thick with their blood... and their pain," said Elanee. Her voice was thick with emotion, as if she was witnessing some terrible act of cruelty.

"And it's about to get a whole lot thicker," said Kail.

"If they will not fight us, I say we let them lie where they are," said Casavir firmly.

"If we leave them alone and they recover, they will be a threat to us and our mission," she replied.

"They look to be in bad shape. I don't think the lot of them will survive the night," said Khelgar. He was weighing up the orcs with a calculating gaze.

"I'd rather not take the chance," she said.

"Alright," said Qara. "It'd be putting them out of their misery, I guess."

"If you feel you must," said Casavir. He wore a look of grim resignation, and he gripped his weapon tightly. "But this is not an act of mercy, but of revenge... and hate." Kail rounded on him, fuming.

"Fine," she hissed. "Then you can cover the rear. And if these orcs _do_ manage to heal themselves, and come after us, perhaps you can get together with them over a pot of tea and reminisce about old times and old battles whilst the rest of us get on with the job that we bloody well came here to do, which is to rescue the emissary from the bloody violent orcs."

She stormed out of the room, her mind blazing with anger. _How dare he judge me! How dare the stuck-up, arrogant bastard tell me my own motives! Neeshka was right, I should never have agreed to him coming along._ That was the worst part. That he automatically assumed that her motives were governed by hatred. She didn't particularly hate the orcs; not like she had hated Moire. The orcs, at least, were acting true to their nature. Theirs was not a conscious decision to turn to a life of violence, like Moire's had been. But the injured orcs jeopardised her mission merely by being there. It only took one of them to sneak off and warn Logram that they were there. It only took one of them to warn the others, for an ambush to be set...

She was so angry that she didn't even see Grobnar approaching from the opposite direction until they crashed into each other and went sprawling to the floor.

"Oh, I am sorry. Didn't quite see you there," he said, brushing himself off.

"What's the hurry?" she asked. "I thought you were right behind me back there."

"Ah, no, I wandered off for a moment to examine a particularly interesting rock formation that I thought might be a rare outcrop of..." she realised that she must have been glaring, because he trailed off and took a step back, "Well anyway, it turns out it wasn't, but I have good news. I think I've found the entrance to the lower levels."

"Really? That **is** good news. The sooner we're done here the better, as far as I'm concerned. Show me where this entrance is, and we'll see what awaits us on the second level."

o - o - o - o - o

Kail sat back on her heels and nibbled on her bland rations. The very first thing she was doing to do when she got back to Neverwinter was to make the biggest pan of fresh herb soup imaginable. And she would bake some bread, have it warm and dripping with butter. And then maybe there would be strawberries or something afterwards, and a couple of glasses of cool ale to wash it all down.

Approaching footsteps, their owner obviously trying and failing miserably to remain quiet and unobtrusive, brought her out of her culinary reverie, but she ignored them.

"My lady? Might I speak with you for a moment?" She sighed and looked up. Casavir's expression was, as always, serious, and he watched her with a patient gaze that suggested he wasn't going to leave until he'd she agreed to speak with him. She nodded and stood, and followed him a short distance away from the others.

"What's on your mind?" she asked.

"I wanted to explain my words to you earlier," he said.

"Which ones?"

"The ones regarding the wounded orcs." She rolled her eyes, but he continued before she could protest. "As a paladin of Tyr, it is part of my code of ethics to show mercy to an unarmed or beaten enemy. It is not honourable to slaughter a foe who cannot defend himself."

"Not honourable, perhaps, but practical," she said with a shrug.

"As Humans, we have the ability to grow beyond such thinking, to show mercy when others would not necessarily do the same for us," said Casavir firmly. "It is what separates us from the more brutal and primitive creatures, such as orcs."

"Really? And all this time I thought what separated us from them was the fact that we don't cook people and eat them for breakfast," she said. "But I'm really glad you're here to point out the error of my logic. Thank you for showing me the light."

"That was not what I meant..." he began, but she was already walking away. When she got back to her pack she picked up her rations and continued chewing them with a vengeance. The others' conversations briefly touched her mind -- Grobnar was attempting to sing something in Dwarvish to Khelgar, and Qara was moaning to Neeshka about the lack of hot water for washing -- but she mainly ignored them as her insides simmered in anger. Twice now Casavir had made vague assumptions about her motives, without bothering to learn about her reasons. Were all paladins so... judgemental?

"I think you are being too hard on him." Kail glared at Elanee as the Elf sat down beside her.

"I don't have time for playing nice with orcs. They are the enemy here, not I. Anybody who doesn't see that has no place on this mission," she replied.

"Have you given any thought about what we are to do if we're too late to save the emissary? If he's already dead when we find him?"

"There's nothing to think about. We'll go back to Brelaina and continue jumping through her hoops, keeping doing her pointless missions until she lets us into Blacklake," she shrugged.

"Do you really feel that Brelaina's missions for us have been without purpose?" Elanee asked. She sounded surprised. "We have foiled a gang of criminals, thereby making life within the city more tolerable, and less dangerous, for many of its inhabitants."

"They might not have been without purpose," she admitted. "But they were pretty much irrelevant to me. I don't live in Neverwinter, and if its guards and soldiers can't sort out their own problems... well, that speaks volumes. Why do you care anyway? You don't live in the city either. Why is it important to you what happens there?"

"The city itself is not important to me; what is important is balance, and the Docks district, when we first arrived, was badly out of balance. Now we have restored at least some of the balance, and it is in those circumstances which all living things flourish." Kail said nothing. It sometimes seemed that everybody except her was looking for some sort of bigger picture. All she wanted to do was get into the Blacklake district. The balance was not important, nor was a paladin's code of honour. She just wanted to get rid of these shards and go home. Why couldn't things just be easy for once?

o - o - o - o - o

Kail peered around the open doorway, into an orc-filled room. The orc in the middle of the crowd was taller than the rest, and stood with an air of authority. Above her she heard Casavir grunt softly, and together they retreated down the corridor.

"I think it's safe to assume that we've found Logram," said Casavir to the others. Khelgar immediately gave them a gap-toothed smile.

"About time, too! I was starting to think he'd run off to hide somewhere. We must've slaughtered his entire clan getting this far!"

"Almost his entire clan," she corrected. "The rest of them are in there with Logram."

"Good. That makes it more sporting," he said.

"I would like to try talking to Logram first," said Casavir. "If we can persuade him to give up the emissary without a fight, we might spare unnecessary bloodshed."

"Pah!" Khelgar scoffed. Kail studied Casavir's blank face for a moment. It was incredibly hard to guess what the man was thinking. He was almost as good at keeping his emotions covered as her father.

"Alright," she agreed. "Khelgar, can you cover our backs in case we're walking into an ambush?"

"What does it matter if we're walking into an ambush?" asked Qara. "I'll torch them all if need be."

"Maybe they'll all be carrying slings and stones," Neeshka snickered, and Qara glared at her.

"Aye, I'll watch yer backs," said Khelgar. They all crept towards the entrance to the room, and crouched down while Kail took another look around the corner.

"After you," she said quietly to Casavir. He gave her a genuine look of surprise.

"You do not wish to go first?" he asked.

"This is your vendetta," she replied. "I'm only here for the emissary."

"I do not have a vendetta..."

"Do you think we could save the emissary and _then_ argue about whether this is or isn't a vendetta?" asked Elanee from behind them. Kail nodded, and nudged Casavir forward with her elbow. When he stepped into the room she followed him, and everybody else followed behind.

"Neverwinter dares not send its grey whelps to face me in true battle. Instead they send assassins," said the large orc as they approached.

"We are not assassins Logram," said Casavir. "You sent the tribes against the people of Neverwinter who dared settle here, so we are here to stop you." Kail grinned and mouthed 'vendetta' at Elanee. The Elf merely shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"So, the Katalmach. The one who has been attacking us, giving the grey whelps time to rest between each assault. Why my men fear to face you in battle is hard to see," said Logram.

"Hand over the emissary and we will leave you with what little of your tribe we haven't already slaughtered," Kail offered to the orc. He sneered at her before turning to Casavir.

"You die now, Katalmach," he said. Then, as one, the orcs in the room surged forward. Kail made every one of her knives count before she switched to her daggers, and all around her arrows and spells flew through the air. From the corner of her eye she saw Casavir fighting with Logram, and her stomach lurched when Logram's weapon hit Casavir's shield with enough force to shatter bones. On the other side of the room Elanee, shifted into the form of a bear, was hauling an orc away from Grobnar, and when she reared up on her hind legs to envelope the orc in a crushing embrace, its neck snapped and its body went limp.

Behind her she knew Qara and Neeshka were fighting back to back with arrow and spell, whilst the sound of Khelgar grunting with the effort of combat came clearly from the back of the room. Her attention slipped for a second, and the orc she was fighting managed to clip the side of her head with his wooden club. She rolled as she fell, the orc's club hitting the ground where she had gone down. Her opponent was fast, and brought his club around for another attack, barely giving her time to move before he swung. On his third attempt to smash her skull he himself took a blow to the head, crumpling to the floor as his weapon dropped from his hand.

Breathing hard, she nodded her thanks at Casavir, who was stood behind the body of the orc. He returned her gesture, and she noticed that he was bleeding in several places. But despite that, he seemed invigorated. Though his face was as passive as ever, his icy blue eyes were shining, animated by battle. He looked a whole different person to the normally calm and unshakable man who had been travelling with them.

"Are you injured?" he asked her.

"No, but you are," she replied. He touched a hand to one of his wounds and frowned slightly at the blood.

"Here, let me heal those," said Elanee. She had shifted out of her animal form as she approached, and as soon as she placed her hands on Casavir the pair were surrounded by a blue healing glow. Taking a moment to study the rest of her companions, she realised that the battle was over. Qara and Grobnar has some minor scratches, but everybody else appeared unharmed. Judging by the number of orc bodies which now littered the floor, they were lucky they hadn't suffered any fatalities. Neeshka immediately set to work picking through the bodies for anything remotely valuable. _Like a magpie looking for shiny objects,_ she thought to herself with a grin.

"I say," said Grobnar, "that really was such fun! But, you know, I don't see the Waterdeep emissary anywhere."

"There's a set of stairs down to another level back here!" called Khelgar from around the corner. Neeshka sighed, and shook her head. Kail knew exactly what she was thinking; if everything got nastier as you went down levels, what could be down there that was worse than Logram?


	25. Reunions

_25. Reunions_

The descent was steep, and before long Kail detected an odour in the air. It reminded her of rotting food, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. Even the stench of orcs above was preferable to this. Behind her her friends started sniffing the air as they too began to detect the smell.

"I have a bad feeling about this," said Neeshka.

"Maybe there is a volcanic vent below," suggested Grobnar. "The sulphur fumes from such a vent might smell just like this."

"No," said Elanee. "I know this smell. It is the smell of death and decay, and I have smelt it before... in the Mere." Kail gripped the hilt of her dagger.

The door at the end of the staircase gave way with a creak of complaint when Kail pushed it, and she quickly stepped through to allow her companions to follow her out of the darkness. At once she discovered why the stairway smelled of death; the room held a collection of dead bodies, both orc and human alike, littered all over the floor and in various stages of decay.

"These corpses," said Casavir behind her. He was staring at the bodies and looked crestfallen. "I know these men and women. I served with them."

"What _is_ this place?" asked Qara. "That's it, I am never travelling in the mountains again."

"Uh... maybe we should back away and move on," said Neeshka as she inched backwards towards the door.

"It looks like some sort of burial chamber," said Khelgar. He was knelt on the floor, examing one of the less decomposed bodies.

"But from what I have heard, Orc tribes of the Well do not usually place their dead side by side with human bodies," said Elanee.

"Some of these soldiers fell in battle against the Orcs, but their bodies were never found," Casavir explained. "I do not know how they ended up here."

"Let's take a look around," said Kail. She took her handkerchief from her pocket and held it in front of her nose. It didn't seem to make much difference.

"We should be careful," Elanee cautioned. "Something is wrong here... the feeling in the ground, and from these bodies, it's like.... a shadow, like death." Grobnar nodded emphatically.

"'Like death', she says. That we can see," grunted Khelgar.

"I sense it too," said Casavir.

"Great. Now the druidess has an echo," said Qara, rolling her eyes.

"I've felt this darkness before," said Elanee, pointedly ignoring Qara, "deep within the Mere. The shadows are thick here, seeping into the land. Whatever is in the Mere is touching here as well."

"Then we have a responsibility to find out what's going on here. I won't let the people of West Harbor end up like this," said Kail, gesturing at the pile of corpses. From the corner of her eye she saw Grobnar take out a pen and a notebook and begin writing. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Oh, just making notes on what you're saying. I want to get it right when I compose a song about it later."

"Grobnar, there is no way you can compose a song about a pile of dead bodies that people will want to listen to," she sighed.

"I agree," said Casavir. "About this being our responsibility, that is. I want to know who has done this, and why." It was the first time she had seen a shadow of a scowl on his face, and she realised that this was what passed for anger for a paladin.

"I don't like this," said Neeshka quietly. "I'm not above looking around... maybe robbing a corpse or two, but this place just feels wrong."

"I trust your instincts on this one," said Kail, patting the tiefling's arm in comfort. "But I'd rather know what's here than have it come after us later when our guard is down."

"Sometimes I'd rather have something way, way behind me rather than face it head on," grinned Neeshka.

"I'm ready for a fight," said Khelgar. "Maybe we can add some more orc bodies to the floor!"

"Somehow I don't think we're going to be facing any more orcs," Kail replied.

"Hmm. From bloodthirsty orcs to creeping around in tunnels filled with corpses... this just gets better and better," said Qara.

"If it's too hard for you to be here you could always just go back to the Flagon to scrub tables, you know," said Neeshka.

"No way, tail-for-brains. I'm done with that stuffy, smelly tavern and its disgusting visitors. From now on, wherever you guys go, I go."

"Even when we go back to the tavern?" Neeshka smiled sweetly.

"Ha! She's got you there, your highness!" scoffed Khelgar.

"Do you three think you could try to be a little more serious? It is disrespectful to the people who died here for you to be laughing and joking as if nothing is amiss. How would you feel if it was people that you cared about lying here, cold and abandoned?" said Casavir. Behind him, Elanee nodded in approval at his words.

"Well I uh... I'm sorry, Casavir," said Khelgar. "We didn't mean any disrespect to you or the people you knew." He kicked Neeshka's ankle.

"I'm sorry too," she sighed after a moment. "Can we get out of this room now? It's really creeping me out."

"Come on," said Kail, taking the lead with Grobnar behind her. "The sooner we find out what's causing this, the sooner we can get rid of it."

o - o - o - o - o

"Kail, lass, there's something on the floor up ahead," said Khelgar. They had been wandering through the cave for well over an hour, battling undead creatures at every turn. When Kail admitted that she had absolutely no directional sense underground, Khelgar had taken the lead position.

"Are you sure?" she asked, squinting in the darkness to where the Dwarf pointed.

"You're questioning these eyes?"

"Point. Can you tell what is is? Another zombie?"

"Nay lass, it's a human body... still alive."

"Then we should render aid at once," said Casavir, stepping past them. Kail gave a hiss of irritation -- the paladin could be walking right into an ambush!! -- and then followed him with the rest of the group. As they approached the body Grobnar cast Light, and the man on the ground whimpered as they clustered around him.

"Wynn!" said Qara, her pale face showing shock at seeing the man -- no, the boy -- on the floor of the cave. "What are you doing here?" The boy's hand shot up and he grabbed the sorceress by the sleeve.

"Qara.... help me..." he groaned in pain.

"Who is he Qara?" Kail.

"His name is Wynn, he was a fellow student of mine at the Acadamy... one of the few I actually liked, in fact. What could have done this to him?"

"Pain... so much pain! Please... help me..." screamed Wynn.

"I will try to heal you. Remain as still as you can," Casavir told him. He laid his hands on Wynn's chest, and the pair were surrounded by a faint blue light. But it was too late. Wynn gave one last scream as something went _pop_ inside his chest. He let out a gurgling sigh, then was silent. "I'm sorry, Qara, he was too far gone," said Casavir as he laid Wynn's body on the ground.

"Someone's coming!" said Khelgar. Kail immediately drew her daggers and turned in the direction of the approaching footsteps. The door at the other end of the chamber swung open, and a dark-robed figure stepped through, flanked by two boys in the attire of the Neverwinter Academy.

"Vhadin? Kerryn? What has happened to you?" said Qara as the trio approached.

"Ah," said the dark-robed figure, "I sensed strong magic. You, girl, will make an excellent gift for my master."

"I'll pass, thanks," replied Qara. "These students... what have you done to them?"

"I have granted them eternal life... and power. They cannot die, yet they retain their skills in the arcane arts. You, however, will outshine them both. You are strong... I can feel the power burning within you."

"And all I have to do is give her to you?" Kail mused aloud.

"You try and give me to him, and I'll kill us all, I swear it!" said Qara vehemently.

"Oh relax, I was kidding. I wouldn't let him hurt you... or my uncle will be looking for another barmaid, and I won't have that on my head."

"Few who are granted eternal life retain their mastery over magic," said the priest. "Even these two, as strong as they were, lost mcuh of their power. This girl you have brought me, however... she is strong. Very strong. She will retain much of her power... enough to lead an _army_."

"Eternal life, huh?" asked Qara.

"You can't be serious," said Kail.

"Come on. If I wanted to be a zombie I would have stayed at the Academy."

"Seize her!" snapped the priest. "Destroy her companions, but she must not be harmed!"

The battle was ferocious, but in the end Qara's strength proved greater than that of the shadow priest. He was undone by the very power that he sought to harness. Grobnar, recognising the irony of the situation, began to compose a song about it.

"Hey, look at this," said Neeshka after she had finished rifling through the pockets of their fallen enemies and had turned her attention to exploring the area for hidden treasures. Kail approached the door that Neeshka was examining, stood on her tiptoes, and looked through the iron grill near the top. Casavir stood beside her and peered through as well.

"What is it?" asked Grobnar, jumping up on the spot and trying to see through the grill too. "I can't get that high up... what's in there?"

"A very bruised man lying on a bed, staring up at the ceiling. I think he's still alive though," said Kail.

"Issani," said Casavir.

"Possibly, but we've been down this road before. The last man to tell us he was Issani turned out to be a mage who tried to kill us."

"I think this one is the real Issani," said Elanee, rifling through a pile of papers. "Khelgar and I found these in another room, they refer to the emissary from Waterdeep being tortured for information. And look," she held up one paper in particular for everybody to see. "Issani's papers of identification. They must have taken them from him when he was captured."

"Plus there's nothing else left alive in these caves," said Khelgar. "The room where we found the papers is the last one, and that leads upto the surface. If the man in there isn't Issani, he's dead."

"Got it," said Neeshka. The lock she was tinkering with went _click_ and she removed her picks, flashing a smile at Casavir. "Thieving pays off after all," she said.

Kail stepped past Neeshka and into the room. "Issani?"

"I'll tell you now what I told the last people who came to torture me. I'm not giving you any information. You're wasting your time," said the man on the bed, still staring at the ceiling.

"Actually," said Kail, "I was planning on escorting you to Neverwinter. But if you wish to stay in these _charming_ accomodations then I will forward your apologies to Lord Nasher himself."

"What?" Issani jumped to his feet. It was obvious that he had been tortured; his face was battered and bruised, and as he walked towards her he limped quite badly. _Something for Elanee or Casavir to fix before we get him to Old Owl Well, _she thought.

"Truly, you are here to rescue me? This is not merely another cruel jest on behalf of my captors?"

"Truly. This man is a paladin," she said, pointing at Casavir, who stood a little straighter at the mention of his name. "He does not lie."

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" said Issani, embracing them all by turn. "You have surely been sent by the Gods in answer to my prayers."

"Does that mean you're ready to come with us?"

"Yes, I wish to put this entire place behind me. Please, take me to where I can see the sun again."

o - o - o - o - o

"How is he?" Kail asked Elanee that night by the campfire. The Elf looked to the sleeping form of Issani, who she had been treating a few moments earlier.

"The bruises and cuts to his face were mainly superficial, and have healed well. His leg was fractured though, so I've healed it as best I could and I mixed a sleeping powder in with his drink. He should sleep soundly tonight, and not be in too much pain for the trek back to the Well tomorrow."

"And with any luck Captain Brelaina will let us into Blacklake as soon as we get Issani back safe and sound."

"Forgive me for intruding, but what does the Blacklake District have to do with Issani?" asked Casavir as he approached with two cups of tea. He gave one each to Kail and Elanee, and sat beside them on the ground. One by one the others drifted over to the campfire to listen to the conversation.

"Blacklake District is locked down because a couple of nobles have gotten themselves killed," said Kail.

"They were murdered," Elanee corrected.

"Only a few privilaged members of the Watch, along with the Cloaktower mages, are allowed into Blacklake, because of the ongoing investigation," continued Kail, "So we joined the Watch..."

"Technically _I_ didn't join the Watch," Neeshka interrupted.

"Nor me," said Qara.

"And I wasn't around at that time, but I'm sure if I was then I would have taken the oath and served well," said Grobnar. "Plus, the Watch cloaks really are quite fetching."

"So Khelgar and I joined the Watch," said Kail, "And everybody else just comes along because it's such _super_ fun being constantly chased and attacked and you haven't really lived until you've been marked for death by Neverwinter's criminal element. Anyway, we joined and have been performing duties for Brelaina so that she'll let us into Blacklake hopefully before we're grey and old and helping to raise our grandkids."

"So you aren't real members of the Watch, then?" asked Casavir.

"Of course we are. We have the cloaks, we're getting paid a Watchman's salary... I'm a lieutenant, actually."

"And what in Blacklake is so important that you had to join the Watch just to get inside?"

"A man," smiled Kail. "A man who is very important to me."

"Oh," said Casavir. "I see. Well, I apologise if I have pried too much into your personal affairs." Elanee _tsked_ in irritation.

"Tell him the truth, Kail," she prompted.

"It _is_ the truth. Aldanon may be very important to me," said Kail defensively. "But since you asked, I'll tell you from the beginning." She smiled to herself when Grobnar took out his notebook and quill. "It started few weeks ago in West Harbor, the night of the Harvest Fair. The village was attacked out of the blue by Duergar and Bladelings....

o - o - o - o - o

Casavir listened in rapt attention as the young bard told her tale. The story was almost beyond belief... dark dwarves and planar creatures, travelling through the Mere to find a shard of silver hidden within the ruins of ancient Illefarn, a second shard, found along with the first following the battle many years ago with the King of Shadows... It wasn't until Kail actually took the shards out of her pack to show him that he realised this was very, very real. Duergar did not leave the Underdark for no good reason, and certainly not to attack a tiny village of no strategic or monetary importance.

If the Duergar, and these other creatures that Kail mentioned, were truly searching for artifacts of the time of the King of Shadows, then this did not bode well for the realms. This, he decided, was a cause that he wanted to fight for. Now that Logram and Yaisog were dead, the orc position at Old Owl Well would crumble. Neverwinter would claim the well, and the people who lived there would be safe and would prosper. They did not need him anymore. He had done what he originally came here to do. And, just as his quest was over, here was another worthwhile one for him to take up. The timing was so _perfect_ that his meeting with Kail and her friends could only have been arranged by the Gods. And he would make sure that the Gods would not be disappointed in him.

o - o - o - o - o

The following evening Kail entered the Greycloak camp at Old Owl Well supporting Issani. The men stopped their work on the walls to stare as she and her friends passed by the perimeter.

"Hey, you!" she said, gesturing for one of the Greycloaks to approach. "This is Issani. Take him to a tent and have your medic or priest or whatever take a look at him." The man hurriedly took her place as Issani's leaning post.

"Be assured that a great many important people in Neverwinter will hear of what you have done to save me," said Issani, then limped away as more Greycloaks came to help him into a tent.

"Kail..." began Neeshka, hopping on the spot and looking in the direction of the camp's merchant.

"Yes yes, you can go try to sell everything that you picked up from the caves," she smiled. "Why don't the rest of you go and get a drink and a hot meal? I'm going to have a word with Callum, and then I want to be off as soon as possible." The rest of the group didn't need telling twice, and they quickly dispersed to the nearest cooking fires. When Kail turned back around, only Casavir was left beside her. "Don't you want something hot to eat, Casavir?"

"No, thank you. I would rather come with you to see Callum... if that's alright by you, of course. From what Grobnar has told me, it sounds like Commander Callum has been looking to speak to me. I think it is time I spoke to him too." She nodded absently and led him through the encampment.

"Ah, there you are," said Callum. He exited his tent, fastening his armour into place as he approached. "I just heard that you brought Issani to us. Well done. I can't wait to hear how you pulled it off."

"Here," said Kail, taking Logram Eyegouger's banner out of her pack and handing it to Callum. He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Well this would explain why the orc attacks have stopped -- without a chieftain they're going to be fighting each other now."

"I'm just glad we were in time to save Issani."

"We had a visitor... a woman by the name of Katriona, who claims to have been part of the force attacking the Orcs," said Callum. "She's here in the camp, along with some of her men. It was her leader that I was waiting for... and I see you've brought him. Well met, Casavir."

"Callum," said Casavir. "It is good to see you're still in one piece."

"I assume you were the one leading that band who was harassing the orcs. I owe you a great debt. And now that I know who was leading that mercenary band, I understand why it was so difficult for us to make contact with you. You've put me in a difficult position here, Casavir. Your leaving was sudden, and some even say, disloyal to Neverwinter."

"Whatever trouble Casavir is in, know that he helped us, and you, willingly," she told him. "Personally, I think that's worth something."

"Very well. My report will read that the Greycloaks were able to hold off the orcs long enough for you to take Logram's head. That should make the Council happy that their money was well spent, and put you in good graces with them as well. And officially, Casavir, you were never here. Whatever reasons you had for leaving and going on to Old Owl Well -- they are your own."

"Thank you, Callum," said Casavir.

"What about the emissary?" Kail asked. "Do you still need us to escort him to Neverwinter? If so, there's somewhere I'd like to stop off first."

"That won't be necessary. I have already arranged an escort for him."

"You were _that_ confident that we'd bring him back alive?"

"Of course. I've known from the first moment I laid eyes on your group that you're all talented and capable individuals," said Callum.

"Hey, Kail," called Neeshka, as she and Khelgar made their way over.

"What is it?"

"Grobnar's got his head stuck in a kettle," said Khelgar. "I think we should go now before he frees himself and catches up."

"We're all _very_ talanted and capable," she told Callum, shooting a pained look at the duo.

"What of my soldiers, Callum?" asked Casavir. "They know Old Owl Well, and they fight as only those fighting for their homes will fight."

"Hmm. I could certainly use them if they don't mind wearing a uniform, my friend. My Greycloacks could certainly learn a thing or two from them. Of course, I'm going to have a hard time explaining to the Council how I ended up with another hundred mouths to feed -- and arm."

"I'm sure you'll think of something," said Kail.

"Heh, I'll have to. Can't pass up that many extra soldiers... especially ones that know Old Owl Well like the back of their hand. With any luck, and with the new soldiers, I might be able to hit the orcs now while they're disorganised."

"Glad we could help," she said.

"Wish I could get more of your kind of 'help'. You've made it that much more certain that we'll hold onto this watering hole."

"Is there anything else you need from me before I go? I was hoping to leave within the hour."

"No, you've already done more than your fair share of work. I guess your friend Khelgar is eager to get back to his friends near the old Ironfist stronghold, eh?"

"What's that you say?" asked Khelgar.

"I've heard that there's a group of Dwarfs from your clan up at the old stronghold... trying to scout it for possible excavation, I think. I thought you would have known about it already," said Callum.

"Well I er... I haven't been home in a few years. You know how it is with adventuring, always one quest after another."

"Yes, I can imagine," said Callum. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work. This place isn't ours until we've fortified and garrisoned it. Thanks again for your help."

"Goodbye Commander," said Kail.

"Lass...," said Khelgar hesitantly, "Do you think that we might get a chance to visit me kin on the way back to Neverwinter? I've been thinking about what that crazy priest of Tyr said, and I reckon this is some sort of omen. An Ironfist scouting party just a day's walk away, right when I need to get through this crazy Trial of the Maimed thing."

"Alright Khelgar, that shouldn't be a problem. And then afterwards we'll go to Skymirror. That should make Elanee happy. Could you go and round everybody up, and remove Grobnar from the kettle? I'd like to be going now." Khelgar nodded happily, and he and Neeshka left to find the others.

"Kail..." said Casavir.

"Ah, I'm not really good at long goodbyes, so let's make it quick. I'm sure your men will be happy to have you back to command them," she replied.

"I look forward to seeing my soldiers again, but I'm not staying here. Callum is a good commander, and they will be in very capable hands. The truth is, I'm no longer needed here. Now that the orcs have been dealt a crippling blow, most of the fighting will be against small raiding parties. The rest of the Greycloaks' efforts will go into rebuilding and setting up trading facilities, and shops and homesteads. I've never been good at building, so I'm going where my skills are needed more. With you, if you'll have me along."

"You want to come with us?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes. I believe your cause is a just one, and that these enemies who attacked your town and pursue you still, must be stopped."

"Hmm. If you want to join our cause, you can. I didn't even realise we had a cause, until now. I've just been doing what I needed to do to survive."

"Then perhaps I can help you keep surviving," he said.

"Okay. Sounds good enough for me. I mean, the only reason Qara's with us is because she thinks burning things is more fun than cleaning tables. And I have no idea why Grobnar's here... I think we just picked him up, like a stray puppy."

"And what about Khelgar and Neeshka, and Elanee? Why do they follow you?"

"They don't follow me. They're my friends. We follow each other."

"But they defer to you."

"Not all the time," she grinned. "Khelgar's with me because I'm helping him with his vision quest, and he's helping me with the things that want to kill me. Neeshka's along for the treasure, and because we've grown close. I never had a sister before, but Neeshka is the closest thing to it. And Elanee is here because she thinks there is a connection between these shards that I carry and the taint that is spreading across the land. She wants to find out what has caused the disappearance of the rest of her Circle, and what is dark force is driving Lizardmen Tribes from the Mere. We're a pretty mixed-up bunch."

"Then I guess I shall just have to find a way to fit in. Now I know you're eager to be off," said Casavir, "so I shall say goodbye to Katriona then meet everyone outside the camp." Kail nodded, and watched Casavir's back as he walked away. And she got the feeling that life wasn't about to get any easier.


	26. The Maimed

_26. The Maimed_

"I can't wait to see me kin," said Khelgar, setting a hearty pace the following morning. "It's been years since I was last at the Ironfist home. Too many years. But soon you'll see that that crazy priest of Tyr didn't know what he was talking about when he accused me of hurting me kin!"

"I do not understand," said Casavir. "Why did a priest of Tyr accuse you of hurting your kin? I would have thought that your own leaders would deal with any violent occurrences."

"Khelgar wants to train to become a monk," Kail explained. "He went to see a priest in the temple of Tyr, in Neverwinter, who told him that in order to train as a monk, he must first undergo a vision quest, and face three trials. The first trial is the Trial of the Maimed. Khelgar has to confront those who he has wounded in the past, to see the consequences of his actions. They seemed to think he should speak to his kin."

"I never harmed any of me kin in me life!" Khelgar huffed.

"Then what is it that you hope to accomplish here?" asked Casavir.

"Well, I'll introduce Kail to some of my clan, they can tell her what a fine, upstanding Ironfist I am, and she can tell that crazy priest that he was wrong!"

"I think it's a splendid idea to become a monk!" piped up Grobnar. "Although I don't think I could do it myself... they have too much restraint, and introspective meditation. I think I would be far too easily distracted for that sort of life. Besides, I hope to one day compose the Ballad of Khelgar the Monk... a captivating tale of how Sir Khelgar overcame his own shortcomings to better himself and aid his friends!"

"Coming from anyone but you, Gnome, I'd think that 'shortcomings' bit was a crack at me height."

"Oh certainly not, Sir Khelgar! As the saying goes, good things come in small packages. Or is that good things come to those who wait? Or was it bad things happen to good people? Anyway! I'm very excited about meeting your fellow Ironfists!" Grobnar beamed, then fell back as he began digging around inside his pack for his notebook.

"I take it all back," said Khelgar. "I've just realised that I've hurt me kin in a grievous way."

"Oh? And how's that?" asked Kail.

"By bringing Grobnar to meet them."

o - o - o - o - o

"Hey, it's Khulmar!" said Khelgar. He sprinted up the rest of the path to the party of Dwarfs who were waiting at the summit of the mountain. The lead Dwarf, with a beard as blond as Khelgar's was auburn, took a step forward, resting his hand on his axe.

"You're a strange band to be wandering in these mountains," said Khulmar as everybody huffed into the makeshift camp.

"I could say the same, Khulmar," said Khelgar. "What are you doing here, so far from Ironfist lands?"

"Not as far as you'd _think_, Khelgar, though I doubt we are here for the same reasons."

"You look like you've seen battle," said Kail. Several of the Dwarfs had cuts and bruises, and a tent in the middle of the camp was obviously meant as a sickbed.

"It's clan business," said Khulmar. "Not for outsiders."

"Ah, but Khulmar, these are friends... well, most of them, anyways," said Khelgar. "Who's blood is that on your armour? Orcs?"

"We are scouting out the old Ironfist clan hold in these mountains, seeing if it can be reopened -- or retaken. There are bugbears blocking the way, but they will not do so for long."

"Bugbears?" said Khelgar. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's bury them!"

"It's nothing we can't handle, Khelgar. No need to shed the blood of non-clan. And this is an _Ironfist_ matter."

"Nonsense, these all are spoiling for a fight. What say you all -- you all want to give the vultures some bugbear corpses to feast on?"

"If they're in need of help, we should do what we can. The more allies we have in these mountains, the better," said Casavir. "A Dwarven presence in these mountains, especially the Ironfist clan, would also make tactical sense as well."

"Yeah, that's great, Casavir," Qara sneered. "Fight the good fight. Maybe we can carve that on our tombstones -- if anyone finds our bodies at all."

"You know, old Dwarven halls tend to have lots of gold and gems, just lying around for the taking," said Neeshka, her eyes taking on a sudden greedy glint.

"Maybe so, but nothing _your_ thieving hands will see, fiendling," said Khelgar.

"The less time we spend in these mountains, the better," said Elanee. "I don't welcome the thought of going deeper inside them, but if we must..."

"Why does one even need to ask?!" exclaimed Grobnar. "It sounds like a tale waiting to happen! Think of it, Grobnar Gnomehands, and the liberation of the Ironfist clan, and all its engineering marvels, a tale for any tavern, for every man, woman and child!"

"Who is this Gnome?" asked Khulmar.

"He's arrow bait," said Khelgar. "I'll tell you about it later."

"I'd like to help out," said Kail.

"We are grateful for the... gesture, but such false courtesies are wasted on us," said Khulmar. "Khelgar, stay with your new band. We neither ask for your help nor require it. This is Ironfist clan business."

"Eh? But I'm Ironfist clan -- your fight is my fight!"

"Those were not the words you used when you left so long ago to pursue this mad... idea of yours. You seek to learn how to fight, but you have cast aside the _why_ of it -- clan honour, duty, these are the things you've forgotten the value of. If you wish to hep, then know that the door is sealed to the clanhold -- and if you can recount the legend of King Loudram, then you will know how to open it... I think _that_ part of our history is fresh enough in your mind. Whether you return or not, it does not matter to me, and it does not matter to the clan."

"We are with you, and we want to help," Kail to Khelgar after the Dwarfs had disappeared back into their tents.

"All right then, let's get to the clanhold door... and hopefully there's something beyond it that needs to be taught a lesson in battle."

o - o - o - o - o

Kail had learnt two things, since she and her companions first stepped foot on the path to the Ironfist hold. She had learnt that bugbears were relatively easy to kill. They were more intelligent than trolls, less intelligent than Orcs, and they were big and, usually, had slow reflexes.

She had also learnt that she and Casavir made a pretty good fighting team. Her blows, more often crippling than lethal, paved the way for Casavir to smash his hammer across the skulls of the bugbears, so as she crippled, he followed with killing blows. The others fought in a similar manner; Khelgar killed the bugbears wounded by Neeshka's arrows, Elanee finished of the ones that weren't killed by Grobnar's bolts, and Qara merely threw every spell that she had at anything that wasn't Human, Elf, Dwarf, Gnome or Tiefling. Before noon, the path to the Ironfist hold was treacherously slippy with blood.

"Well, that was refreshing," said Grobnar. He was red with blood from head to toe; even his normally blond hair had taken on a hue that made Qara's hair look dull.

"Yer damn right it was!" said Khelgar, similarly bloody. "Don't forget to give it a good name when ye make up a song for it.... 'the battle of ironfist hold', maybe."

"How about 'the massacre in the mountains'," Elanee suggested wearily.

"Bah, that was a fine a fight as any!" said Khelgar.

"I think I saw a stream a couple of minutes back," said Neeshka, trying to wring blood out of her shirt. "Why don't we go and soak in it for a few days until we're clean."

"Yes, we'll clean up and meet back here. Then we can enter the Ironfist clanhold together," said Kail.

o - o - o - o - o

"Ye can actualy _feel_ the Ironfist presence in these tunnels," Khelgar said reverentially as he led the way deeper into the clan hold.

"What _I_ feel is a strong bugbear presence," said Qara. "And a strong bugbear smell. And what were those tall ugly things we killed?"

"Half-ogres, I believe," said Elanee. "They seemed to be commanding the bugbears. That's understandable, since bugbear society favours the strong or the bold. Much like Lizardmen, really."

"Well _these_ bugbears should have had the brains to stay out of an Ironfist home!" Khelgar proclaimed. A few pieces of loose dirt fell from the ceiling and landed on his head.

"Er, are you sure these tunnels are safe, Khelgar?" Kail asked.

"Of course they're safe, they're of Ironfist construction! They don't say 'safe as Dwarves underground' because our tunnels are deathtraps, you know."

"I know... but we _have_ seen a few collapsed tunnels."

"Bah, it was the bugbears that did that! Probably worried about too many access routes, so they collapsed a few of the entrances. As soon as we get deeper into the hold, you'll see what I mean."

"Speaking of moving on, how's it coming with that door?" Kail asked Neeshka. The tiefling was examining a locked door, one that she didn't seem able to pick.

"Give me a couple more minutes, okay? I'm not used to these Dwarven doors. They're different than the type you find in, say, the noble mansions of Blacklake."

"I believe that the door can only be opened using this machine," said Grobnar.

"What is it?" Kail asked.

"I think it's the mechanism for opening the door. You see that lever? It's connected to the grommet underneath the casing, which connects to that gear over there."

"And?"

"That gear then connected to the widget you see tucked into the corner over there... so that connects to the sprocket over there... which finally leads to the underslung rachety-cog. And there you have it."

"So we can open the door?"

"Well... no. You see, the machine is missing a piece. A very important piece. The lever just won't work without it."

"Is this the part you need?" Neeshka asked, pulling a handle from out of her backpack.

"Hey, I thought I said no thieving in me kin's home!" huffed Khelgar.

"I wasn't stealing, I was carrying it until we needed it. It just looked important, that's all."

"Oh, excellent! I think this will do it!" said Grobnar. He took the part from Neeshka and slotted it into the machine. "Do you want to do the honours, Sir Khelgar?"

"Just open the bloody door, Gnome."

"Right. Well, stand back everybody. You don't really want to be too near to a new machine the first time you operate it. That's how you lose fingers." Grobnar pulled the lever and the machine began to whistle. There was the sound of chains rattling somewhere in the ceiling, then the portcullis door slowly began to slide upwards. "My, that worked better than I thought! Was worried the whole thing was actually some kind of deathtrap," said Grobnar cheerfully.

"Well, let's see what's behind the door," said Kail, and Khelgar marched forwards.

Not far down the corridor they came to another door, and another half-ogre with a retinue of bugbear guards.

"I don't see this ending well," said Grobnar.

"It'll end just fine for us," said Khelgar. He hefted his mace and took a step forward.

"So you killed my brothers," said the ogre. "Good. Now I won't have to share with them." He turned towards the bugbears. "Kill them all! We'll find the rest of the Dwarves when we're done with them."

Kail immediately threw two of her knives at one of the bugbears, and it went down with a wheeze as a knife pierced its throat. The other bugbear hit the floor only seconds later, as it was peppered with arrows and bolts from Neeshka and Grobnar. Khelgar rushed the ogre, smashing the beast across the kneecap with his mace. The creature roared in pain, and Casavir followed Khelgar, delivering a crushing blow to the beast's windpipe. Like the bugbears, the ogre went down and did not get back up.

"Hopefully that was the last of them," said Kail as she retrieved her knives and wiped off the blood. Khelgar grunted something undiscernable in Dwarven, and went to explore a tunnel on the opposite side of the room.

"Hey, I found a chest over here," called Neeshka. Khelgar quickly hurried back and nudged her out of the way. He opened the chest and took out a pair of gauntlets.

"I don't believe it," he said, his voice thick with awe. "Our clan thought they had been lost forever."

"What are they?" Kail asked him.

"They're the gauntlets of Ironfist, held by the first of our kings. Torim Ironfist, our last great king, was said to have worn them when our homeland fell to the Orcs. But that would mean this clanhold is... this must be our first clanhold, the halls where Torim made his final stand. If I had only _known_ this place was here, that _these_ were here!"

"What do the gauntlets do? I mean, are they just an heirloom, or do they have powers?"

"Anyone who gains them gains the strength of ten, maybe twenty. It's how the clan earned the name 'Ironfist'. With these, you could probably punch through a stone wall."

"A stone wall like the one around Blacklake?" grinned Kail. "Oh, don't worry, I wouldn't really go around destroying parts of Neverwinter," she said at the stern look on Casavir's face.

"And that's just the beginning. It's said that if the wearer also wielded the Hammer of Ironfist, he could fell dragons with one blow," said Khelgar.

"Sounds pretty powerful to me," she said.

"It must be destiny that I've found them, It must mean that the Ironfist clan shall reclaim our home."

"That will be a great day," said Kail. "You'll have to teach me some more Dwarven drinking songs so that I can play at the welcoming home party."

"And to think, lass, I never would have come here, met my brothers, if you had not brought me into these mountains... Here, you should take the gauntlets, Kail. You've performed a great service for me and me clan."

"No, Khelgar," she replied. "You keep them. They belong to an Ironfist. Wear them with the pride of knowing that you have helped your people find their home again."

"I... I thank you. I'm far from being a king, but it means a lot to me that you feel I'm worthy enough to wear them," said Khelgar, getting a little teary-eyed.

"This is going to make a most excellent story!" said Grobnar. "Sir Khelgar rises up from his painful past, vanquishes the most heinous of enemies with his stalwart companions, and reclaims a lost powerful relic of his clan's past, ushering in a new era of Dwarven pride and power!"

"Bah. Just remember to include the part with all the blood!" said Khelgar, too happy to browbeat Grobnar for once. "Anyway, the rest of the tunnel back there has been sealed, so if ye're done here, Kail, we could go back to Khulmar. There's nothing left for us to find."

o - o - o - o - o

"If you have not entered the clanhold then you have no business with us," said Khulmar. He and his fellow Dwarfs were still in their camp, tending their wounded and sharpening their weapons.

"We explored the stronghold, but it's been collapsed. There's no way through," said Kail.

"Hnh. The rock in this region has always proven difficult to carve, and it's not one for keeping its shape without a good hammer disciplining it. We'll have to find another way then. There's other entrances we might be able to uncover."

"But we found somethign else, Khulmar," said Khelgar. "Take a look at this... what do you see?"

"It's a pair of gauntlets, Khelgar," said the other Dwarf, examining the gauntlets that Khelgar held out. "Well-crafted, to be sure... and they have the mark of... by Clangeddin's hammer, are my eyes blinded? Are those the Gauntlets of Ironfist?"

"The same. Who knows what other treasures are buried deep in the clanhold, Khulmar. If we found these after a quick search... well, who knows if even the rest of it might be down there."

"You found a relic, Khelgar... part of our history."

"I didn't do it, you have my friend here to thank. And we never would have known this place to be here if you hadn't been here before us, Khulmar. And the Gauntlets... well, they should rest with the clan, I think."

"No, Khelgar. If you two found them, then they were meant to be held by you both -- for a time. When your journey is done, perhaps you shall return them to us."

"Are you good to keep travelling these mountains?" Khelgar asked his kin. "If you want I could-"

"Our wounds have healed, Khelgar, and you have already given us enough aid. Perhaps we were too quick to judge your allies. The Ironfist clan is in your debt, Kail Farlong," he said to her, "this I swear to you in stone and steel. Such a debt shall not be forgotten in days to come. And Khelgar, if your path lies with this one, so be it. But the clan shall await your return home."

"It shall not be long, I think, Khulmar. But someone needs to watch out for this little one or else she'll be lying in a grave."

"I think _I'm_ the one watching _you_," sniffed Kail.

"Very well, Khelgar," said Khulmar, "may stone shield you from the sky, and ale always be at your hand -- but not too much ale, you know how you get after the twelfth tankard." The Dwarfs bowed as Khelgar led his friends to the path down the mountain.

"Well, that was a chance encounter... and a chance to do some good, I think. The Ironfists have had rough times these past few years."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay with your kin, Khelgar?" Kail asked him. She knew first-hand how hard it was to leave home.

"I'm sure. Like I said, somone has to protect you from the Bladelings and the Duergar, not to mention the Tieflings, the Gnomes, the druids..."

"Speaking of druids, I think it's time to go to Skymirror. Are you ready, Elanee?"

"Of course," smiled the Elf. "I have been ready since the moment we met the druid in Neverwinter."

"Then let's go and speak to the loremasters," said Kail.


	27. Skymirror

_27. Skymirror_

As the companions travelled closer to Neverwinter, and further from the mountains, the land began to change. Gone were the cold, bare, wind-swept peaks and occasional stunted birch trees, replaced with lush forests and meadows abundant with wildflowers and herbs. It was as they made camp in such a meadow early one evening that Elanee returned from scouting ahead in the forest.

"This is the place," she said. "The Skymirror is ahead, but there are... challenges that must be faced first."

"Challenges?" asked Kail.

"The path of the Skymirror is a difficult path for anyone not of the Circle to walk -- and it is also sealed against any who might accidentally stray near its waters, both for their protection and those of the circle."

"Sealed in what way?"

"It takes magics of the lands to open the tides of the Skymirror. I suggest that you and the others wait here, in the camp, while I go about opening the path to Skymirror. Once it is safe, I will return for you, and we can examine Skymirror together. I do not know how long it will take me to open the path, however. It could be an hour, or it could be all night."

"Are you sure you'll be okay on your own?" Kail asked. "Is it... safe?"

"Safe enough, for one of the Circle. And later, when Skymirror is opened, you will be safe with me."

"Alright. We'll wait here for as long as it takes you to open the path. Just be careful!" Elanee smiled at Kail's concern, then made her way back into the forest.

"Aren't we going to accompany Elanee?" Casavir asked when Kail rejoined the group.

"Not just yet. She needs to perform some druid rites or something, to open the path to the Skymirror. She'll be back once that's done, and we can join her safely."

"So what have ye got planned until then, lass?" asked Khelgar. He was polishing the Gauntlets of Ironfist with a vengeance.

"I'm going to pick some flowers," she smiled. Khelgar just shook his head as Kail took out a pouch from her backpack and wandered into the meadow. After a moment, Casavir followed her, and Neeshka stuck out her tongue at the paladin's back.

As Kail made her way across the field, the sound of the camp slowly fell away, and she closed her eyes to enjoy the peace and quiet. Where she trod, a myriad of flowers released their perfumed scent, making her feel relaxed and at ease. Whenever she came across a herb that she liked, she scooped it up and put it in her pouch. She had promised herself fresh soup when she returned to Neverwinter, and she probably wouldn't be able to find fresh herbs in the city itself. When at last she had filled her pouch, she sat down in the grass and began plucking flowers, making them into a daisy chain. It was something that she used to do with Amie when they were young, and she smiled at the memory of her friend making a daisy chain crown for Bevil, and fighting him to put it on his head.

Heavy footsteps behind her broke her out of her reverie, and the ground vibrated slightly as someone approached.

"Is there a problem back at camp, Casavir?" she asked without turning.

"No problem, my lady. I'm sorry if I startled you," he said, sitting beside her. Even here he was still wearing his plate armour, as if he expected to be attacked. How could he stand living like that, always encased in armour, always uncomfortable, always expecting to fight?

"You didn't startle me, I heard you coming."

"I was wondering if I could speak to you," he said.

"You already are."

"Yes, of course. I was wondering if you knew much of Tyr?" Kail rolled her eyes.

"Ah, I was wondering when this would come up. I won't be converted, you know."

"I beg your parden?" he said, frowning.

"Neeshka told me that that's what paladins do. They try to convert people to their faith."

"Have you known many paladins?"

"I lived in a swamp all my life. You don't really get religious types in swamps."

"Then I shall enlighten you a little. Paladins do not go around 'trying to convert people', as you put it. They are warriors in service of their God, and, as such, they are sworn to uphold the values of their faith and to protect those who need protecting."

"And who decides who needs protecting? Where were the paladins when the people of my village were being killed by the Duergar?" she said hotly.

"From what you have told me, the attack was a surprise even to your people. I'm sure that if it had been known that your village would be attacked, or if there was an army marching towards your village, then warriors would have been sent to aid your people."

"It wouldn't have mattered," she replied. "My people don't need help from paladins, they're hard working and self-sufficient, capable of protecting their own."

"So... if I understand this correctly, you're angry at me because nobody was there to help protect your village, and yet even had there been paladins or priests sent to help, your people would not have accepted that help."

"Well, when you put it like that, it does make me sound a _little_ crazy," she admitted with a rueful grin. "Anyway, why did you want to know if I know anything of Tyr?"

"Because your friend Khelgar wants to train with the monks of Tyr, and you wish to help him achieve his goal. I just wonder how much you will be able to help, not being one of the devoted yourself," he explained.

"I can help Khelgar just fine, thank you. One does not have to be a fanatic to understand the concepts of faith. From what I've heard of these Trials that Khelgar needs to go through, they are just common sense. Think about the consequences of your actions, don't be prejudiced, know when to fight for a higher purpose, and when to back away."

"Very well. I can see that you have given the quests a lot of thought. I too wish to help Khelgar... if he will accept my help."

"I'm sure he will," she grinned. "It's Harbormen who are infamously stubborn."

o - o - o - o - o

"Praying again, Casavir?" called Khelgar the next morning. Casavir was sat away from the others in silent meditation, while everyone else ate breakfast. "I hope I don't have to spend that much time praying when I'm a monk," he said quietly to Kail.

"The purpose of praying is to receive the blessing of Tyr," Casavir explained as he stood up and rejoined the group for food. "And to meditate on the actions of the previous day. Simply put, you only get out of a faith, what you put into it. You can spend your entire life training to fight, but without a higher goal, a higher purpose, you will never have the conviction of one of the faithful. Fighting for a cause will give you strength when others would fail. It will keep you going when times get tough. And more importantly, it will inspire others to do the same."

"That's the long version of that that crazy priest told me," said Khelgar thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should go and have another talk with him..."

"Look, it's Elanee! She's back!" said Grobnar. And, sure enough, a very tired-looking Elanee had emerged from the trees.

"How did it go?" asked Kail. "Did you manage to open the path to Skymirror?"

"Were there tests?" asked Grobnar, taking out his notepad. "Did you have to vanquish monsters, or face your own fears, or climb into a sweat tent naked and inhale a concoction of hallucinogenic herbs?"

"Can we finally get on with this and get out of here?" asked Qara in irritation.

"Yes, the path to the Skymirror is open, and it is safe for us to proceed," Elanee confirmed. "We should pack up the camp, then we can head back to Neverwinter as soon as we are done here."

o - o - o - o - o

Elanee led the group deep into the forest, and after a few minutes of walking they came to a large, open glade, in the middle of which sat a still pond. They gathered around the edges of the water as Elanee pulled a small piece of wood from her pocket.

"This is Skymirror," she said, indicating the pool of water. "Do not stray too close to its waters... they can be a shock to the uninitiated."

"And what's that?" Kail asked, indicating the piece of wood in her hand.

"A token. An offering we must make to the Skymirror to activate its powers. Now I must tell you that if we do make contact with any of the Circle of Neverwinter Wood, they will only see and hear me. If you wish to ask any questions, you can ask me, and I will relay them to the elders."

"Okay," said Kail. "Let's do it, then. We need answers."

Elanee placed the token on top of the water, where it floated for a moment. Then a bright silver light flashed out from the token to the edge of the lake, and the water within the pool began to ripple, as if blown by a strong breeze. Then, slowly, the water began to coalesce and flow upwards against gravity, until it showed the form of an Elf.

"Elanee? Child, is that you?" asked the figure.

"Elder Naevan? Can you hear me?" asked Elanee.

"Yes child... where are you?"

"I am touching the waters of the Skymirror -- but I had thought to contact the druids of Neverwinter Wood, not one of my own Circle."

"I was travelling for the past season," said Naevan. "Not as long from the Mere as you perhaps, but only recently have I returned from the Sword Coast."

"Where are the Neverwinter Wood druids?" Kail asked.

"This is Elder Naevan, one of my Circle," said Elanee. "He has been a part of it for almost as long as Vashne and the others, but I did not realise he had left the Mere. He cannot hear you, but I will ask him your questions." She turned back to the watery figure. "Elder Naevan, why were you travelling? And where are the druids of Neverwinter Wood?"

"My path has been a long one. What I have found -- and what I have not -- troubles me. Like you, I've had no success in contacting the druids of Neverwinter Wood. I suspect they are avoiding me... or have cut themselves off from others."

"We encountered one in Neverwinter, and he had come in search of one of the Circle of the Mere -- either you or I, but had found no one, not even Elder Vashne," said Elanee.

"That is troubling news. And part of what drove me here. I returned because I felt something was wrong with the Mere, and I have not been able to reach any of the other druids. This feeling from the Mere -- it is like a black silence stretching through Meredelain, and even seeing through the eyes of animals and birds has proved useless."

"Elder Naevan... we did find one of the Circle of the Mere. Kaleil. He was... maddened, and we were forced to kill him," said Elanee, her voice tinged with sadness.

"What? How did this happen?"

"Elder, I do not know. I fear it is tied to whatever is occurring in the Mere. And he said that our Circle... that our Circle was lost. If so, we may be the only two left."

"We shall see with our own eyes first," said the Elder. "This news of Kaleil saddens me. Was there no other way? "

"Elder, Kaleil was driven mad. He had slaughtered the animals of Eridis, tore them apart while he was trapped in the form of a bear."

"Troubling. It must not have been and easy thing to perform such an act of mercy, Elanee."

"Elder Naevan, we came here to ask the lorekeepers of Neverwinter Wood if they knew anything of what was happening to the Mere. And we fear that whatever is occurring in the Mere is tied to a set of silver fragments that we carry," Elanee said.

"Silver fragments? Like the one carried by that village girl you were watching?" asked the Elder. Kail's ears immediately perked up. How could Naevan know that she was carrying a silver shard? She had only picked it up following the attack on West Harbor, and as far as she knew, Elanee hadn't had any contact with her Circle since then.

"Ah... yes. But she did not carry it, it was hidden near the village, I believe. She retrieved it from the Illefarn ruins there," said Elanee quickly.

"Hmm. That is a strange coincidence," said Naevan. "But perhaps not. The darkness clouding the Mere, it is familiar in some respects to the events that occurred at the time of the discovery of those shards. During the war against the King of Shadows long ago, a similar darkness infested the Mere, though not as thick as it is now. Can he have returned? There were many battles fought in the Mere, and at its borders... one even at West Harbor. Elanee, I must continue on to the Mere, and try to find what became of Vashne and the others. Even if they are dead, I must see it with my own eyes... and see what I can do to find out more about this threat and the shards you speak of."

"Of course, Elder Naevan," said Elanee, bowing her head.

"Good fortune, Elanee. I know of your vigil, but now we must focus our sight back to where it belongs... on the lands we tend."

"I... I know, Elder Naevann. Forgive me."

"I will contact you when I know more," said Naevan. "I will send a messenger. You will know it when it arrives. Until we meet again, Elanee, beware the shadows." More quickly that it had appeared, the form of the Elder disappeared, and the waters of Skymirror ran clear once more.

"There is nothing more we can do here, I'm afr-" began Elanee, and then stopped to tilt her head and listen to the wind. "Something is wrong... the spirits are gathering. We must leave at once, we are not welcome here." She did not need to speak twice. Everybody left the edge of the pool, and not even Grobnar asked questions for once. They hurried back towards the meadow where they had camped.

o - o - o - o - o

They made it almost to the forest when a group of figures stepped out of the trees and strode towards the companions. One was a familiar sight; a man dressed in the garb of a shadow priest. The others had the plain look of hired swords, and they flanked the priest protectively. The priest raised a finger and pointed at Elanee.

"Druidess," he said. "We have come for you. You have felt us in the land -- now feel the touch of darkness upon you."

"Don't feel _too_ special," said Qara, stifling a fake yawn. "They wanted _me_ last time. Guess they're settling for second best."

As the hired blades rushed forward to fight, Kail tackled one, and saw Casavir and Khelgar take on one each, as Grobnar and Neeshka peppered the others with arrows and bolts. Qara began hurling fireballs at the last guard, and Elanee went straight for the priest. Khelgar dispatched his opponent easily, and helped Kail with they rushed forward to help Elanee, who was fighting hand-to-hand with the priest as Qara's spells erupted around them. The priest managed to slash Elanee across the shoulder, but before he could get in another shot she shifted into the form of a bear, and grabbed the priest by the chest, crushing his lungs in a powerful bear hug. Kail winced when she heard each of his ribs cracking in turn, but Elanee did not let go until the priest finally stopped flailing.

Looking around the glade, she noticed that the others had killed the rest of the mercenaries, and were picking over the corpses for anything that might identify their assailants. She approached Elanee cautiously as the Elf shifted back into her normal form.

"Are you alright? For a moment there I almost thought that you'd become like... like Kaleil," she said.

"I am fine," said Elanee, only a little out of breath.

"Are you sure it's safe for you to do that? Your friend was trapped in bear form just before he started killing things... and that druid from the Neverwinter Circle said that he got stuck in wolf form and couldn't shift back. Maybe you shouldn't do it... what would happen if we lost you like that?"

"I will be more careful in future, I promise you," said Elanee. "And thank you for your concern. I hadn't even thought of it myself." She turned to nudge the dead body of the priest with her foot. "This is what summoned the protectors of Skymirror here... this priest," said Elanee. "But the way is hidden... how did he manage to find his way here?"

"It's a mystery we'll have to think on later," said Kail. "We have to go before more of them show up." Elanee nodded, and led the way out of the forest.


	28. No rest for the wicked

_28. No rest for the wicked_

"You're back!" said Duncan, pointing out the obvious as Kail and her friends filed into the Sunken Flagon.

"Back and in desperate need of a bath, Uncle," sighed Kail.

"Well you'll have to wait a while yet, Bishop's in there," said Duncan, gesturing for Sal to pour drinks for everyone.

"Wonders will never cease," she grinned.

"I take it your mission was a success?" he asked. Kail took a long draft of her ale and nodded.

"Yep, one Waterdeep emissary safe and sound."

"I see you've made some new friends, too," he said, eyeing up Grobnar and Casavir with suspicion. "They're not going to be like Khelgar, are they?"

"Nothing wrong with being me, barkeep!" said Khelgar as he took a stool by the bar.

"There is if you're the owner of the ale," said Duncan.

"Uncle Duncan," interrupted Kail, "this is Grobnar and Casavir. They helped rescue Issani, and they want to help me get into Blacklake to see Aldanon too."

"Nice to meet you two," said Duncan. "Any friend of Kail's is a friend of mine. You're not big drinkers, are you?"

"Ah, the tales I could tell you about drinking too much," said Grobnar. "I once knew an Uthgardt barbarian who thought it would be amusing to challenge a priest of Helm to a drinking contest. And not just any drink, but moonshine! It turned out that the priest had cast-"

"Grobnar," said Kail in mock severity.

"Well that is to say, no, I don't drink much. I prefer to keep a clear head. Helps to get the muses flowing," he reassured Duncan.

"Excessive drinking is a vice in Tyr's eyes... and in mine," said Casavir. At the bar, Khelgar had a coughing fit.

"Well that's okay then," said Duncan. "At least I know that you won't put me out of business, unlike the free-loading Dwarf over there."

"Hey Duncan," said Neeshka, "has anything happened while we've been gone? With Moire dead things must have been pretty chaotic down here at the Docks."

"Not much, lass," he replied. "There was some fighting to begin with, but it soon became obvious that the Watch was back in control. Things are finally getting back to normal here."

"What about Blacklake?" asked Kail.

"No more murders, but it's still locked tight. Did the Captain agree to let you in yet?"

"Not yet. She gave us the rest of the day to relax and clean up and restock our supplies, but she wants us back at the Watch House tomorrow for more orders."

"So have you got anything planned for the rest of the day?" he asked.

"Yes," she smiled. "I'm going to make soup."

o - o - o - o - o

"Ah. I'd heard the eternal shepherd was back from her travels. And with some new additions to her flock, no less."

Kail looked up as Bishop sauntered into the kitchen and propped his elbow against a shelf. She had no idea how he had gotten past Sal. The kitchen was his domain, every utensil his weapon against the harsh world of hungry tavern-dwellers; he only let her in because she was related to Duncan.

"Tell me, do you go out _looking_ for these people, or do they just start following you like stray dogs? Because if it's the latter, you should really stop encouraging them, or things are going to get a little crowded around here." She ignored his goading as she sprinkled thyme into the pan of soup on the oven top. "You're ignoring me, wildcat? Come on, even the Elf gave me one of her condescending glares when she saw me. Surely you can top that."

"Parsley."

"Is that some new kind of insult? If it is, you might want to work on it a little. I've heard better from Her Highness," he said with a sniff. She turned and blinked at him.

"No. Parsley. On the shelf by your arm. I need it. But I'm glad to see that your vocabulary has improved whilst I've been away. I remember a time when single-word sentences confused your poor ranger mind. And now look at you; overwhelmed by the simplicity of a herb. It's good that you've grown as an individual." The smile he gave her was feral, but he picked up the herbs and brought them to her. "And somebody's been training you to perform simple tasks, too. Now what is my uncle going to do without you sitting around wasting space all day? Thank you." She chopped the herbs as he stuck his head over the pan and sniffed.

"Trust me, no amount of parsley is going to improve the taste of the swamp water you're cooking," he said, wrinkling his nose.

"You only think that because you've been deprived of my herb and leek soup all your life. Now, be a good ranger and tell Her Majesty to fetch me something drinkable. Unless Khelgar's already drunk it all," she said drily.

"Before I summon the princess, tell me what you're doing with a paladin," he said, narrowing his eyes at her. She suppressed a sigh. Could she get a moment's peace nowhere? She had thought that the kitchen would be a haven, free from Elanee's constant talking about the land, from Casavir's occasional Tyr-prompted lectures, from Grobnar's never-ending humming, from Qara's ceaseless complaining, and Neeshka and Khelgar's continued bickering. But here she was, back at the Flagon for only five minutes, and Bishop was already annoying her.

She let a slow, wide smile creep across her face, and wished she had mastered the fine art of blushing on command. He merely snorted.

"I don't believe _that_, wildcat. But let me give you a little advice, free of charge. Holy warriors are nothing but trouble, and the gods don't look kindly on mortals who steal from their flock. And that one has Tyr's mark on him, which means he's more jumped-up and righteous than most of them. And what's more, paladins don't belong in dockside taverns. Especially not **this** dockside tavern. Sooner or later the stench of his judgemental holier-than-thou attitude will drive away every patron, and then you and your uncle will be out on the streets with no business and nowhere to live. Do everybody a favour and get rid of him now. And maybe see if he'll take the Elf with him."

Kail smiled to herself as the kitchen door slammed shut behind the ranger. That was the longest speech she had ever heard him make. Did Casavir really upset him so much? It might be worth keeping him around after all.

o - o - o - o - o

While Kail was making soup, everybody else took it in turns to bathe. Neeshka went first, and after a decent soak and a lot of scrubbing, she even fancied that the stench of bugbear blood had finally disappeared. She stepped out of the bath and rubbed her body dry, then ran the towel over her hair. It was getting long again; she hated long hair, it fell into her eyes and was a constant irritation. She would have to ask Kail to cut it. Later, though. Right now there was a nice warm fire calling to her, and a tankard of ale that, hopefully, Khelgar hadn't taken it upon himself to drink.

She hurried down the chilly corridor, flicking her tail from side to side to shake out the moisture. Duncan sure had a good thing going here. Nice warm tavern, plenty of ale, decent food... it was better than most places she had lived before, and she intended to take full advantage of it.

"Your turn," she told Khelgar, reclaiming her ale from his hands before he could drink it.

"Bah, you could have stayed in there longer!" he grumbled, but got up and trundled towards the bathroom anyway. Grinning, she took her tankard and grabbed one Duncan's books from the fireplace, then curled up in a chair by the fire and opened it to page one.

Pretending to read, she had discovered, was an excellent way to listen to what people were saying without them realising it. As long as you did not react to what they were saying, and appeared to be engrossed in your book, nobody thought you were doing anything but what you appeared. As she turned the page she turned her head slightly so that she could hear what was being said around her.

"...why you're not listening to me! I told you I'm done with your tables!" That was Qara.

"You're done when I say you're done. You can travel with Kail all you like, but when you've nothing else to do you can get back to cleaning," Duncan replied. _Boring._ She turned her head slightly again, to where Elanee and Casavir were sitting quietly having a drink. She was willing to bet that it was both their first, and last, of the night. Elanee was talking, so Neeshka concentrated on her voice as she turned another page of the book.

"...quite sure."

"What does Kail think about it?" Casavir asked.

"I don't know, I haven't had chance to talk to her about it yet. I was hoping to do that tonight. I didn't really expect her to disappear into the kitchen as soon as we got back."

"Yes, she is... unique," said Casavir. "But if this shadow priest who attacked us at the Skymirror is working with the same ones you saw at Fort Locke and Highcliff, and also with the one who tried to conscript Qara, then that suggests we could be dealing with a highly organised and wide-spread group."

"I've had similar thoughts myself, but I can't figure out where the bladelings, Duergar and githyanki come into all of this," said Elanee. "It seems that the only thing they are interested in is finding, or possibly killing, Kail. And yet the shadow priests, whoever they are, have almost ignored her. They've shown more interest in myself and Qara than they have in Kail, and we're sure that they were raising an army of undead in Fort Locke and Highcliff. But for what purpose?"

"It seems to me that we have two groups working against us, then," said Casavir. "The githyanki and their thralls, who want Kail or these shards that she's carrying... and the shadow priests and their undead allies, whose actions and motives remain unknown to us."

"It is the unknown which worries me more," Elanee said gloomily. _Yeesh. Don't those two ever lighten up? We're alive, we've got good food and good ale and lots of gold in our pockets... you'd think it's the end of the world the way those two go on!_

Bored with their conversation, she tried to locate Grobnar. She could just about make out the Gnome's voice, but she couldn't hear what he was saying. His comments were interspersed with two deep male voices, so she guessed he was talking to Fenton and Weasle. Why anybody would want to talk to that pair was beyond her. Still, it wasn't as if Grobnar was playing with a full set of marbles even on the best of days.

"Psst!" Neeshka looked up from her book for the sound of the hissing. In the corner of the room, by the front door, stood a boy. When he noticed her looking at him he motioned her over.

"Hey, don't I know you?" she said as she approached.

"Yeah, my name's Wolf. You helped me out once."

"I did?" Funny, she didn't remember helping any kids.

"Well, your friend did. The funny-smelling girl who used to dress like a farmer."

"Oh right, now I remember. So why are you going 'pssst' at me?"

"Because," he said, "I have a message for you."

o - o - o - o - o

"Soup," said Kail, lifting the heavy pot and setting it on a heat-stand on top of the bar. "And bread," she gestured as Sal walked out of the kitchen behind her carrying a tray of freshly baked rolls.

"Mmm, smells a lot better than travelling rations!" said Khelgar, grabbing a bowl and hurrying to the front of the queue.

"I could be very happy never eating rations again," she replied. "Now, I'm going to go and have a nice hot bath, and then when I get out I will enjoy my soup _without_ the smell of blood and dirt and orcs to ruin my appetite."

"Don't worry lass, I'll make sure there's plenty left for ye," he assured her. She gave him a flourish of an imaginary cloak and made her way into the bathroom. It didn't take long for her to fill the bath with hot water, and she tentatively lowered herself into it so as not to burn herself.

One by one her muscles relaxed, and the tension left her body. Things were finally looking up. Brelaina had promised her that there would only be a couple more missions before she would be allowed into Blacklake, and she finally had a decent bed to sleep in. With any luck this Aldanon fellow might want to keep the shards for himself, for study, and then she could get back to... to what?

Could she go home? Would she be happy settling back into the old routines? Would she be content living with her father, doing as she was told? Home wouldn't be the same without Amie, she realised. All this time she had been wanting nothing more than to get back there, to resume her old life. Now, she realised, she had a new life. Perhaps it wasn't even possible to go back to the old. What was it that Lucas used to say? 'Once you've left home, you can never go back. It will never, ever be the same. It will always be a lot smaller than you remembered it, and the people will have grown and moved on without you.'"

_Ah, Lucas. You're so full of cheerful observations,_ she thought. _But what could I do if I don't go home? Maybe I could stay on here, remain in the Watch, fighting crime and whatever. I'm sure Brelaina would be happy for me to remain a lieutenant. Or perhaps I could learn how to become a thief from Neeshka, and descend into the underworld of city life. Ha. Maybe not. But if I don't go back home I'll at least help my friends with their problems. I'll help Khelgar to become the best damn monk in Faerûn. I'll help Elanee find her Circle and discover what's tainting the land. I'll help Qara... well, I'll probably just ignore Qara._

Having decided where her fate lay, and feeling much cheered up, she washed the dust and blood from her body and stepped out of the bath, dressing in a change of clothing that smelled wonderfully clean. Then, feeling ready to face the world again, she returned to the common room for her soup.

Before she had chance to rejoin her friends, Neeshka approached looking somewhat unhappy.

"Hey Kail, you remember those kids that you helped out before we went to Old Owl Well?" she asked.

"Dory and Wolf and their friends?"

"Yeah, well it seems they've been living upstairs in the roof of the Flagon in return for doing favours and things for Duncan. You know, helping to clean up while Her Royal Highness Princess Qara's been away, doing errands and running messages, that sort of stuff."

"Is there something wrong with that?" she asked the thief.

"No, but I just had a message off one of them... it seems Leldon knows I'm back in Neverwinter, though I've no idea how he found out so fast, must have had people watching out for me. Anyway, he wants to meet with me tonight, in the park. I just thought that... you know, you might like to come along, just in case he tries to kill me again..." she smiled weakly.

"Sure. I'm sure that once Leldon sees everyone he'll back down," she replied.

"That's just it, Kail. I don't want to take everyone. I'm fed up of being judged by Elanee and I just _know_ that I'll end up getting a lecture of Casavir about how..." she altered the tone of her voice to mimic the paladin, "'Thieving is wrong and amoral, and Tyr frowns on immoral acts'. Let's just the two of us go, just you and me. For old times' sake?" she begged.

"If it's for old times' sake then we need to take Khelgar too," said Kail. "Plus, if Leldon's planned anything violent, it'll give Khelgar a chance to show off his new gauntlets. You know he's just been itching for a chance to try them out, and I don't think Duncan will appreciate it if he starts punching his customers."

"Alright, I can agree to that. Thanks Kail, you're the best friend ever!" grinned Neeshka.

o - o - o - o - o

"Tell me again why we don't just arrest this Leldon character," said Khelgar as the three walked through the Merchant District towards the park.

"Because we don't have any reason to," said Kail. She subconsciously touched all of her hidden knives and the daggers at her belt, and noticed Neeshka doing the same. Khelgar, as if to make a point about the power of the Gauntlets, had come unarmed.

"He's a thief," he replied. "Good enough for me."

"Neeshka's a thief too," she pointed out,

"So you think we should just arrest them both?" asked Khelgar with a wicked gleam in his eye.

"Hey, I helped you at your clanhold, Stumpy. If it wasn't for me we'd all still be sitting up there, staring up at a machine and listening to Grobnar trying to get it working," said Neeshka. Khelgar shuddered.

"Good point, demon. Well, at least leave all of the fighting to me, if there's going to be any. Somebody, soon, is going to feel the righteous fury of an Ironfist!"

"Fine by me," said Neeshka happily.

"Well, we're here," said Kail as they walked through the gates of the park. "Can you see Leldon anywhere?"

"Hmm... no. Maybe we're early. Or late. The message said ten o'clock, what time is it now?" asked Neeshka. At that moment a clock in the distance started chiming, and after the tength stroke three figures stepped out from a row of bushes further down the path.

"Well well, if it isn't my old friend Neeshka," said the leader, obviously Leldon.

"It's been a long time, Leldon, but personally I could have gone a lot longer without seeing you again," replied Neeshka. "And I see you're actually doing your own dirty work now. Did you finally run out of hired help?"

"No, I still have plenty of hired help, I just don't need any to deal with you. You see, the only reason that I came here was to take back the coin that I stole from you."

"Ha, you couldn't steal a coin from me and keep hold of it once, what makes you think you're going to be able to do it again?" she scoffed.

"My friends here are going to hold you down, while I take the coin from your purse," said Leldon. As he gestured, the two men with him took a step forward.

"Touch her and you'll have Khelgar to deal with!" said Kail.

"That's right!" said Khelgar. "An' personally I'm hoping you _will_ touch her, because that means I get to beat you into a bloody pulp with my bare fists."

"Get the girl," said Leldon. "Those two are members of the City Watch. They won't dare drag themselves into this."

"Wrong," Kail smiled, as Khelgar leapt forward to place himself in front of Neeshka. The Dwarf's fists moved in a blur; the first man he punched went flying back into a tree, where he hit his head and fell unconscious to the ground. The second man screamed as Khelgar picked him up and started spinning him in a circle. Then, when the pair had a decent momentum, Khelgar threw the man over a nearby wall. They heard him crash down on the other side, but then he was silent.

"Your turn," said Khelgar, grinning like a madman as he advanced towards Leldon.

"I will settle you another day, Neeshka," said Leldon. He grabbed something from his pocket and threw it on the ground. Kail coughed as thick smoke filled her lungs, and she hurried away from the thick black cloud, followed by her friends.

"Smoke bomb," said Neeshka. "He _always_ does that when he's beaten. Anyway, I guess this means we won. If Leldon knows what's good for him he'll stay away from me in future."

"Something tells me that Leldon is not a man who knows what's good for him," said Kail drily.

"Something tells me that Leldon has a death wish," said Khelgar. "But let's get back to the Flagon. I think we need a tankard or two to celebrate."


	29. An end in sight

_29. An end in sight_

Early the next morning Kail led her strange procession through the streets of the Merchant District. Behind her was Khelgar, her stalwart and trustworthy companion since the first day she left West Harbor. At his side, and talking avidly to him about something, was Neeshka. Of all the people in her group, she found herself feeling most comfortable around the Tiefling. Neeshka had no expectations of her; she just wanted a friend. It was the simplicity of her character that Kail enjoyed the most. With Neeshka, what you saw was what you got.

Qara, stomping behind them and obviously in a bad mood, was the least favourite of her new friends. The girl lacked discipline. She was cocky, showy, and cared little for anything other than herself and using her powers. It was a wonder somebody hadn't put her in her place yet.

Behind Qara came Elanee and Casavir, walking in silence. Elanee looked sad, and Casavir wary. That wasn't so hard to understand; Elanee had just learnt that not only were her own Circle missing, but also the Circle of Neverwinter Wood. And from what Callum had said at Old Owl Well, Casavir had left Neverwinter possibly in bad graces. If there was somebody who objected to his returning, he would want to see them coming.

Last of all came Grobnar, fingering his flute and humming to himself as he followed the rest of the group. In true bardic fashion, the Gnome was off in his own little world inside his head; she wondered how he managed to notice anything around him at all. Still, Grobnar _did_ contribute to the group. His knowledge of mechanical inventions and anything constructed by mortal hands was astounding. He knew more about the realms than she did, probably because he had travelled through them more. And he was constantly surprising her with the depth of his knowledge.

As the Watch House loomed into view, Kail sighed and straightened her cloak. Brelaina had promised her that after a couple more tasks she would finally be allowed into Blacklake. For Kail, it couldn't happen soon enough. _But what if Aldanon is the next person to be murdered? _she thought, stopping in her tracks. _While I'm jumping through hoops for Brelaina, Aldanon could be locked in that district with a killer._

"Is something wrong lass?" asked Khelgar.

"No, I was just thinking about something," she said absently. No need to worry everybody else with such thoughts. "Let's get this over with, shall we?" He nodded, and they marched into the Watch House.

Captain Brelaina looked up from her desk as the group filed into the room. Behind her, Marshal Cormick smiled at Kail and indicated for her to take a chair.

"Good morning, lieutenant," said Brelaina, as she slid into the seat opposite the Captain. "You are to be commended for your efforts on Neverwinter's behalf. I hear that Lord Nasher himself has been told of your deeds, and I wouldn't be surprised if there is a commendation in this for you." Kail winced.

"Thank you, Captain, but I was merely following your orders. I think we both know that I'm not interested in commendations. If you wish to reward me, however, there is that small matter of Blacklake..."

"Yes, I am aware of how badly you want to enter the district. Well, I have some good news for you, and some bad," Brelaina replied.

"I think I'd like the good new first."

"The good news is that you could be in Blacklake as soon as tomorrow... maybe even tonight."

"That's excellent news," Kail smiled. Behind her she heard the others whispering in excitement.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, lieutenant. The bad news is that although your efforts at the Docks have paved the way for the Watch to retake control, they have also opened the door for other... predators."

"_Luskan_ predators," spat Cormick.

"We've already had trouble with Luskans at the Dock," she told them.

"Likely not of this magnitude. We've received word from one of our sources that a Luskan spy is being sent here on a merchant ship called The Sea Ghost. It just so happens that the ship is currently anchored in the harbour, awaiting permission to dock. I want you to be there waiting when that permission is received. Board the Sea Ghost, arrest the Luskan spy, and return with him in your custody," said Brelaina.

"Consider it done," said Kail, standing and giving the Captain a bow with a flourish of her cloak.

"Err... Kail..." said Grobnar, tugging at her sleeve anxiously.

"Oh yes, I nearly forgot. Could we get a Watch cloak for Grobnar?" she asked Brelaina.

o - o - o - o - o

"I say, it really was nice of the Captain to go through all the trouble of finding me this smaller sized cloak," said Grobnar. The Gnome was stood tall, for his height, and proud, as the wind whipped his cloak around him. It was a dull, grey morning, and the sky had been threatening rain for hours. The Docks were bustling with action; longshoremen hurried to and fro, loading and unloading cargo from the merchant ships in port. Sailors sauntered down the docks, returning to their boats or leaving to find a tavern to spend their coin.

"There's The Sea Ghost," said the harbourmaser, pointing to a ship that was rounding the wall of the bay.

"Does their itinerary say where they've been?" Kail asked him.

"Straight here from Luskan, m'lady."

"And Lord Nasher allows the Luskans to trade with Neverwinter? After how Luskan nearly destroyed this city in the war?" It seeme crazy, to her, that an enemy should be allowed within sight of the city. If she was Nasher she would not have let a single Luskan merchant within a day's walk of Neverwinter.

"Of course, m'lady. Trade is trade. In fact, there was even some trade going on _during_ the war. You see, merchants care most of all about profits. So what if their leaders are involved in a misguided war against their trading partners? It's just the way trade works, m'lady," he said.

"Thank you, harbourmaster. By the way, do you know when the Double Eagle is due back from Waterdeep?"

"Tonight as a matter of fact, m'lady. Could be tomorrow if they've had ill winds. Would you like to leave a message for them?"

"No thank you. That will be all," she said, dismissing him. Instead of leaving he took his hat off and began wringing it nervously in his hands.

"Err... m'lady, I know that Captain Brelaina sent you to pick up a Luskan spy... I just want to know... well, is this likely to turn violent? No offence to you and yours, of course," he said, nodding at the group, "but I doubt the spy will go quietly. I'm wondering if it might be best for me to clear the Docks."

"That sounds like an excellent idea, harbourmaster. But wait until the ship is moored, won't you? I don't want them to see everybody running away, and getting suspicious and turning around. We need them docked first," she suggested.

"Will do, m'lady," he beamed, bowing and hurrying away.

"That was very well handled," said Casavir quietly to her.

"What, are you _assessing_ me?" she asked, shooting him a skeptical glance.

"Not at all. I was merely observing that you have exceptional people-skills. You are a born leader, if you don't mind me saying." She snorted in amusement, but said nothing. Let him think she was a leader, if he wanted. She knew better. She wasn't a leader, she was just herself.

It wasn't long before the merchant ship was tied securely at the dock, and, true to his word, the harbourmaster ushered everybody away from the area. A gangplank was lowered and men began to disembark the ship. Kail stepped forward, and everybody followed her.

"Hey, you there, get away from my ship!" Shouted one of the men. The Captain, she guessed.

"I'm a member of the city Watch," she replied. "And I'm here under orders."

"What of it? We haven't given you permission to approach. Off the docks with you!"

"I don't _need_ your permission to approach," she smiled sweetly. "You see, this isn't your city. If I was in your city, I would respect your rules, and do as you say. Now that you're in _my_ city, you can respect _my_ rules and do as _I_ say. Now, this ship is from Luskan, yes?"

"Yeah, we're from Luskan," he said. "If you think the troubles with Ruathym are going to keep our tradeships away, you're wrong. We Luskans travel where we want, when we want, and if we want to land here in this filthole of a city, then we will."

"Captain Brelaina has sent me here to make sure you _don't_ land in the city."

"It's an open city, so if you don't like it, to the Hells with you," he spat.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "I _was_ sent here to arrest a Luskan spy. But since I don't know who he is or what he looks like, I suppose I'll just have to arrest _all_ of you. Just to be on the safe side."

"Like Hell you are," he said. "Weapons at the ready, lads! We're about to kill ourselves more Neverwinter dogs!"

He leapt forward and drew a sword, slashing at Kail. She ducked and rolled, throwing one of her knives under-hand. It struck him squarely between the shoulder blades, and he fell to the floor. The rest of the ship's crew erupted into a fight, and soon her companions were fighting for their lives. Again.

"If you believe that slaughtering these men will somehow protect your precious city, then you are sadly mistaken," said a voice behind her. She turned towards the ship and found herself watching someone descend. The man's hair was bright blue, as were the iris' of his eyes. Dressed in long, flowing robes and devoid of any weapon, the man was obviously a mage. He turned to address more of the men who were also disembarking the vessel. "Destroy them, but mind the ship. We'll be needing it to leave this place once our business here is completed."

Instinctively Kail jumped backwards, just as the mage raised his hand and sent a fireball hurtling towards her. An instant later Casavir ran forward, his weapon swinging in an arc as he aimed for the mage's head, and... nothing! Casavir's blow struck air, and he was sent flying backwards. _So,_ thought Kail, _he's managed to shield himself. Well, we'll just have to deal with that..._

"Qara!" she called. The sorceress looked up from casting a spell at one of the sailors. "Get that mage's defenses down!" The girl nodded, and turned her attention to the mage.

Although Kail could not see anything happening, she knew that Qara was doing... _something_. The air around the mage began to ripple, as if it was being super-heated. She drew her daggers and began slashing at the man, trying to keep him distracted from Qara more than trying to hit him. Suddenly a sheet of lightning hit the mage, and he collapsed onto the floor as his shield collapsed. Kail nodded her thanks at Elanee. The mage groaned.

"And so it seems my prey was waiting for me. I yield, Harborman," he said with a disheartened laugh.

"I was your prey?" Kail asked in disbelief.

"Indeed. My Master has grown impatient with the frequency with which you cross our path."

"I'm getting pretty impatient with you Luskan dogs myself," she replied.

"Luskan?" said the mage, a puzzled look on his face. "Ah, you think that my master and Luskan are one and the same. No, it is a sleight of hand you see, where the left does not see what the right is doing... and the four Hosttowers do not yet see what the Master of the Fifth plots."

"Master of the Fifth Tower...?" she prompted.

"Yes, Black Garius, my master. But he does not serve Luskan, not at all -- his ambitions lie higher than nations, I think. When Luskan finds out what he plots, I do not think they shall be pleased, but by then, I think, it shall be too late."

"You seem to 'think' a whole lot," said Kail. "Do you actually _know_ anything, or is this just pure speculation on your behalf?"

"You should know... you have crossed him more than once," the mage smiled. "I was sent to remind you that you would serve us better in death." He raised his hand, and called forth a ball of fire. But, faster than he, Casavir brought his hammer down on the mage's arm, and he lost control of the spell. From behind Kail came a blast of missiles, which Qara sent streaming towards the mage. Every missile hit its mark, and he collapsed on the floor bleeding from head to toe.

"Well, that's going to make it a little difficult to arrest him and take him to Brelaina," said Kail wryly.

"I'm very sorry for saving your life," said Qara. "Maybe next time I'll just let someone hurl a fireball at you, and see how much you thank me then."

"This Black Garius fellow that he mentioned," said Grobnar thoughtfully. "Do you think that 'Black' is his name, or a description ascribed to him because of his arcane leanings? If it's the latter, he may be a necromancer of sorts. I can't imagine a mother naming her child 'Black'."

"What are you going to tell Captain Brelaina?" asked Casavir. He was looking at her with a serious expression. A little _too _serious for her liking.

"That the Luskan spy resisted arrest, and we were forced to kill him in self defence," she replied. "'Brelaina doesn't need to know what he said. If it's me they're after, then it's no concern of Neverwinter."

"Very well, but I do not like being part of this duplicity," he sighed.

"Then go back to Old Owl Well," she said, irritated. Why couldn't everybody just understand that it was _her _life at stake, so she was going to do things _her_ way. If somebody slipped up then _she_ would be the one in trouble... not the others. Casavir could gamble all he liked with his own life, but **not** with hers.

"We better go and report this to Brelaina then, lass," said Khelgar. She nodded, and led the way back to the merchant district. Neeshka gave the mage's body a quick going over, but, finding nothing of worth, hastily followed her friends.

o - o - o - o - o

"Don't worry about the Luskan spy being dead," said Brelaina. "It's better him than you."

"Really? I thought that the Watch frowned on that sort of thing," said Kail. "You know, killing people."

"We frown on killing people who are innocent, and people who are citizens of Neverwinter," Brelaina clarified. "Luskan spies are another matter altogether."

"Taking care of that ship did not get rid of all the Luskans, but it hurt them, and that's good enough for me," added Cormick.

"I hope that none of the Luskans escaped your notice... they tend to hold grudges," said the Captain.

"I think we were pretty throrough," said Kail.

"Good. Now lieutenant, I have just received word from the Nine. They believe assassins are in Neverwinter -- and they have asked for our help in dealing with them. There was some hesistation in them asking for our assistance. The incidents in the Docks have caused... questions. I am not sure they trust my -- our -- ability." said Brelaina. "Yet we have the location, and I am giving you your orders. Proceed to the warehouse in this quarter and deal with the situation. If they are a threat to Neverwinter, I want their presence here removed. Go now, prepare yourself, and report back here once you have dispatched this threat to Neverwinter," she said, dismissing them. Kail bowed, and followed her friends from the room.

"I've never met an assassin before, I'm quite looking forward to it!" said Grobnar once they were outside the Watch House.

"How would you know if you've met one? It's not like they wear name tags saying 'Hi, my name's Bob, I'm an assassin'," said Neeshka.

"Well, I imagine that they tend to dress in black a lot, have an unhealthy obsession with knives and a collection of poisonous treefrogs big enough to make even the most avid of amphibian collectors jealous," he replied.

"Nuh-huh. Assassins are usually the guy you never suspect. They look average, don't draw attention to themselves, sound just like you and me... the whole point of being an assassin is that your mark doesn't notice you until it's too late," Neeshka explained.

"It sounds like you have a lot of experience with assassins," said Casavir.

"I've known a couple in my time. Obviously not in a _professional_ sense, since I'm still alive, aren't I?" she said.

"Before we go, I'd like to give everybody the chance to go back to the Flagon," said Kail. "I don't want anybody to feel like they're being forced into fighting assassins. It could be dangerous."

"More dangerous than hordes of rampaging orcs?" asked Khelgar.

"Or entire tribes of bugbears?" Neeshka added.

"Or shadow priests and their undead minions?" said Elanee.

"Or Grobnar's singing?" asked Qara.

"Oh, I _am_ glad that my composing touches you so _deeply_, Qara!" said Grobnar with a smile. Qara just blinked, and Kail suppressed a grin. It was very, very hard to tell whether he was being sarcastic or sincere.

"I shall stick by you, as I promised I would," said Casavir.

"Okay," she relented. "I just wanted to give everybody a chance to duck out with no hard feelings. Now, Neeshka, since you know this district best, could you lead us to where Brelaina said the assassins are holed up?"

o - o - o - o - o

"I hate the githyanki," said Kail with feeling.

"Yeah, you would have thought that Captain Brelaina would've _told_ us that the assassins' stronghold is a githyanki lair," said Neeshka.

"I suspect that she did not know, otherwise she _would_ have told us," said Casavir, wiping githyanki blood off his hammer.

"Bah, what difference does it make?" asked Khelgar. "Orcs, humans, bugbears, githyanki... we'll fight the lot and come out on top every time!"

"I'm out of spells," said Qara.

"As am I," said Elanee.

"Good!" said Khelgar, his eyes gleaming. "That leaves more fer me to deal with!"

"I think you're enjoying this _way_ too much, Khelgar," said Neeshka.

"And you enjoy thieving way too much, fiendling, but you don't hear me nagging you about it all the time," he replied.

"I suppose two or three times a day doesn't count as 'nagging' in your twisted Dwarf mind," said Neeshka.

"There's something mysterious and ominous in this room!" called Grobnar, pointing at a closed door.

"How can you tell?" asked Elanee.

"Well, my first clue was that it's locked," he said. "And my second was the fact that there's a strange, eerie blueish green light coming through under the door." Kail smiled when she noticed he was right.

"What do you think it could be?"

"Oh, just about anything really. Maybe the githyanki have a large collection of glow-worms, or it could be a neon-ooze monster, or maybe there's a planetar in that room, or perhaps a very large..."

"I think we ge the point, Gnome," said Khelgar as Neeshka stepped forward with her picks at the ready. It didn't take long for her to unlock the door, and when Kail pushed it open, everybody else crowded around to look inside. The room held three githyanki guards, and... she had never seen anything like it. A huge, blue sphere, centered between a series of curved arms. As Kail and her friends stared at the sphere, trying to make heads or tails of it, a shadow suddenly appeared within the orb. An instant later it.. _shimmered_... and what stepped through the portal and into the room was a huge construct. A huge construct with large blades at the end of its arms. Kail drew her daggers, though she doubted they would have much of an effect on the metal behemoth.

Instead of attacking her and her friends, however, the golem made straight for the githyanki. It wasn't until the githyanki were dead that it turned its attention to them. Kail quickly stepped to the side of the room, allowing Casavir and Khelgar to pass her.

Everytime one of the warriors tried to get in a blow, the golem twisted its razor-sharp arms and slashed at them, forcing them back. Kail itched to help, but there was nothing she could do. Her daggers were small, and would probably break on the construct's shell. Casavir, with his hammer, and Khelgar, with his mace, were the only ones who stood a chance at harming the golem.

"Hey, look, I found a scroll in my pocket," said Qara. "I wonder how long I've had it for."

"Well don't just stand there, read it!" Kail ordered.

"Okay, okay, no need to get edgy." The sorceress read the words from the page and lifted her finger to point at the construct. Even before she had finished speaking, Kail knew what the effects would be. She had seen Amie use the spell before, to catch the Mossfeld brothers in a sticky web. As Qara's spell took effect, the golem's arms became entangled in the web, and it was no longer able to swing its blades. Khelgar and Casavir immediately began to pummel the construct with their weapons, denting its body. But even trapped, it twisted and flailed with a fury, and slowly its arms began to work free.

"Do you have any more scrolls?" she asked Qara.

"No. Don't _you_? I thought you were a bard," the girl replied.

"Damnit, we're in trouble now," said Khelgar as the construct broke free.

"Back away!" said Kail, "We'll have to lure it into a smaller space where it can't swing its blades around!" Khelgar and Casavir immediately stepped back, but the golem, instead of following, turned and ran back through the portal. Khelgar took two steps to follow it.

"I wouldn't go near that if I was you, Sir Khelgar!" warned Grobnar. Khelgar stopped to look at the Gnome, and in the next instant the portal exploded.

"Well, I guess that's that," said Khelgar. "And I owe ye me thanks, Gno... Grobnar, fer saving me from exploding along with that thing. I guess we managed to beat the thing enough to scare it off!"

"What in the Nine Hells _was_ that?" asked Qara, dusting off her robe though it wasn't actually dirty.

"Just to make sure my eyes aren't lying to me -- a huge suit of armour _did_ smash through here, attack the githyanki and us, before we drove it back into that portal.... right?" asked Khelgar.

"No... no, that's about right," said Neeshka.

"Good. Because if my drinking is catching up with me, I'm stopping right now."

"Why... that was a golem. A golem with blades. Wasn't he magnificent? The construction... the elegance... the sheep _sharpness_ of those blades... the work of a maser craftsman indeed!" said Grobnar. His eyes were wide and shining with excitement.

"It is good that it was driven back through that portal. If it hadn't..." said Elanee thoughtfully.

"We should follow it! I mean... if the portal was still open," said Grobnar. "Which it's not. But to let it get away before taking a good look at it, why, we're missing out!"

"I do not know who sent that golem, but since it was attacking the gityhanki, I think it is safe to say that they did not send it," Casavir mused.

"What say we just go back to the nice, safe, construct-less Watch House, hmm?" asked Neeshka, edging towards the door. "I mean, that thing barely seemed to notice you guys hitting it. I vote we avoid anything else like that."

"I think you have my vote on that too," said Kail. "Let's go and tell Brelaina that we've finished here. It should make her happy that we've sorted things before the Nine even showed up."

"Yes, we should go now, before the Nine arrive," said Casavir, hastening towards the door. Neeshka raised a questioning eyebrow at Kail; in their private language it meant 'what's his problem?'. She merely shrugged. _No idea._

o - o - o - o - o

When Kail and her friends returned to the Watch House, they realised that Captain Brelaina was not alone. With them was a woman dressed in the attire of a Greycloak commander, and two other Greycloaks were with her. Kail sidled upto Brelaina's desk as unobtrusively as possible.

"Lieutenant," said Brelaina. "These men are from the Nine, under the service of Captain Nevalle."

"You know our orders were that you give _us_ the location of the assassins, Captain Brelaina, and let us deal with them," said the woman Greycloak. "And now with the death of Lord Hawkes, I think the Watch's attention could have been better spent elsewhere."

"I believe the Nine and the Cloaktower are the ones responsible for the Watch in Blacklake -- this matter was something my lieutenant could handle on her own, and has. I hope you're not blaming us for Lord Hawkes' death. As I recall, the orders given to the Watch were to man the gates of Blacklake and solely act as couriers for the Nine and the Cloaktower mages." said Brelaina. "We are, as always, ready and able to serve Neverwinter in any capacity requested... if you wish us to take a greater role in the Blacklake investigations, then we would be happy to assist."

"I doubt any order I give you will be followed to the letter, Captain, but I appreciate your gesture nontheless," said the woman. "Good day Captain. Lieutenant." She and the other two Greycloaks turned and marched out the room, their cloaks flowing behing them.

"As you no doubt heard, lieutenant, while you were on your mission there was another death in Blacklake. Lord Hawkes," said the Captain.

"What happened?" asked Kail.

"Lord Hawkes died in the same manner as Lord Gentry and Lord Dalren. There was no forced entry, and no wounds upon the body. He was struck dead, his body found only an hour ago."

"Does that mean you won't allow me into Blacklake?" she sighed.

"You have done all I asked at the Docks, and now I am giving you official permission to enter the Blacklake District. But do not interfere with the investigation there. I fear I have pushed the Nine as far as they will go in this matter," said Brelaina. "As for the Docks, I suspect they will always give us trouble, but with your help we have made great strides in restoring order to the area. And trade should improve as a result. Lord Nasher will be pleased, and I shall make sure to mention your name to him. Thank you for your efforts lieutenant, and fortune be with you on your travels in the Blacklake District. I will keep your name on the list of inactive and retired Watch members. When you are finished with your own affairs, and if you wish to return to the service of Neverwinter, then I will reinstate you as a lieutenant, no questions asked." She stood and offered her hand to Kail.

"Thank you, Captain. It's been... an experience," she grinned, shaking the woman's hand.


	30. Aldanon

_30. Aldanon_

"There's the gate to the Blacklake District!" said Neeshka. "Race you to it, Stumpy." She set off at a sprint.

"Bah, ye cheating Tiefling!" said Khelgar, starting after her.

"Wait for me, I like to run!" said Grobnar.

"Are you alright?" Elanee asked Kail. "You seem a little quiet."

"I guess I'm just a bit nervous," she admitted. "After all we've been through... what if Aldanon tells me something about the shards that I don't want to hear?"

"The way I see it, any information, even information to our disadvantage, is better than stumbling around in the dark. Armed with information we stand a better chance of understanding _why_ everything that has happened, has happened. Why your village was attacked, why my Circle has disappeared, and why there is a shadow touching the land."

"You always were the voice of reason," said Kail. "Tell me... you seem to spend a lot of time talking with Casavir... what do you think he is hiding?" She knew that he was some way behind her, but she lowered her voice anyway.

"Hiding?" asked Elanee, quirking an eyebrow.

"When I mentioned the Nine arriving at that githyanki-infested house, he practically ran from it. Then when we were in Brelaina's office, he was trying _really_ hard to make himself unnoticed to those Greycloaks. Those are the actions of a man with something to hide."

"We are all entitled to our secrets," said Elanee. "As long as they will not bring harm to our companions. And I do not believe that Casavir would keep secrets if he thought they would cause harm to you. To us. But perhaps you should be speaking to him about it," she suggested. Kail nodded thoughtfully.

"Halt," said the guard on the gate. "This District is closed to the public."

"We have Captain Brelaina's permission to enter," she replied,

"Then you must be Kail?" He waited for her to nod. "Then follow me. I have been instructed to take you to Aldanon's house." He turned to unlock the gate, and when they had all passed he locked it again after them. Kail let everybody pass by, then she fell in line with Casavir.

"Can I ask you some questions?" she said.

"Of course, my lady," he said amicably.

"I wanted to talk to you more about why you went to Old Owl Well."

"I went there because I felt my sword could make a difference. No other reason," he said promptly.

"But it seems like you could have marshaled the Neverwinter forces, gotten Callum to ally with you, and been more effective. Instead, you avoided him," she said.

"There was a need for action, the need to set an example. To move Neverwinter to act is something beyond my strength," he said. It did not avoid her notice that he had given an evasive answer, so as not to address her question. "But a greater good has been accomplished," he continued, "and you have shown that to me."

"But you went alone."

"I went alone, because I had to," he replied. "Battling the tribes of the Old Owl Well was something that must be done. It was simple, necessary act. There was no doubt as to what needed to be done, no... conflicts."

"Conflicts?" she asked.

"There are battles that can be fought, and others that cannot," he said quietly. "It is a difficult thing to speak of. I appreciate your words, and your intention, but this is something that is difficult to share."

"One does not always have to deal with such conflicts alone," she told him. _Where would I be now, without Khelgar, without Neeshka, and Elanee... and even Casavir? I'd probably be dead in the Mere._

"You are correct. Your presence has steadied me in these difficult times. You have even helped achieve resolution where before there were only doubts. And for that, I thank you."

"Well... I'm glad I could help, then," she said, surprised at his words. How on earth had she helped him 'achieve resolution', whatever that meant? "What is your concern with Neverwinter?" she asked.

"I did not inform them of my decision to leave, so I did not part in good graces," he explained. "I suspect that many of them do not even know why I left."

"And why _did_ you leave?" she prompted. He gave a deep sigh.

"I... betrayed my oath to my order. To Neverwinter. I had... doubts about my service to Nasher, to the city itself," he said.

"It must be hard, to begin to doubt everything that you are," she said thoughtfully.

"Yes, it is something that I am still trying to resolve."

"But why did you leave?" she asked.

"It was an impulsive decision, and not the correct one. There was no place in Neverwinter for me any longer. And the farther that I travelled from Neverwinter's walls, the more I saw what harm was befalling people -- such as those at Old Owl Well."

"What do you mean?"

"The policies of Neverwinter and the health of the city do depend on politics, on trade relations... but if that is the sole focus, then the people in need of aid are sometimes lost in its shadow. I needed to travel to Old Owl Well to try and take direct action, to make a discernible difference in the lives of those who needed it... and I feel there we have have succeeded. So for that, I thank you."

"It was a good chance to help others," she shrugged.

"Perhaps if there were more people like you in Neverwinter's service, it might draw others," he suggested.

"I think that my service to Neverwinter has just ended," she said. "Not that I didn't enjoy cleaning up the city's mess in the Docks, but following orders isn't really my thing."

"We're here," said their escort. "Aldanon's house. Just don't expect too warm a welcome, though. The old guy's eccentric at best. I'll wait here while you talk to him." He stepped back, and Kail climbed the steps to knock on his door. She heard some banging from the other side of the door, and then a voice, not as frail as she would have thought, spoke out.

"I'm sorry, are you here with the delivery?" it said.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked.

"Quicksilver, for my shard experiment. Have you brought me some?"

"No," she said, "But I have some shards as well. Maybe they'll help with your experiment."

"Really?" the voice asked, perking up instantly. "Well now, that's certainly interesting news. I'll need to modify my experiment of course... one moment while I remove the wards around this house... right, all disarmed, I think. Come on in!"

The door swung open and Kail led her friends into the house. The house itself was huge, and held a myriad of paintings and sculptures, interspersed with what she could only guess were some sort of experiments in various stages. Grobnar immediately wandered over to one and started poking it.

"Oh, I wouldn't touch that if I were you," said an old man, presumably Aldanon. "It tends to bite." Grobnar snatched his fingers back. Kail studied the old man for a moment; dressed in a white robe, his equally white hair was dishevelled, as if he hadn't brushed it in a long time. His clothes beneath his robe were stained, but she suspected they weren't food stains.

"Are you Aldanon?" she asked, to be sure.

"Yes, yes, well met, well met," he said, shaking her hand. "So you've found another of these mysterious shards, have you? Fascinating, absolutely fascinating. I must confess, normally I'm rather, well, reclusive. Not that I dislike people, mind you -- quite the contrary. But lately with all the troubles... a murderer on the loose and young nobles sneaking around, up to who knows what... I've had to place wards around my home."

"Nobles sneaking around?" she asked, already lost in the conversation.

"Ah yes, lately I've seen fgures sneaking around in the dark, and not that well-meaning sort of sneaking either. It's obvious what they want."

"What _do_ they want?"

"Why, my house, of course! As if I would ever sell it... ridiculous. I'd sooner give up my left eye. But my right annoys me at times, so that would be an easier sell."

"Uh... I see. Do go on," she prompted him.

"In any event, back when I first settled in Neverwinter, my humble abode was on the outskirts of Blacklake, bordering acres of untouched wilderness. Now, with Neverwinter being rebuilt following all that plague nonsense, my property went from the periphery to being right on the main thoroughfare of the 'rich' part of Neverwinter. All the nobility wants to live in Blacklake, but there's no more room. So lately they've been trying various ways to convince me to sell my land."

"How do they try to get you to leave?"

"First they tried offering me _ridiculous_ sums of gold. What do I need with more gold?" Neeshka gave a quiet choke in the background.

"I wish more people would give that question a little thought," she said.

"Next they tried making loud noises late at night. But I need little sleep, so the only thing they accomplished was scaring away the nightbirds that raid my garden, for which I thanked them. Lately they must be getting desperate, because most nights I can look out and see them watching me."

"Are you sure these figures you see are nobles?" Kail asked. It all sounded a little suspicious.

"Of course. Who else would sneak around my home? Well, present company excluded. Oh... that's right, you came here for a reason, yes?"

"Yes," she said, taking the shards out of her pack. "These shards were found in West Harbor, in the aftermath of the battle with the King of Shadows. Lately they seem to be growing in power, and we are being hunted by githyanki, duergar and bladelings... we think they want these shards, but we don't know why, or even what they are."

"Great Tyr! What a tale!" exclaimed Aldanon. "The moment you arrived I knew I'd be interested in meeting you. Wish I'd known that when I first greeted you, would have saved some time! But you've certainly come to the right place. A while ago I found another shard, with properties similar to the ones you possess. I've done every possible test on the shard, but learnt little. However, I've never had another shared to compare it against. If you'd like some answers I'll gladly run some tests on your shards. I have just enough quicksilver left to do it."

"Sure," she said, handing him the shards.

"Ah, thank you. I'll be right back with this. Why don't you and your friends take a seat, and I'll have the maid bring you some tea." Kail thanked him, and she took a seat by the fire as the old man hurried out of the room. _And hopefully, with the right luck, I'll be rid of those shards forever._

o - o - o - o - o

"How long do you think this is going to take?" sighed Neeshka. "It hurts me to be here."

"Hurts you in what way?" asked Elanee.

"Well, here I am in one of the richest homes in Neverwinter, and I can't steal a single thing. I tell you, it physically hurts."

"To be honest, I don't think Aldanon would notice if anything went missing," said Kail.

"Maybe not, but his maid would. That woman has been giving me the evil eye all evening," said Neeshka, glaring at the maid who stood on the other side of the room, ready to serve her master's guests.

"Well at least somebody is having a good time," said Casavir. He was looking at Grobnar, who was "ooh"ing and "aah"ing over every experiment that Aldanon had left within sight. "At least he is not touching them anymore. I dread to think what half of those things are capable of doing."

"My tests are complete!" Aldanon exclaimed as he walked into the room. Almost everybody jumped in fright. "With another shard to use as a comparison... well, I learned quite a bit. Quite a lot, actually. It appears these shards contain latent magical energy, either caused by a strong enchantment from when they were whole, or from their method of destruction. Furthermore, the shards resonate when they are brought together, increasing their magical energy output accordingly. These shards are pieces of a broken githyanki silver sword. Are you familiar with the githyanki?"

"A little. Religious fanatics who reside on the Astral plane. Rarely leave their homes," she replied. It was the little that Lucas had told her.

"Yes, that's the short version," said Aldanon. "Ages ago, the ancestors of the githyanki were human, and inhabited another plane where they were enslaved by the illithids. Then came Gith. Little is known about her outside the githyanki, but she led the rebellion to free her people of the illithids, and is considered the hero and founder of the githyanki people. The githyanki silver swords are forged with the special purpose of severing the silver cord that connectes the form of an astrally projecting traveller to his or her material counterpart. They look like a regular githyanki weapon, until used in combat, at which point they turn into a column of flowing, shimmering liquid. Really quite amazing, I'm told. I believe the shards you found are pieces of one of these silver swords. I presume the githyanki have come to Faerûn to recover the shards."

"Why would the githyanki care about pieces of a broken sword?" she asked him.

"I've never heard of one being broken before," he replied. "It could be that the githyanki are as interested in how it was broken as they are in reclaiming the pieces."

"But we've fought the githyanki, and none of their weapons had the properties you describe."

"Common githyanki would not possess a silver sword. These swords are rare and highly prized. They are given by the Lich Queen to only the greatest of githyanki knights. When one of their silver swords falls into the hands of a non-githyanki, they will go to extraordinary lengths to recover it."

"Is there anything more you can tell me about the shards themselves? How they were broken, maybe?" she asked.

"I wish I knew more. Ammo Jerro was the real expert. He actually possessed a silver sword," said Aldanon.

"Who is Ammon Jerro?" Elanee asked from behind Kail.

"Ammon Jerro? Oh, he was a court wizard of Neverwinter, decades ago. I met him a few times. He was a nice fellow... a little absent-minded, with a tendency to drift off the subject...Ammon Jerro reminded me of my old mentor, Master Grahler. Had the largest collection of noisy, exotic birds, made _quite_ a racket you know, chirping and squawking..."

"But how did Ammon Jerro get a silver sword? And wouldn't the githyanki come after him to get it back?" asked Kail. If they were this intent on getting mere _shards_ of a sword from her, how could this Ammon Jerro manage to survive the attempt to take back a whole sword?

"I have no idea," said Aldanon. "He was a gentle sort though, so I doubt that he stole or killed for the sword. I suppose that the githyanki must have tried to find it, but if they went after Ammon Jerro they never found him. He passed away as quietly as he lived."

"So if he passed away, there's no chance of me asking him about his sword?" she mused.

"I'm afraid not. When word of Ammon's death reached me, it was from a messenger, who heard it in passing. The nobles who ruled Neverwinter at the time must have assumed I would simply know if another scholar passed away, for they had not mentioned it to me -- it was almost an afterthought. I learned later that it was partly due to what Ammon's family wanted... and what had been requested by the deceased, to enter life quietly and to leave it the same way. It is sad in this age when the passing of a humble scholar and indistinct court wizard barely warrants a footnote in history. It makes me wonder... will anyone remember me when I'm gone?"

"Aldanon, you can rest assured that everybody who has ever _met_ you will remember you when you're gone," said Kail wryly.

"That's kind of you to say, but unlike Ammon Jerro, I will not be survived by any family."

"Would his family have access to more of his research, or information about the silver sword he owned?" she asked.

"I suppose they would, but the Jerro family was said to have moved away from Neverwinter after the war -- and Ammon's passing. I have no idea where they might be now," he replied.

"Oh well, at least we tried," said Kail, standing up. "Would you like to keep my shards, Aldanon? For your experiments?"

"Wait a minute," said Casavir. "If Ammon Jerro's family once lived in Neverwinter, then we should be able to find out where they live now in the Neverwinter Archives."

"And there's also Jerro's Haven. I suppose you could try looking there," said Aldanon.

"A Haven? Where is it?" she asked.

"It was a private retreat of some sort, where he went for solitude. I know it exists, but I don't know where. But that information should also be in the Archives, here the the Blacklake District. Hmm... they don't allow just anyone to access the records. I petitioned to be allowed to peruse the secured archives, but I was denied because... because, well, some silly misunderstanding regarding misplaced books that somehow ended up in my possession."

"Then it's a dead end. If I can't find the information, I can't find Jerro's haven, so there's really nothing more I can do," she said firmly.

"Well... there is one way..." said Aldanon thoughtfully. "Ask the guards at the archives to speak directly with Archives Administrator Cotenick. He has been known to let me in... quietly, on occasion."

"Of course he has," she sighed. "Well, thank you for your help Aldanon."

"No problem at all. Thank you for your visit, and for letting me chat with you. Quite enlightening really. Oh, and before I forget, you may take my shard. I've no use for it any longer, and who knows, you may gather more! Do be careful, though. I plan to raise my wards again after you leave to keep out those skulking young nobles. Hope we haven't talked too long, otherwise they may have gathered their courage and attempted to sneak in."

Aldanon escorted them to the door, pressing all three shards into Kail's hand. She groaned inwardly. This was _not_ what she wanted. She wanted to get rid of the shards she already had, not get more of them!

"You took your time," said their escort. Behind the door she sensed the magical wards being raised again.

"Sorry," she said. "But now we need to go to the Archives."

"Well... my orders are to take you straight to Aldanon and back out again," he said.

"Just a short side trip, I promise," she said. "And I won't say a word to Captain Brelaina."

"I suppose it would be alright. Just a short trip, though!" he warned.

"Thanks," she smiled, and let him lead the way.

o - o - o - o - o

"It seems quiet. A little _too_ quiet," said Neeshka as she followed Kail up the steps to the Archives.

"Well it is pretty late. I doubt there's many people around at this time. All the sensible folk are in bed," sighed Kail.

"We'll be back at the Flagon in no time, you'll see," Neeshka said.

"Who's there? Answer me!" came a voice from around a corner.

"My name's Kail. I'm with the city Watch," she said. "Aldanon sent me."

"Oh, thank the Gods! I thought you were one of _them_!" A man appeared from around the corner, and in his hands he held a broomstick, as if wanting to hit something with it. He wore a veil on his head that covered one of his eyes, and his other eye showed pure terror.

"I'm here to find some information," she said. "Wait, you thought we were one of _who?_"

"The Archive is under attack by some... some... creatures!"

"If I stop these creatures, will you allow me to search for information on a court wizard named Ammon Jerro?" she asked.

"If you will swear to protect Neverwinter and keep its secrets safe, I will allow you to look for the information," he said.

"I promise."

"Very well. These marauders most likely seek entrance to the vault as well. This is what you must do; you must find four pedestals in the archive. Upon each is parchment and a pen, which can only been seen by one wearing a veil, like the one I wear now. Each of the pens will scribe a question on the parchment regarding a book. You must answer all four questions correctly for the vault to open."

"Sounds like the test the Academy instructors used to give us," said Qara. "And just as fun."

"Magical pens? I wonder if I might borrow one, just for a while," said Grobnar.

"Alright," said Kail. "Where can I get a veil from?"

"Some of my bretheren fell to the marauders inside the Archives. You may take a veil from one of the bodies. Now I must go, and warn the Nine of this intrusion. Good luck to you."

"So, do you want to place a bet on who these marauders are?" asked Neeshka once the caretaker had left.

"Orcs," said Khelgar. "There's always orcs."

"Duergar," said Kail.

"Luskans," said Qara.

"I do not gamble," said Casavir.

"I will put my money on the githyanki," said Elanee.

o - o - o - o - o

As it turned out, Elanee was correct. They had to fight their way through githyanki and their bladeling allies, and to make it worse both Elanee and Qara were still out of spells. It fell to Casavir to heal the group, while Qara and Elanee made use of any magical scroll they came across.

"That's the last of them, lass," said Khelgar, as he and Grobnar got back from scouting the rest of the building.

"Ooh, is this one of those magic invisible pens that the caretaker was talking about?" asked Grobnar, standing on his tiptoes to examine a piece of parchment on a pedestal in the middle of a chamber. Kail wrapped a veil that she had taken from a dead man around her head, and immediately a pen jumped into her view.

"It seems so. Let's see... this question asks about the 'Death of a Sailorman' books. It says 'how many variations are there of Trenor B. Darven's death?' That's easy, the answer is 'hundreds'."

"Oh, indeed, you're quite correct!" said Grobnar, "Makes my head spin, all those deaths." Kail put the pen down and they moved onto the next room, and the next pedestal.

"Okay, this one asks about a book called 'The Luskan Threat to Neverwinter'. It says 'What is Luskan's most immediate short-term goal?' Which, if I was a Luskan, would be to assassinate Lord Nasher," she said, writing the answer on the parchment.

"Unfortunately, that is most likely true," said Casavir. Again they moved onto the next room.

"It's referencing the book 'To Counter the Assumption of a Flat Faerûn'. It asks 'What is revealed at the end of the book?' If I remember my books correctly, then nothing is revealed," she said.

"That's true of all books," said Qara dismissively.

"Last one," said Kail, leading her friends into the fourth and final room. "This parchment references 'The Illefarn Cypher'. It says '93271'. Easy enough cypher, that should be 'Me Lead One Shadow Life'."

"Well done!" said Grobnar. "And faster than I could have done, by several heartbeats!"

"Now that all of the challenges have been met, the door to the central Archives should now be open," said Casavir. "I think we should make our way there with all haste, lest more githyanki show up.

"Not afraid of a little githyanki fighting now, are ye paladin?" teased Khelgar.

"Not at all. I merely wish to be gone from this place. I find the Blacklake District to be a little restrictive these days."

"Then by all means," said Kail, "lead the way."

As they neared the central archives, however, it soon became obvious that there was already somebody inside. They heard several voices speaking in a harsh, gutteral language, and the sound of books being pulled from shelves and dumped on the floor was constant.

"It appears we are too late," whispered Casavir, peering around the door. "The githyanki are already here, and tearing through every book to find what they seek, by the look of it."

"We have the location of Haven," said one of the githyanki. Kail stood beside Casavir so she could hear the conversation.

"Interesting," said another. "There is another Jerro. Zeeaire will want her. I shall take care of the descendant. Wipe out all mention of the thief, then rejoin the others." The githyanki left by a side door, and the others began setting fire to the books piled in front of them.

"We have to stop them," said Kail.

"Now yer talking my language!" said Khelgar, and he rushed into the room. She sighed and followed him, with Casavir and the others piling in behind her.

"The Kalach-cha!" hissed one of the githyanki. "Kill her!"

"Not _again_," groaned Kail. "I'm really getting tired of this."

"Me too lass," said Khelgar, swinging his mace which connected with the head of one of the githyanki.

"Tell me about it," said Neeshka. She loosed several arrows with rapid precision at another of the gith, and it went down to the floor in a pool of blood.

"At least we are doing the realms a favour by getting rid of these killers," said Casavir as he swung his hammer at the last githyanki, and parried blows with his shield. Suddenly a crossbow bolt took the githyanki through the throat, and it slumped to the floor atop one of its companions.

"Sorry, didn't mean to do that!" said Grobnar, fiddling with his crossbow.

"I've managed to put the fire out," said Neeshka, patting at the books with a spare pair of socks she had taken from her pack, "but there's a lot of damage. Here, see if you can make anything out." She handed the book to Kail, who turned the pages carefully.

"It says here that Ammon Jerro has one living relative; Shandra Jerro, who has a farm near Highcliff."

"Shandra?" said Neeshka. "The girl with the flammable barn?"

"We need to get to her at once!" said Elanee. "The githyanki are probably heading there as we speak."

"Then let's hurry down to the docks," said Kail, placing the book back on a stand.

"But lass, the docks is in the opposite direction!" said Khelgar.

"I know, but we need to get to Highcliff, and faster than we can walk. I think it's time to ask a favour of an old friend."


	31. Flammable Farms

_31. Flammable Farms_

Kail looked up from her book at a knock from the cabin door. In the other bunk Neeshka sat up, and slipped her hand under her pillow where she kept a dagger.

"Come in," said Kail. The door opened to admit a familiar face.

"I've just come to tell you that we'll be in sight of Highcliff within the hour. Docked within two. And your friend Khelgar is still violently ill."

"Thank you, Jadar," she smiled. "I'll get Khelgar out of his bed now and up onto deck. It will do him good to see land, I think. How are Elanee and Qara?"

"They are fine, Sha. I must admit, using their spells to speed the ship along its way was a very clever idea. Between alternating those two, and you and your Gnomish friend, we have made the trip from Neverwinter to Highcliff in less than half the time it usually takes. I would not be surprised if the Captain decides to hire a wizard or two the next time we are in Neverwinter or Waterdeep."

"Well, time was of the essence," she said. "It seemed like the fastest way to get here. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd better see about settling Khelgar's stomach."

"Very well. By the way, I do not like your knight friend, Sha. He looks down on us. And his armour is too heavy. If he was to accidentally fall overboard, the weight of his armour would carry him right down to the very bottom of the sea, where he would drown," Jadar said mischievously.

"Damn, why didn't I think of that?" said Neeshka.

"You two are terrible," said Kail in mock severity. "Now come on, Neeshka. Help me get Khelgar out into fresh air."

o - o - o - o - o

Casavir stood at one side of the ship, looking down into the water. He would be the first to admit that he knew little about the ways of the sea, so he had no idea whether he was stood at the starboard or port side of the ship. He did know that the creatures following in the waves, like a regal escort, were dolphins, though. He counted this as a favourable sign that their mission would go well.

He had discovered that Kail, along with Khelgar, Elanee and Neeshka, knew this woman they were going to save, this Shandra Jerro, from their travels to Neverwinter. He just hoped that they would be in time.

His attention was taken by several of his companions coming onto the floor of the boat. The deck, he thought he'd heard it called. Qara and Elanee were already on the deck, using their spells to create gusts of wind, which ferried the ship along at an unimaginable speed. It was amazing that the dolphins could keep up. Grobnar was there, too, learning some sea songs from a couple of the sailors. Now the rest of his group appeared, Kail and Neeshka supporting Khelgar.

It was a shame that he had been forced to share a tiny room with both Khelgar and Grobnar. The Dwarf seemed to have the worst sort of sea-sickness, and never stopped groaning. Grobnar, when he was not on duty at the sails, often took to singing Dwarven songs, to try to cheer Khelgar up. He was sure that, if anything, Grobnar's singing was making Khelgar worse. And so he spent as much time as possible up on the... deck.

The sailors did not seem to like him much. They gave him suspicious glances, and avoided him like he had the plague. As far as he was concerned, that was just fine. He was not particularly in the mood for company, and gave himself over to enjoying the fresh air and the pleasing rocking motion of the boat. It really was quite soothing. Why Khelgar did not enjoy it was beyond his understanding.

"It is time once again for my most ancient naval custom, Sha," said a half-elven sailor. He had caught the man looking at Kail in a most _improper_ fashion, and told him so directly.

_"Ah, but the Gods gave us eyes so that we may look, and Sha'Gyrah, she does not mind me looking. She does not mind at all,"_ was what the man had said. And so Casavir chose to mind his own business. But now, at the mention of this custom, Kail stood on her toes and kissed the sailor. When he turned to Neeshka, she did the same. Casavir shook his head. Why a sensible woman like Kail would put up with such a transparent scoundrel was beyond him. It was obvious that Neeshka had few, if any, morals, but he had higher expectations of Kail.

"And you, friend Dwarf, you make sure you get some ale in you as soon as you get on land," said the sailor.

"Ugh, don't talk to me about ale yet," said Khelgar.

"Look, Khelgar," said Kail, pointing to the distance. "You can see Highcliff already."

"I don't want to see it, I want to be in it! Tell me that we're not going back to Neverwinter this way."

"Unfortunately, the Captain cannot wait while you and your friends finish their business. You will have to make your way back to Neverwinter under your own steam," the sailor said.

"That suits me just fine, laddie. Just fine," said Khelgar.

Casavir turned his attention back to the sea. He was saddened to see that the dolphins were no longer with the ship. Still, the journey hadn't been a total loss. They had gotten to Highcliff much faster than they would have by walking, and with any luck, they would be in time to save Shandra Jerro from a grisly fate at the hands of the githyanki.

o - o - o - o - o

Kail stepped out of the woods into the fields at Shandra's Farm. The village Elder had informed them that Shandra had stayed on at the farm, even after the burning of her barn, to try and rebuild. It was admirable; something that a Harborman would do.

"There she is! Capture her! Zeeaire wants her alive!" came a githyanki voice from near the farmhouse. At first she thought they were referring to her, but a moment later she saw Shandra running past. The woman ducked into the house and slammed the door, but the githyanki quickly kicked it down and piled in after her. Suddenly, one of the githyanki soldiers caught sight of Kail and her friends, and he turned towards them.

"Things have turned out well for us, my brothers -- the girl and the Kalach-Cha, both without our reach," he said. "Take one team and capture the girl alive. The rest of us will deal with this one."

Kail found herself once again fighting for her life against the githyanki. Once she had exhausted her supply of knives she drew her daggers and began fighting hand to hand with one of the githyanki. Around her her friends were dealing with their own attackers. Casavir was in the thick of it, surrounded by three githyanki. But Khelgar picked up the body of another and hurled it at the trio. Casavir jumped out of the way as the three went down, and began making sure the githyanki stayed down permanently.

"Go and get Shandra," said Neeshka. "I'll wait out here in case any more show up."

"Alright," said Kail. "Be careful."

"You too." She quickly lead the others towards the house, and they stepped into the carnage.

o - o - o - o - o

They found Shandra hiding in her kitchen. The woman narrowed her eyes as they approached, then pointed her finger at Kail.

"_You_ again? Don't come any closer!" she said.

"We're here to help you, Shandra," replied Kail, stepping cautiously forward.

"I think I've had just about enough of your help for one lifetime," said Shandra.

"There's more of them on the way, lass!" said Khelgar.

"Look, just stay here," Kail said to Shandra. "We'll deal with them. Don't move from this spot!"

She turned to join her companions in Shandra's dining room, where several githyanki had forced their way in through the back door. Fighting in such close quarters was difficult, and twice she had to dodge Casavir's hammer as he swung it at the enemy. Once a bolt zipped past her leg, narrowly missing her trousers, and Grobnar gave her a guilty look.

"I think that's all of them," said Khelgar, swinging his mace to deliver a killing blow to the last githyanki.

"I'm really getting fed up of this," she said, kicking one of the corpses for good measure.

"Let us check on Shandra," said Casavir, stepping past her.

"Stop right there!" said Shandra, still hiding in the kitchen. "What do you want with me?"

"I'm _trying_ to rescue you," replied Kail. "But you're not making it very easy, you know."

"I don't even know-" began Shandra, but was cut off when smoke started pouring into the room. "That's... that's my house! First my barn, now my house?" She coughed as the smoke curled up to the ceiling. "Come on, we have to get out of here." Stepping out of the kitchen, she led the way to the back door.

"This brings back memories," said Khelgar as he followed Shandra. There was a mad scramble for the door as Shandra's house swiftly caught fire; made of timber and straw, it just didn't stand a chance.

When Kail stepped outside she had just enough time to see Neeshka lying unconscious on the ground before the group of githyanki came rushing towards them. She rolled, and grabbed her daggers from her belt, stabbing upwards as she came to her feet. The githyanki, his sword raised for a strike, collapsed as her dagger slid between his ribs and pierced his heart.

Turning, she kicked out with one foot, knocking off balance another githyanki who was trying to skewer Grobnar. It fell to the ground and Khelgar smashed its head with his mace.

"Somebody see to Neeshka!" she called as she ducked from another githyanki sword. From the corner of her eyes she saw Grobnar run towards the thief, and upend a bottle of liquid in her mouth. Neeshka coughed and spluttered, then slowly got to her feet, touching her head with a wince.

Satisfied that her friend was okay, Kail concentrated her efforts on the githyanki. She had just lined herself up for a killing strike when a ray of ice shot out from behind her and froze her opponent solid.

"No need to thank me," said Qara, putting the wand back in her pocket and brushing off her hands.

When the last githyanki had fallen, Kail examined her companions. Apart from Neeshka, only Casavir had a few scratches, but they were nothing that would hinder him. Everybody else was unharmed, and Khelgar was proudly cleaning githyanki blood off his gauntlets.

"So my barn and home are both burned to the ground," said Shandra, turning to Kail. "Any more of your 'help' and all of Highcliff will be the next to go. Anyway, I think it's best that we part ways now. You go your way, and I'll go mine."

"But we just _rescued_ you," she replied.

"Look, I barely know you," said Shandra, "but what I do know is whenever you show up, trouble's not far behind. So I think it's best that we say our farewells now." And with that she ran off into the forest.

"Can you believe that?" asked Kail. "After everything we've done for her."

"I think she believes _you_ to be the cause of her problems," mused Casavir.

"I can't imagine why," she scoffed.

"Help!" Shandra shouted, running from the forest back to the group. Behind her were a handful of githyanki, chasing her with their swords held high. Kail sighed, and began throwing knives at her pursuers. Neeshka began firing arrows, and Grobnar bolts. The last two githyanki fell to Casavir and Khelgar to dispatch, and, when they were through, Shandra sank to the ground in defeat.

"Are you okay?" Kail asked her.

"Yes. Thank you. Maybe I should have stuck with you after all," the woman admitted.

"Do you think you can trust me now?"

"Honestly, I don't know. But I'm done running from you... for now. Look, we really need to get out of here before more of these creatures show up. Do you know of anywhere safe that we can talk?"

"Yes, I know just the place," she replied. "Have you ever been to Neverwinter?"

"_Neverwinter?_ The only safe place you can think of is in _Neverwinter?_"

"She's going to be staying at the Sunken Flagon with us?" asked Elanee.

"Why not," said Shandra with a sigh of defeat. "My barn's gone, my house is gone... are we leaving right away?"

"Yes, I think that's best," said Kail.

"Alright, well lead on. I'll trust your judgement on this one."

"Kail, I need to speak with you for a moment," said Elanee. She nodded, and allowed the Elf to lead her away from the group.

"I am not returning to Neverwinter with you," Elanee said.

"What?! Why not?" Elanee hadn't given any indication that she was unhappy with the way things were going, or that she wanted to leave.

"There is something that I must do," Elanee replied.

"Can you at least tell me what it is?" she asked. The other woman considered her for a moment.

"I wish to return to Skymirror. To try again to contact members of my Circle."

"But Elanee, it didn't work!"

"And yet I must try."

"Then we'll go with you. It's not too far out of our way," said said.

"No, it is your responsibility to see Shandra safely to the Sunken Flagon. Only there will she be safe," said Elanee.

"But the shadow priests have already tried to take you once. What if they come after you again? At least take Khelgar or Casavir with you," she suggested.

"No! To be honest, I need some time alone. After my talk with Elder Naevan, there are some... things that I must think through. I must clear my thoughts and find my inner balance once again. I will not be taken by the shadow priests. I promise you that I will be careful, and that when I am ready, I will return to Neverwinter to continue aiding you in your quest."

"Well... alright. If you're _sure_ I can't talk you out of it..." she relented. Elanee smiled.

"I am sure. I will go now. I do not wish a long goodbye with the others. You shall me me again soon enough." Elanee turned and entered the forest as Kail waved goodbye.

"What was that all about?" asked Neeshka, flicking her tail as she approached.

"Elanee has gone back to the Skymirror. She'll meet us back in Neverwinter later," she explained to her friend.

"Fine by me," shrugged Neeshka.

"How are you doing? It looks like you're in pain."

"It's nothing," said Neeshka. "Just a bit of a headache. I don't know what Grobnar gave me, but it seems to have worked."

"Well, I'm glad you're okay." Neeshka flashed her a smile.

"Me too. I'm a bit too fond of living to give it up just yet. But if you're finished here, what say we head back to Neverwinter? I don't mind farms, but there's nothing worth stealing here."

o - o - o - o - o

The trip back, though it lasted only a few days, seemed longer to Kail. Shandra seemed to be in some sort of denial, and outright refused to talk about anything that had happened until they reached safety in Neverwinter. Not even Casavir could coax her into talking about the githyanki. The woman spent most of her time listening to Grobnar's chatter or staring into space with a distant look on her face.

She supposed it was understandable. Shandra had lost her farm and last year's crop of food. To a farmer, that was your life. Sometimes it was possible to rebuild, but not if you were being constantly chased and harassed for no obvious reason.

When at last Neverwinter came into view, she began to relax a little. This was home, of a sort, and in the Flagon lay safety.

"I think you'll enjoy staying in Neverwinter. There really is ever so much to do," Grobnar was saying to Shandra.

"Well I suppose now that my farm's been destroyed, one place is as good as another to stay in," said Shandra. She was silent as they passed the gates, and looked more than a little out of place in her plain farmer's clothes.

Had she herself looked that out of place when she first arrived to Neverwinter? Since Neeshka had taken it upon herself to start buying clothes for her, she had been dressing a little more... flamboyantly. Today she was wearing comfortable brown trousers, a blue shirt the hue of a bright azure sky, a green travelling cloak with a gold trim, and comfortable brown boots. It was a good combination of form and function, and she decided she would have to go about getting Shandra some new clothes too, since all of hers were burnt.

The Sunken Flagon was a familiar and welcome sight. Khelgar immediately hurried to the door, no doubt on his way to order a round for the weary travellers. Shandra had done well to keep up with their fast place, but she did look a little tired.

"This is your new home," she told Shandra. "For a short time, at least. Welcome to the Sunken Flagon."

"I can't wait to sleep in a bed again," the other woman replied. Kail opened the door, and allowed Shandra to step inside.

"Well now, I see you've brought someone new to my establishment. Now who is this young lady?" said Duncan. He wiped his hands on a towel, which he dumped on the bar, then gave his niece a brief hug.

"This is Shandra Jerro," she replied. "Shandra, Duncan. Duncan, Shandra."

"Please lass," said Duncan, "come in, come in. Make yourself at home. This here is the Sunken Flagon. I own it -- you'll be safe here. Grobnar! Play a tune or something. Make the lady feel welcome." Qara groaned and stuck her fingers in her ears.

"Why, of course! I was just thinking-"

"Look, we don't need a lecture on what passes through your head and out of your mouth. Just _play_."

"Well the innkeeper certainly runs hot and cold," Shandra said quietly to Kail.

"That's my Uncle. You can trust him," she reassured her.

"Alright," said Shandra, sitting at a table and accepting a tankard of ale from Khelgar with a nod of her head. "I agreed to let you bring me here, now I want some answers." Kail stared at her in disbelief for a moment. She had been _trying_ to speak to Shandra, to give answers and ask questions, all bloody week on the way down here! "What happened at my farm? Who were those creatures? Any why were they after _me_?"

"I'll try to make this as brief and informative as possible," she replied. She sat opposite Shandra with her own tankard and took a deep draught. _Ahh, ale. Is there any problem it can't solve?_ "A few weeks ago, my village was attacked by the same creatures who are hunting you. They are called githyanki, and I believe that they attacked us to find something that was hidden near my village... a broken piece of a githyanki silver sword. The swords are extremely valuable to the githyanki, and they will go to all lengths to get one back. A sage here in Neverwinter told us that Ammon Jerro, your relative, once possessed a silver sword. We are searching for his Haven, where we might find answers, and our search led us to you. Unfortunately, the same search led the githyanki to you as well."

"Shandra," said Casavir, "we realise this is difficult, but your life may be in danger. I swear to you, we are trying to protect you, not make more trouble for you."

"Oh. Alright, sorry. Guess the whole thing's hard to take all at once," said Shandra, blushing slightly.

"A little paladin _charm_ sure calmed her quick," snickered Neeshka.

" But... what could I know that's so important?" asked Shandra.

"It's not what _you_ know, but what Ammon Jerro knew," Kail explained.

"Ammon Jerro? He was my grandfather. Or my great-grandfather... or was it my great-great-grandfather? I heard he was an eccentric but humble wizard... but he died a long time ago. What does that have to do with me?"

"We're looking for the information stored in his Haven. I guess the githyanki are looking for the same thing," she said.

"My mother told me about the Haven when I was a child," said Shandra, smiling at the memory. "I thought it was just a tale she used to make me do my chores on time. She always threatened to lock me in there if I wasn't a good girl."

"What else did she tell you about the Haven?"

"My mother said his Haven was like a hundred twisting corridors jumbled together into an inescapable labyrinth, filled with the deadliest traps and evil beasts conjured from the Abyss. Or... something like that. I _think_ she was exaggerating."

"My, it certainly doesn't sound like a place we want to spend our vacation in, does it?" said Grobnar.

"Do you know where the Haven is?" she asked Shandra.

"I have no idea where it is. Knowing its location wouldn't help you much anyway. My mother said something about a... path you have to walk to get to it. Like a series of challenges. But I don't remember what they are. She also said getting nto the Haven requires a pint of fresh blood. And not just any blood will do... it has to be Jerro blood." She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Is that why you 'rescued' me? So you could _bleed_ me?"

"That was not our intention, Shandra," said Casavir. "Please... hear us out."

"Well, if you think I'm going to some dark dungeon that used to give me nightmares... well, think again!" said Shandra.

"Do you know anything more about Ammon Jerro?" asked Kail.

"I have no memory of meeting him. My mother told me that he saw me a few times as a babe, but I was too young to remember. Mother said he would cradle me and sing to me, and I would pull out his beard hairs."

"Eh. Just keep your distance from me, lass," said Khelgar. He was already on his third ale.

"If Ammon Jerro was 'eccentric but humble', it's not likely his Haven is a place to fear," said Kail thoughtfully.

"Hmm... you know, I never thought of it that way. You may be right," said Shandra. "Look, I can barely think, let alone stand. I really need rest... can we talk about this tomorrow?"

"Perhaps we should retire," said Casavir. "We all could use the rest. Shandra, I believe Duncan has rooms upstairs."

"I do," said Duncan.

"Oh... uh, thanks for the hospitality... uh, Casavir, right? I appreciate it," said Shandra.

"Of course, you have been through a great deal. It is the last we can offer," he replied.

"That _I_ can offer, he means. My inn, you know, always eager to help a lass in distress we are, here at the Sunken Flagon," said Duncan. "Grobnar, show the lady to a clean room."

"Of course, I shall be happy to," said Grobnar, taking a key from Sal and leading Shandra by the hand. "Come this way, nothing to fear, the rooms are de-loused at least once a week." His chatter eventually died away as they pair climbed the stairs.

"Are you alright lass?" he asked her. "You're looking a little tired."

"I'm fine," she smiled at her Uncle. "Just need a good night's sleep."

"Well you just get yourself off to bed too," said Duncan. "I'll tell the kids to keep it down in the morning, so they don't wake you." She gave her Uncle a grateful smile, and squeezed his arm as she passed him. When she got to her room she hastily washed and changed, then climbed into bed piling the sheets around her. Yes, a good night's sleep was all that she needed.


	32. Kidnapped

_32. Kidnapped_

"Alarm! Alarm! Everyone get out of bed and grab a weapon! The Flagon's under attack!"

Her Uncle's call woke Kail from a deep sleep, and a for a moment she experienced a strong déjà-vu. Hadn't she already done this once? Only, it wasn't Duncan who had woken her... it was Bevil.

"It's the githyanki!" her Uncle shouted. Kail hurried out of bed and grabbed her weapons. She fastened her belt over her shift and ran out into the corridor. _Shandra._ They must have come for Shandra. There could be no other explanation.

Down the corridor she noticed her Uncle fighting with two githyanki. He had taken one of the short swords from the wall of the tavern and was fighting ferociously to protect his livelihood. Kail joined him, and they dispatched the intruders.

"Quick, the common room!" said her Uncle, and she followed him towards the sound of battle. Inside the common room, at least half of the furniture had been ruined. Tables were smashed, chairs were unfixable, and the walls were spattered with blood. She quickly joined in the fray.

Around her, her friends were fighting for their lives. Neeshka and Grobnar were stood back-to-back, shooting at anything that came near them. Khelgar was in the thick of it, throwing punches like a champion brawler. Qara was stood in a corner, hurling spells whenever she got a clear spot at a githyanki. Casavir was protecting Sal, who was likewise protecting the bottles on the shelves behind him. Bishop was shooting his bow, and Karnwyr was hamstringing his attackers. Fenton and Weasle, as it turned out, were fairly decent fighters. They had grabbed the nearest weapons -- fire pokers -- and were stabbing the githyanki with a vengeance.

By the time the fighting was over she was not injured, but she was exhausted. So much for a decent night of sleep. It couldn't be much past one in the morning. The githyanki certainly hadn't wasted any time.

"That lass, Shandra, has been taken," said Duncan. "How in the hells did those githyanki get into the city?"

"Does that matter?" asked Bishop, examining a tear he had received in his shirt. "You'd best hurry if you want to get her back. Look, this one has a sprig of Duskwood trapped in his boot." He threw a small twig to Kail, who caught it and looked at it closely. "That means they came from deep within Luskan territory... and that's where they'd be returning to."

"Luskan... that's your territory, Bishop," said Duncan thoughtfully.

"Yes, but it's not my problem. I'm not going into Luskan territory for some farm girl, and certainly not with any kin of yours, Duncan," he replied,

"How about in exchange for your worthless hide, ranger?" she asked, twirling her dagger in her hand.

"Is that supposed to be what passes for a threat from a Harborman?" he sneered. "Is your whole family deaf, Duncan? Like I said, _not my problem_."

"You'll help them Bishop, whether you like it or not," said Duncan.

"And what makes you think..." he started, then stopped dead. There was a gleam in her Uncle's eyes that she had never seen there before. It was frightening to see the look on his normally warm face. "Calling it due, are you, Duncan? Are you sure?"

"A woman's life is at stake, Bishop. If that's what it takes to move you to do the right thing, then so be it," her Uncle replied. Even Grobnar edged away from the tone in his voice.

"Fine, it will be worth it to be rid of you -- and for such a small price, too. You're a fool, Duncan."

"So be it," said her Uncle.

"Alright," said Bishop, turning to Kail, "this is how we're going to do it. This isn't a party, and we're not going out there to cook marshmallows over the camp fire and sing rousing songs. We're going in quietly. That means you and me, wildcat, and no more than two others. Follow my lead and don't try to be clever. If the Luskans catch us, they'll use us for target practice."

"Fine by me," she replied. "When will you be ready to go?"

"I'm ready now. You might want to put some clothes on though. I doubt the githyanki enjoy seeing your in your nightclothes as much as I do." She glared at him. "Now I'm going outside to pick up their trail. I'll be leaving in one hour whether you're ready or not." He left, and Karnwyr followed.

"I am coming with you, and I will not take no for an answer," said Casavir firmly.

"Me too," said Qara.

"Oh no you don't, sorceress," said Duncan. "This place is a mess, and you're going to help me clean it up. Now get started, the night's still young." Qara shot him a hate-filled glare and began picking up broken furniture and hurling it into a pile.

"Grobnar..." began Kail.

"Oh, I would be absolutely delighted to come!" said the bard.

"No Grobnar, I need you here. I have a special task for you."

"Oh. Well... is it an important task?" he asked, looking a little hurt.

"The most important one of all," she said solemnly.

"Really? What is it?"

"When we get back, Shandra's going to be feeling a little lost, and out of place. I want you to fix her room up here with flowers and things. And I want you to see about finding her some new clothes. She lost everything in that fire, she doesn't even have a spare change of clothes."

"Ahh, quite the conundrum!" said Grobnar. "But fear not, you can count on Grobnar Gnomehands to get the job done and make Shandra feel like she's lived here all her life! In fact, I had some plans for..." he wandered off towards the bedrooms.

"Will you help him?" she asked Neeshka, shooting her a pang of sympathy. "Make sure he doesn't overdo it."

"Sure," said her friend. "I wanna go with you, but I know there probably wouldn't be much to steal from the githyanki. And if you're going to be doing a lot of fighting, moss-breath here should go with you."

"Ha, that be a compliment to my fighting skills that you just gave me!" said Khelgar.

"In your dreams, stumpy. All I said was that your thick skull and bad breath would probably make the githyanki think twice about attacking."

"Let's get our packs and meet outside," she told Casavir and Khelgar. "Take care of my Uncle," she said to Neeshka.

"Don't worry," grinned the Tiefling. "I'll take care of things will you're gone. And who knows, maybe Khelgar will even have some ale to come back to."

o - o - o - o - o

"Something isn't right here," said Bishop. It was mid-morning, and they had arrived at a village called Ember after travelling through the whole night. Now she and Bishop were lying down on their bellies as they surveyed the seemingly empty village. Casavir and Khelgar, not inclined to stealth in their heavy armour, were waiting a few hundreds yards back in the forest.

"I agree," she said. "It's like the village has been abandoned. There's no villagers, and no livestock."

"Good eyes," said Bishop in surprise. "I noticed the villagers, but you're right about the livestock. We're on the trail of our friends, though. They've moving fast, but it looks like they've closed in a bit."

"How can you be so sure we're on their trail?" she asked.

"Their trail's hard to miss. They may know where they're going, but they aren't bothering to hide their tracks..." he said, peering at the village as if he could _see_ where everybody was, just by glaring at it. "It's almost as if they _want_ us to keep up. I don't like it. Keep your eyes open and your weapon handy. I smell an ambush."

She nodded, and went back for Khelgar and Casavir. When the three had returned, Bishop gestured them slowly forwards, and they stepped from the forest into the outskirts of Ember. As soon as they stepped into the shadows of the buildings, a wave of githyanki rushed out from the houses to attack them.

Kail immediately began throwing knives, barely even stopping to check that they made their targets before choosing another. Khelgar and Casavir rushed forward to meet the githyanki head on, while Bishop fired arrows into the githyanki ranks faster than even Neeshka was capable of.

From the corner of her eye she caught a blur of movement, and ducked too late. The githyanki's kick caught her across her shoulder blade, and she went spinning to the floor. For a moment everything went black, and when her vision came back she saw the githyanki leaning over her, sword in hand, ready to skewer her. Then a streak of tawny-grey impacted her assailaint, and the githyanki crumpled under the weight of Karnwyr, the wolf's jaws locked around his throat. Something touched the top of her chest, and a grinning face appeared in her vision.

"So, where did they put your heart, wildcat?"

She slapped Bishop's hand away and stood up, raising her own hand to her chest. She touched the scar that she had had since she was a baby. It ran from the top of her chest to just below the junction of her ribs, and she had no idea how she'd gotten it.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she said, and turned back towards the fight. Though the battle seemed to last forever, as all battles do, it was over in a matter of minutes. She felt guilty that most of the fighting had been done by Casavir and Khelgar, but that they had emerged victorious was more important.

"Nice little ambush they planned here. Decent effort, sloppy execution. It might have even worked if I hadn't been here," said Bishop as they grouped together by the village's well. Karnwyr let out a growl, and Bishop's head swivelled round to another wave of githyanki forces. "Ah, and I was wondering where their reinforcements were. Come on, we're not done here yet."

Having exhausted her supply of throwing knives, Kail fell back to using her daggers, slashing with one, stabbing with the other, until a small pile of githyanki corpses began forming around her. Using everything that Lucas had told her, she ducked and weaved and, somehow, managed to avoid every blow that was aimed at her. It was almost as if she _knew_ where to be, and when to be there. It was something she had never experienced before, and it frightened her. It almost felt as if she was separate from her body, telling it where to go as if she was looking down on the action and seeing everything. So caught up in the fighting was she, that she didn't even realise when the fight was over. She looked around for the next githyanki, but there were none. She had lost herself in battle, but in a way that she had never experienced before. Instead of become angry, and feeling her blood boil within her, telling her to kill, to destroy, she had become... detached. As if her mind and her body were a single tool, working in perfect unison.

"They left a large force in this village... which means it'll be easier on us when we catch up to the others," said Bishop. "As long as we catch them before they go to ground." Kail shook her head, trying to rid herself of the strange feeling that she wasn't quite inside her body.

"If their forces are divided, good. But that means the remainder will travel faster, and the trail will be harder to follow," she said.

"Eh? Well now, aren't _you_ a bright ray of hope," he said

"She was just pointing out the realities of the situation, Bishop," said Casavir. Though his face was flushed, animated by battle, his blue eyes were icy.

"I suggest you rein in that attitude of yours, paladin. What, you think she can't speak for herself?" said Bishop. Kail rolled her eyes at Khelgar, who merely grinned at her.

"It was not my intention to speak for her," said Casavir.

"Yeah? Then don't. And maybe next time you'll sound convincing," replied Bishop. "What I was going to say is the little wildcat is right. And what's more, our friends won't be leaving an obvious trail this time, since they don't have the men to bait any more ambushes."

"If that's the best they could do, we'll be fine," said Kail. Although she didn't exactly relish the idea of fighting again, at least they were out in the open, where they could get a clear view of their enemy. She hated fighting in small, enclosed spaces.

"My words exactly," said Khelgar. "It's almost a shame, it is."

"A little difficult, but we handled it," said Bishop. "More than could be said for the villagers here, giving up their homes to the enemy."

"The githyanki are not common soldiers," said Casavir. "And the villagers are not veterens of battle, like we are. This is not the first time the githyanki have appeared at a village unawares. Surprise and ambushes favour them. I think the behaviour of the villagers can be forgiven." Kail felt a flash of anger run through her. Surely Casavir couldn't be talking about _her_ village, about West Harbor... could he? Her people had not given into the githyanki. They had fought to defend themselves. Yes, some had died, but how many more would have suffered if they surrendered to the 'mercy' of the githyanki?

"I'm just glad we survived that attack," she said, cutting Casavir off. "Let's keep moving."

"Alright then, let's head out," said Bishop. "We have a lot of ground to cover, and I'll-"

"Forgive me," interruped a woman as she ran out from the house. "You... are you hunting a woman... Shandra Jerro?"

"We are," said Kail. "And the longer we speak to you, the farther she gets."

"Those creatures..." said the woman. "We heard her screaming as they were carrying her off. I tried to call out to her, but... I ddn't realise they had her at first, but she makes a merchant run through Ember and Port Llast during harvest season. We hadn't seen her yet this year, though, and... Sorry, where are my manners. I am Alaine. Please, I saw the beasts taking her to the mountains to the north and east. They barely have an hour on you, but they were moving fast. And thank you for savning us from those creatures. I can't th-"

"Don't thank us," said Kail. "_We_ were merely doing what we needed to survive. Remember that the next time somebody tries to take your home from you."

"Listen to her, girl," said Bishop. "Next time, fight, or next time, you'll die."

"Not if I am here, ranger -- should you or anyone else forsake them," said Casavir.

"You can't be everywhere, 'paladin'," said Bishop. "And sometimes defending the weak just keeps them weak. Now, can we go without more mewling dogs getting in our way? Every moment we wait, the colder the trail gets." He stalked past Alaine

"What's his problem?" the woman asked.

"I'm still trying to figure that out," shrugged Kail, and she hurried after him. She heard Khelgar follow her, and then, after a moment's hesitation, Casavir followed too.

"My lady, there is something I would like to discuss with you," said he said, matching her shorter stride.

"Can it wait until we've rescued Shandra?" she asked. "Right now, that's my priority."

"Very well. Perhaps we will have chance to talk... in private," he said, shooting a glance at Bishop's back, "once we return to Neverwinter." She nodded, and he fell back to walk beside Khelgar.

"It's you..." said a voice from the shadows, making her jump in fright. "You're the one who will destroy Ember." She stepped forward toward the speaker and realised it was a young boy. He wore ragged clothes, and was shoeless. He didn't look like a typical farmer's child... even a poor farmer would provide his son with better clothing than this.

"What are you talking about?" she asked him. "I've never even been here before."

"Wait... no... I was mistaken. The killer looks like you, but isn't," he said. She noticed that his eyes were not resting directly on her. Instead, he was looking past her, as if there was something only he could see. She turned her head, but saw nothing. "Ember cannot be saved," he continued. "All within the village when the time comes will perish, except one -- me. I think you're carrying something which will allow me to survive. You cannot help me in any other way."

"Only you?" she asked. "What about the other villagers?"

"Ember's fate is set in stone, but mine is not. However, I will share Ember's fate unless you help me."

"Very well," she shrugged, placing her pack on the floor in front of him. "Have a look and see if I have anything you can use.

"My lady, I do not think..." said Casavir quietly.

"Shh," she said. The boy rummaged through her pack, ignored her rations, the decently sized pile of gold, and the various gems that Neeshka had given her. _Sometimes, people will sell you something for a gem when they wouldn't for all the gold in Neverwinter,_ she'd said. _Of course, if I wanted something that badly I'd just steal it from them, but your fingers aren't as light as mine, so you should take some of these gems as base currency._

"Thank you," said the boy, placing all of her items back in her pack. "But you have nothing I can use. What about him?" The boy pointed to Bishop

"What _about_ me?" asked the ranger.

"Let him have a look," she said.

"Fine. But try to take anything, boy, and I'll take both your hands as trophies. Got it?" The boy immediately went through the same procedure with his pack as he had hers.

"Your knife..." said the boy, holding up a small hunting blade, "It is... different. I believe it can save me."

"My skinning knife?" asked Bishop. "I've had this thing forever, there's nothing special about it."

"What's so special about it?" she asked the boy. Again his eyes went glassy as he stared _through_ the knife.

"There is a power sleeping in it, but it will not awaken while it is in your hands."

"I see," she said. "Bishop, give him the knife."

"No. Unless this knife is going between his eyes, it's staying with me."

"Keep travelling with me, and I'll make sure you're rewarded ten times over," she promised.

"Is that so? Fine... but I'm not going to forget this, _or_ how much you owe me," he said, handing the knife to the boy.

"Thank you," he replied. "We shall meet again soon, I think." And with that he ran back between the houses and out of view.

"What a strange little fella," said Khelgar.

"Yes, very strange," said Kail. "But let's get moving, the githyanki are gaining time."


	33. Everybody has Demons

_33. Everybody has Demons_

"Are you sure they went in here?" asked Kail, peering into the cave.

"If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't have said so," Bishop replied. He had tracked the githyanki for a full day after Ember, until it had gotten too dark to go any further and they were forced to make camp. They were up at first light, and by late morning they had arrived at the cave, which Bishop said was the githyanki base.

"Alright. In we go then." She lit a torch and handed it to the ranger.

"Oh no, ladies first," he said, bowing and gesturing at the entrance with his free arm.

"I will go first," said Casavir, taking the torch from her and striding forward.

"Hey, if anybody's going first into a small dark cave, it should be me!" said Khelgar, hurrying after him. "We Dwarves are happiest underground, after all." She turned to follow Khelgar, but Bishop stepped in front of her, blocking the way.

"Now wouldn't it be terrible if there was a dragon down there, and it ate him," he mused.

"Yes, because then I would be forced to put up with your company until we find Shandra," she smiled sweetly. "Now are you going in, or not?"

"After you, wildcat," he said, stepping aside and letting her past. "And won't worry... I'll watch your back."

She followed the found of Khelgar's footsteps, and the tiny speck of light ahead of her that was Casavir striding quickly, and soon she soon got the impression that the walls around her were widening. The air seemed thinner, less enclosed, and a moment later the passage opened into a large cavern.

"There's someone coming, lass," said Khelgar, his ear to the ground. "A lot of someones, I reckon." She loosened her daggers in her belt, and briefly touched all of her throwing knives. Behind her, Bishop nocked an arrow onto his bow. A group of githyanki approached, but, oddly, their weapons were down. Then one stepped forward; it was a little taller than the rest, and wore a strange headdress of black and white feathers. She suspected they were not from any sort of bird that was found locally.

"Zeeaire has foretold your coming, _Kalach-Cha_," it said. "She sent me here to end you."

"I'm surprised you're talking to me," she replied. "Most of your people just attack."

"I enjoy knowing my prey, _Kalach-Cha_. I find it sweetens the taste of their death. Zeeaire allows me this luxury."

"And who might you be?" she asked.

"My name is unimportant. You need only know that Zeeaire has granted me the honour of killing the Kalach-Cha and taking your head as a trophy back to the Astral Plane."

"If I collected the heads of every githyanki _I've_ killed..." she said, trying to tally on her fingers.

"I have lost many seasoned warriors because of you," said the githyanki. "For this, and your many other crimes against the githyanki, you will now die." It turned to its companions. "Slay the _Kalach-Cha._ For Zeeaire!"

"I get the feeling this 'Zeeaire' person doesn't really like you very much," said Bishop as he let his arrow fly. It took one of the githyanki through the head. Even facing potential imminent death, she found herself impressed with his ability with the bow. The only other person she had seen to match his power and accuracy was Daeghun. Of course she would never tell _him_ that.

"What can I say, I make friends wherever I go," she said. As the rest of the githyanki rushed forward she threw two of her knives underhand, and they both found their mark. She reached into her shirt and threw two more, but one missed its mark. She gave a hiss of vexation. Then she bent down and took two more knives from their pockets within the sides of her boots, and when she threw them they both hit the same target.

Khelgar, meanwhile, was doing what he did best; punching. Unfortunately for the githyanki, Khelgar's height meant that he threw punches in some very painful, yet not necessary lethal, places. He did not need to worry about his opponents getting up, however; each one that went down shortly received an arrow through the chest from Bishop.

"Well, that was fun," said Khelgar after it had ended. Casavir was examining a cut on his head, and he winced every time the paladin touched it.

"I think we're going to have to think about getting you a helmet, Khelgar," she said.

"Says the lass who won't even wear the lightest of leather armour!" he scoffed.

"I told you before, armour just hampers me. Lucas says, 'people who wear armour expect to be hit. The best incentive to not be hit..."

"...is to not wear armour," Khelgar and Bishop together.

"Oh, I mentioned that before, huh?"

"Who is Lucas?" asked Casavir.

"I guess you could call him my mentor," she said.

"More like her invisible friend," said Bishop. "Nobody's ever actually _seen_ Lucas, yet he always has a pearl of wisdom for just about every situation imaginable. I'm surprised he's not had anything to say on the matter of tracking down a farmgirl who's managed to get herself kidnappd by the githyanki."

"Khelgar, do you want to lead now that we're underground? I'm counting on your keen senses to keep us out of any more ambushes," she said, ignoring Bishop.

"Aye lass. I'll keep us safe. Just follow me."

o - o - o - o - o

Khelgar motioned for the others to step forward quietly. Kail raised an eyebrow at him.

"There's someone up ahead," he whispered. "Somebody other than the githyanki." She did that thing, where she tilted her head slightly and looked past him, as if she was listening to something only she could hear.

"Then we should go and see who _else_ has good reason to be walking around a cave in Luskan territory," she replied at last. He nodded, and she let him lead the way. Behind him he heard Casavir and Bishop move forward as well. Now those two were going to be trouble, or he wasn't an Ironfist! The Tiefling had told him that Casavir was sweet on Kail, whatever that meant. As far as he was concerned, the blasted thief was delusional. Everyone knew that paladins were all about honour and serving their God, and praying a lot and not drinking very much. Still, he was sensing some... resentment from Casavir, aimed at Bishop. That wasn't very paladin-like.

He surprised himself by wishing that Neeshka was there. She seemed to understand humans pretty well... then again, she was half human herself. Dwarves were simpler; you lived your life as if every day was your last. You brought honour to your clan by your actions, and gave your life if necessary to save a brother. And when a Dwarf finally wanted to settle down and find himself a nice comely wench, you petitioned her father and agreed on mining rights.

Humans seemed to have it all backwards. They hid their feelings, said things they didn't mean, and just didn't enjoy ale enough, in his opinion. Not that he didn't enjoy the company of humans, of course! Kail was one of the nicest humans he had ever met. True, she was a bit strange, but how many bards weren't? Just look at Grobnar... the Gnome was _definitely_ a few tankards short of a full barrel of ale. Now, humans... well, he couldn't really say anything about Qara. She was just a slip of a girl, barely old enough to be let out from under her mother's skirts. Casavir was alright, when he wasn't being _too_ dire. He didn't care much for Bishop, but Kail didn't seem to hate him, so that was something at least.

His musings were interrupted by the sight in front of him; half a dozen githyanki were standing guard around a man, who was talking to... by Clangeddin's hammer, he could only assume it was a demon! The thing was huge, at least eleven feet tall, and 'hulking' was an accurate word to describe it. Beside the demon were other creatures... they appeared to be human women, but they had large, leathery wings. _More demons_, he thought. Then he realised that the man -- and he could see now that it was a human man -- was talking.

"Find the githyanki leader and retrieve the shards from her, Zaxis. Leave no one alive," he said to the large demon. It shambled off out of sight. Then the sorcerer turned, and noticed Kail. "As for these newcomers... deal with them," he instructed the other demons, then disappeared in the same direction as the large demon. Immediately the githyanki started forward, but something didn't seem... right.

"Look at their eyes," he said. "They seem so empty. What's wrong with them?"

"They've been dominated," said Kail, reaching for her daggers. "Those things," she indicated the women with wings, "are succubi. Or so I believe. Just try to stay out of their reach, or they may try to control you too."

Bah, he wasn't having that! No infernal demon was going to control Khelgar Ironfist! It just wasn't right. He removed a Dwarven throwing axe from his belt and hurled it at one of the women. It hit her square in the stomach, causing her innards to gush out, and she fell to the floor with a cry. Normally he wouldn't dream of fighting a woman, but these were no ordinary women, and under no ordinary circumstances. The longer they were delayed, the greater the chance of Shandra being killed, and he hadn't suffered days on that damn boat to Highcliff simply so that she could get herself killed!

He took out his mace, and one by one the charmed githyanki fell before his blows. He could _feel_ the strength flowing into him from the Gauntlets of Ironfist. It was as if he was Khelgar, and yet more than Khelgar, all at the same time. He was one of a prestigious line of Ironfists who had worn the Gauntlets, and, in a way, the former owners of the gauntlets were helping to guide his hands.

When he turned from the fight he noticed that Casavir had disposed of the second demon woman, and Kail had dispatched the last. Not a bad day's fighting, all in all.

"I wonder who that man was," said Kail, wiping the demon blood from her daggers.

"Somebody very powerful, to be commanding demons of that size," said Casavir. Khelgar nodded. The big demon... Zaxis?... was taller than an ogre, and more than twice as wide.

"If you're worried about confronting him, we could always turn back," said Bishop. "The farm girl's probably dead by now anyway."

"We're not turning back on account of some human and his pet demons!" Khelgar said. "Just you let me lead the way, and I'll deal with him if we run into him again," he said, slapping his armour to prove a point.

"Then by all means, lead on," Bishop replied. He nodded, hefted his mace, and marched forward.

o - o - o - o - o

Kail peered at the scene in front of her. Two succubi were gathered around a golem, similar to the one that had attacked them in the Merchant District in Neverwinter.

"Listen," said one of the succubi to the others, "when I strike it, it's like the tolling of a bell." She raked her claws across the construct's armour, producing a metallic sound.

"I can still smell the stench of its creator on its surface, running deep into the ore," said the other. "Why would the gith keep such a thing, as broken as it is? We should tear it apart, see if its limbs twitch when cleaved from the body." The demon began hitting the creature, raking it with her claws. The other succubus suddenly swivelled her head around to stare right at Kail and her friends.

"Why... it seems one victim has drawn others," said the succubus. Immediately both of the succubi turned from their attack on the construct and advanced forward.

"I hate demons," said Kail, readying her throwing knives. She threw the first two, but the succubi knocked them out of the air with rapid speed. Khelgar and Casavir rushed to meet them. She circled around the back of the succubi, and used her daggers to tear at their wings. One of the demons suddenly unfolded her wings, knocking her to the ground. Her daggers went flying from her hands and she hurried to retrieve them. As she returned to the fray, however, she realised that she was too late. One succubus fell to Casavir's hammer, and the other went down with one of Bishop's arrows through her neck.

"Hey, don't go stealing me kills, ranger," said Khelgar.

"You were taking too long to get the job done," Bishop smirked.

"Why you... I..."

"Calm down, Khelgar," she said. "What's most important is that we get to Shandra as quickly as possible."

"Aye lass, you're right," he replied, looking chagrined.

"Anything being torn apart by demons is an ally in my book," said Bishop. He was examining the construct, which seemed to be inactive. "Anybody in there?" he asked, rapping his knuckles on its body.

"Maybe you shouldn't antagonise the killing-machine," she told him.

"What, you've never seen a construct?" Khelgar asked Bishop. "Don't have much appreciation for magic meself, but you have to admire the workmanship here." He walked over and prodded the construct in various places. "It looks to be made of solid steel. Oh, and stay clear of those bladed appendages, they're sharp."

"I remember fighting this thing in Neverwinter," she said. Or if it wasn't the same one, it was at least very similar. "It fled through a portal."

"Obviously this thing wasn't on the githyanki's side, whatever it was... or those demons. Which means there's someone _else_ tracking our movements," said Bishop. "How many enemies do you have, anyway? There's almost more than I can count."

"There's a surprise," said Khelgar.

"Watch it," said Bishop, narrowing his eyes at the Dwarf. "But you know, seems to me this thing could be worth some coin. Let's take it with us, sell it off to some wizard."

"Grobnar would love this," she said, eyeing up the blades on the construct's arms. "We'll come back for it after we've found Shandra."

"Oh, that's all we need. Give the crazy Gnome a pointy instrument of death," he said.

"He's got a point, lass," said Khelgar.

"Don't worry, I'll tell him to be careful," she assured them. "Come on, let's see what's down this corridor."

As it turned out, the only thing down the tunnel was a flight of stairs down to the next level. And so, with Khelgar leading the way, they descended into the darkness.

o - o - o - o - o

The group immediately stepped out into a huge chamber. In front of them, and blocking the only way forward, were three succubi and another demon. Kail stepped forward as quietly as she could, loosening her daggers in their sheaths. When she got closer, she noticed that the male demon was stood in a circle of bright, glowing light. Behind him was a shimmering panel of light, with a swirling vortex in the middle of it. Definitely some sort of magic, but nothing she recognised.

"Such a rare opportunity, my sisters," said one of the succubi. "A mighty devil, trapped and helpless."

"Perhaps we can find a way to amuse him, to lessen his suffering," said another.

"Or perhaps we could convince him to amuse_ us_," said the third. "What say you, devil? Are we not worthy of your attention?"

"Sisters, it appears that this handsome one is immune to our advances," said the first.

"Such a shame... and to be turned away by such indifference. Why, I am dreadfully hurt," the third said.

"But is he indifferent to pain?" the second succubi asked. "That, perhaps, is worthy to test."

"Hsst! We are not alone, sisters!" said the first, catching sight of Kail.

By the time the fight was over, she was getting extremely fed up of fighting demons. Whoever the man was who commanded them, he was going to be sorry that he had crossed her. All she needed to do was catch upto him.

"Well met," said the devil, still stood in his shining circle. "I am grateful to you for ridding me of those... nuisances."

"Be careful," Casavir said quietly in her ear. "It is a pit fiend, one of the higher devils of the Hells. Trust nothing it says."

"Thanks for the warning, I'll be careful," she replied.

"Very well then. Should you need my help, I shall be here."

"Regardless of your intent," the devil continued, "you actions have benefited me. I wish to help you in return, if you will allow it."

"Your offer most likely has a great many catches, but I have precious little patience left," she said, twirling one of her knives over her knuckles.

"Well-spoken," the devil said appreciatively. "I, too, have little patience for the... unpleasant nuances that usually mark such bargains offered by others of my kind. You see, I am not here by choice. I was bound to this circle by the githyanki... old enemies of yours, I believe?" She nodded. "Once bound, I was forced to shape the barrier you see ahead, to prevent any... trespass."

"Tell me about this barrier," she said, indicating the swirling screen of light.

"It is no simple thing of stone, metal, or clever lock. Similar to the githyanki portals, this barrier exists outside this plane. It has been shaped into an extradimensional wall through which nothing may pass. It cannot be dispelled, but my presence here feeds it and allows it to maintain its shape. If you were to banish me, however, it would resume its natural shape... a tiny sphere. Far less of an obstruction than the wall ahead."

"And how can I banish you?"

"You can banish me by speaking my true name," said the devil. "Of course, I will need your promise that you will use it only to banish me. This agreement will be as binding as this circle. If you have any doubts, please know that I only wish free passage for us both. Do you agree?"

"As long as you honour your side in thought and deed, yes," she said.

"Of course. My kind is bound by laws as well, you know. Now, listen carefully... my true name is 'Mephasm'. Speak my name and say "I command you to be banished from this plane."

"Before I free you, I want you to answer some questions for me," she said.

"There is little time for such questions... but enough, I suppose. What is it you wish to know?"

"Have you seen a human girl called Shandra pass through here?"

"She came this way, yes, born on the backs of the githyanki. She now lies ahead, in Zeeaire's hands."

"What are they planning to do to her?"

"She will be tortured. Zeeaire will flay the thoughts from her until she's a shell, then sacrifice her, according to githyanki custom. But between you and Zeeaire lies a tanar'ri, a demon called Zaxis. And he will do everything in his power to stop you."

"Tell me about Zaxis," she said.

"Zaxis is a powerful but otherwise unremarkable hezrou tanar'ri. If you seek to pass through the chamber of the complex, you will have to face him. Fortunately, if you defeat Zaxis, the minions that he has brought with him will be banished back to the Abyss along with him... and you can continue on, unimpeded."

"Is Zaxis his true name?"

"No, that is the name he uses among others of his kind. I do not know his true name, though it may be possible to learn it from him."

"And how can I learn that?"

"Not an easy feat. To learn the true name of a being, you usually have to put them in quite a compromising position, such as the one I am in."

"Why is he after the shards?" she asked. It might not be a good idea to let this 'Zaxis' know that she had a few shards as well.

"He has been commanded to find them. I doubt Zaxis has given the shards much thought, only his master has."

"I saw the one who summoned Zaxis. Do you know who he is?"

"I do not. But to command an army of demons requires considerable power... for a mortal."

"How could be have got that much power?"

"There are many ways. Artifacts, pacts with extraplanar entities, or, though doubtful, long years of study."

"He sent Zaxis after the shards," she said. "Why would he want them?"

"I cannot say. If I were to gues, I would say that he seeks to use their power to achieve his ends, or he wants to prevent them from being used against him."

"I don't have any more questions," she said. "I'm ready to banish you."

"Very well. Invoke my true name and release me from this plane."

"Mephasm," she said, "I command you to be banished from this plane."

"At last... I feel the circle unravelling... and look, the barrier relaxes to its normal shape, as promised." Even as she watched the barrier grew smaller and smaller, until it was nothing but a sphere, small enough to sit in the palm of her hand. Mephasm stepped out of the circle and picked it up. "Barely a pebble, and an obstruction no more. Here, keep it, it may be of use in the time between our next meeting." He handed her the sphere as he began to fade. "We _will_ meet again."


	34. Zeeaire

_34. Zeeaire_

Mephasm has spoken true when he said that the huge demon, Zaxis, stood between Kail and Zeeaire. Sure enough, as she led her companions forward, they encountered the demon with an entourage of succubi. When he did not attack her on sight, she risked stepping a little closer.

"Zaxis does not know how you got past the barrier, but Zaxis is pleased to see you," said the demon.

"A hezrou demon," said Casavir. "Keep your distance, they are said to be incredibly strong."

"All our bashing and rending has failed to open this door, but our claws will tear you easily," said Zaxis.

"This one needs some pride knocked out of him, I think," said Khelgar, hefting his mace.

"Agreed," said Bishop. "Let's put some arrows through his eyes."

"Hold on, I want to get some information out of him first," she said.

"What? Talk with... that? Don't be a fool!" said Khelgar.

"Alright, we'll wait for now," said Bishop. "But he makes a move, I'm letting arrows fly."

"Why do you wait, mortal?" asked the demon. "Do you fear to face Zaxis?"

"We are both here for the same reason, and that door blocks both our progress," she said.

"Yes..." said Zaxis slowly. "The door will not yield to Zaxis. The one within, the female gith, has sealed it."

"Won't your master be displeased if you fail him?"

"Yes... his anger will be great. If Zaxis fails his tasks, he shall be cast down."

"Wait..." she said thoughtfully. "If your task was to breach the door, you've _already_ failed your master, haven't you?"

"Zaxis has not failed! The door stands but it will fall!"

"But we've succeeded in delaying you long enough -- your mission has failed."

"No! Zaxis only needs more time, that is a-" the demon was cut off mid-sentence as a column of flames rose up from the ground. "Rrrrrrrrrrr nooooooooo!" said Zaxis as he was unsummoned back to the Abyss from whence he came. With Zaxis gone, the door behind him, sealed only a moment ago, opened to show several githyanki clustered around another portal.

"Ready?" she asked her friends.

"Yes," said Casavir. "Let us finish what we came here to do. Shandra needs us."

"Aye, lass," said Khelgar. "It'll be good to get back to fighting the githyanki again, after all these demons."

"Why not," said Bishop. "It's not like I've got anything better to do right now."

She nodded, gave her hidden knives a last minute checking over, and stepped forward into the room. Immediately she caught sight of Shandra, locked in a cage against the wall to her right. Half a dozen githyanki guards stood clustered around a portal, in which stood a lean, leathery-skinned githyanki woman; Zeeaire.

"Though these demons were unanticipated, your arrival was not," the gith woman said to her. Her voice was distorted and echoed strangely around the room. "I have seen it burning brightly in my visions for some time. How long did you think you could escape us? You have stolen our shards, defiled them with your touch, and now you will die, Kalach-Cha."

"I care little for yours reasons," she replied. "Just return the girl. Now."

"Trust me," said Shandra to Zeeaire. "Once she gets on your trail, you're doomed."

"Know that you are in no position to demand _anything_ from me," said Zeeaire. "You will answer for your crimes... along with this frail thing that carries the last of the Jerro blood."

"I deserve to know what crimes I've committed," she said.

"You don't know your crimes?" asked Zeeaire in disbelief. "Very well, let me recount them. You have slaughtered many of our people, and you hold in your possession relics sacred to the githyanki, a... silver sword -- fragments of it."

"You don't sound very certain of yourself," said Kail.

"You put too much importance on your actions and your crime," replied Zeeaire. "You have nothing that other thieves have not stolen before. You think there is something special, or unique about your crime -- or the shards you carry? There is not."

"So it was as I suspected... this blade is more important to you than anyone knows," she mused.

"You fill the air around you with lies and accusations, but you will find they make a poor shield. I have recounted your crimes -- you shall stall your punishment no longer. Know that I will hear your pleas... and allow you this one last chance to atone for your crime. My offer of mercy is this; I will grant a swift, painless death for you and your companions, if you freely hand over the shards you have taken."

"Interesting, I was about to offer you the same deal," she said. Zeeaire hissed, and raised her hand. Kail felt movement in her pack, then one by one the shards flew out of their hidden places, spinning in the air as they floated towards Zeeaire.

"Did you really think you could keep such relics of my people? They do not belong to you," the woman said. "Odd, I have all the ones you carry... and yet it seems you still possess one." The woman raised her other hand now, and gestured towards her. A pain, like nothing else she had ever experienced, exploded within her chest. She felt herself being lifted above the ground, but the pain inside her was so overwhelming that it was all she could do to hold on to consciousness. _Stop!_ she screamed in her mind. She heard the blood pumping through her veins, knew that if Zeeaire kept this up for much longer then her heart would simply explode. Behind her, she heard her friends shouting, but she could not make out a single word that they said.

"You have a piece of the Sword inside of you," said Zeeaire. She dropped her hands, and Kail dropped to the ground, panting and shivering, just thankful that the pain had stopped, though it was not completely gone. Her chest ached badly, her lungs felt like they were on fire. "And I will remove it from you... by force!"

The githyanki guards rushed forward as Zeeaire began casting a spell. Casavir strode quickly to Kail and picked her up by her arms, dragging her back towards the door. She waved him off her, gulping for air.

"Stop... the githyanki," she said. "Save Shandra."

Khelgar and Casavir rushed to meet the attack, and Bishop let his arrows fly. Painfully she managed to stand, using the wall for support. Then, head still spinning from agony, she slowly made her way across the room. Dodging githyanki blows, she tried to make her way towards Shandra, but instead was pushed closer and closer towards Zeeaire. She saw the woman inside the portal casting a spell, and wished there was some way she could stop her. But the portal seemed to be outside of time and space; though Bishop fired arrows at it, they did not enter the portal, merely passed through it.

It was then that Kail felt something heating up inside her pocket. She reached inside and pulled out the sphere that Mephasm had given her. He'd said she might find it useful. But why should be it be heating up _now_, of all times? She looked again at Zeeaire's portal. _Of course! Both the portal and the sphere are inter-planar objects. Put together, they must interfere with each other._ She hurled the sphere at the portal, ready to step back at a moment's notice. Nothing happened at first, then everything happened all at once; Zeeaire's portal exploded, knocking everybody in the room off their feet. Kail was thrown backwards against the wall near Shandra, and the githyanki who had been closest to the portal lay on the ground as if stunned.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Bishop quickly shot the inactive githyanki guards as Casavir hauled Khelgar to his feet. Kail stood, shakily, and shook her head to rid herself of the ringing in her ears. _Too bad Grobnar wasn't here to see that_, she thought. _He would have loved it._

She took a step forward, but it was too much. The pain of having a shard nearly ripped out of her chest, followed by the force of the explosion, had taken its toll, and her legs gave way, leaving her slumped unceremoniously on the floor.

"The portal!" screamed Zeeaire. "No! Without it... I must kill you quickly. Every moment that on this plane... every moment will pass like a year."

Kail watched as Khelgar engaged Zeeaire in hand-to-hand combat. Casavir was still fighting one of the guards, and Bishop was trying to get off a shot without hitting the other two. She had never felt so at a loss. She could barely even breathe normally, let alone stand or even fight. From the cage, Shandra was cheering Khelgar on.

At last, though, Zeeaire's body gave way to the ravages of time. Every second that passed, Zeeaire aged weeks, or even months. Her tough, leathery skin began to turn grey, and her hair began to thin and drop out. Khelgar gave up trying to strike her as the woman dropped to the ground, gasping and wheezing for air. Somehow, Kail managed to stand, and tottered over to the dying woman. The iris' of her eyes had turned white, and her gaze was unfocused, as if she couldn't even see anymore.

"You... you think this is over? You are wrong, _Kalach-Cha_, and I hope the pain you have brought here is revisited upon you a thousandfold," said Zeeaire. "The Lich Queen will know of my fall, yes, but it will be too late. What comes for you will be revenge enough."

"And what comes for me?" she asked.

"We were never the ones you had to fear. In defying us, you have harmed your own people -- and everything on your plane. The githyanki will strike at you no longer. This was the last of our strongholds devoted to the recovery of the shards. There will be no more attacks from my people, because it will serve no purpose. You have sealed your fate."

"Why were you even here?"

"The shards you carry were needed... the shard in you... all are _needed_. Evil wakes, _Kalach-Cha_, and in killing me you now stand alone against what comes."

"And what is that?"

"An ancient enemy comes for you, one that has existed for millennia. You have already felt the effects of his presence, and he will grow stronger with time. This enemy, this King of Shadows... if he succeeds in his plans, your civilisation will become dust, and all life will be consumed by darkness."

"Who is this King of Shadows?" she asked. Zeeaire gave a deep, gasping breath,

"I will see you in death, _Kalach-Cha._ I do not think I... will have to wait long." The githyanki leader gave one last, agonising breath, and then she took no more.

"What a way to go," said Khelgar.

"Hardly pleasant," said Casavir.

"No, but she went out fighting," replied the Dwarf. "Ye've gotta respect that,"

"Uh, not that I'm not grateful for you killing her," said Shandra, "but do you think somebody could let me out of this cage now?"

"Of course," said Kail. She lifted the latch on the door and allowed the other woman to come out.

"I'm getting sooo tired of this," said Shandra. "You have to let me save you sometime, or else I'll never be able to pay you back."

"Oh, there'll be plenty of time for you to pay _all_ of us on the way back to Neverwinter," said Bishop suggestively.

"You all put me in danger!" said Shandra. "I'm not paying you a single coin."

"Well then you'll be paying me another way," he replied. "My bedroll's a little cold at night... I'm thinking you can fix that."

"Maybe you'd best shut yer mouth, ranger. Yer words are starting to anger me," said Khelgar.

"If you don't watch your tongue, Bishop, I'm cutting it off," said Kail, gesturing at his head with a dagger.

"Jealousy's thick in this little band, I see. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten _your_ pretty face, fair leader."

"I won't have you speaking to her or anyone else that way, Bishop," said Casavir, his face hard.

"Oh, really, what a surprise," said Bishop. "How'd you like it if I left you here in Luskan territory with your righteousness to keep you company?"

"Enough of this," said Kail. "We're leaving."

"Fine with me, lass," said Khelgar. "The sooner we're back to the Flagon, the sooner we're back to the ale."

"Then follow me," she said. "We just need to get something first."

o - o - o - o - o

Elanee gave a deep sigh. In front of her the waters of the Skymirror were still, barely a ripple marring the surface. The offering, which she had placed on the water, floated where she had left it. That could mean one of two things; either Skymirror had not accepted her token, because she had been found unworthy... or... or there was nobody left to contact.

She didn't know which possibility worried her more. Always, she had strived to maintain balance, to be at peace, and in harmony with the land around her. Though this place spoke with a different voice to that of the Mere, it was still the same land. If she had been found wanting, then she no longer knew her place within the world. What would be the fate of a druid that the land would no longer accept?

On the other hand, if there was nobody left to talk to, then that was hardly better. She knew that at least one member of her own Circle, Elder Naevan, was alive... or had been a short time ago, when she last spoke to him through the Skymirror. Could something have happened to him since then? Could he have been killed, or was he lost in his madness, like Kaleil had been?

Was this her fault? It was true that she had not been back to her own Circle in a long time, but she felt that the task she had been carrying out was more important. _Watch the child_, she had been told. _We must make sure that no taint develops in her from carrying the piece of the broken sword within her. We must be sure that she will not become like that which destroyed the sword. And we must make sure that she will be no danger, both to the land, and to those around her._

And so, since the battle at West Harbor, almost twenty-three years ago, Elanee had been the silent watcher. She had seen the child being cared for as a babe, had seen her overcome challenges and obstacles as a child, had seen her make friends, had seen her powers develop, had seen her begin training with Lucas... all had seemed well. The girl seemed to suffer no ill from carrying within her a shard of the sword that had dared strike a blow at the King of Shadows.

_And yet, the githyanki had come._ They were seeking the shards, she was sure of it. That could mean only one thing. The power of the shards had grown enough for the githyanki to sense them once again. For two decades the shards had slumbered, inert, and to the unknowing, nothing more than pieces of metal. But what had triggered that power? There were two possibilies, as far as she could see.

Either Kail herself was the cause. The young woman had been increasing in strength and power over the past few years, as she left her childhood behind and came into adulthood. Lucas had helped her to master her mind, be more aware of herself and her abilities, so perhaps somehow the shards were responding to this... _focus_. After all, the githyanki were one of the most focused races to occasionally grace the realms. And a silver sword had power of its own. The people of the Kara-Tur thought their blades had a soul, a life, but if any sword had life, it was the silver swords of the githyanki.

The other possible, and more worrying explanation, was that the shards were responding to an outside force. They had been whole when the sword fought against the King of Shadows. Perhaps the shards remembered that, and were coming to life once more because the King of Shadows had found a way to return. That would certainly explain the taint that she felt within the Mere.

Only one thing was sure. The githyanki would stop at nothing to reclaim the shards of their lost sword. And it would only be a matter of time before Kail found out that one of the shards lived inside her.

With deep regret at having neglected her duty to the land for so long, Elanee stood, and left the Skymirror. It was time to return to Neverwinter.


	35. Homecoming

_35. Homecoming_

"Neeshka, what do you think of this colour? Do you think Shandra will like it?" asked Grobnar.

"It's bright yellow," she pointed out.

"Yes, I thought it would go well with the colour of her hair. And then these lovely bright blue trousers, to offset the hazel in her eyes." Neeshka sighed. These past few days had been trying, to say the least. Grobnar meant well, but his taste was eccentric at best.

"Hmm, well let's think. Who else might wear bright yellow and bright blue together. How about... a court fool? Do you really want Shandra to feel like a jester whenever she puts on her clothes?"

"Oh my, I hadn't thought of that!" said Grobnar. "But I've already got several pairs of trousers in the colours and materials that you suggested, and more than enough shirts, which convey both form and function, and a couple of those nice hats with flowers on the top... and I've still got all this material left!" he said, holding up bolts of silks, satins and cottons.

"Well, why don't you use those to make some nice colourful bedsheets or something?" she suggested. _Something that she won't have to wear out in public, anyway_, she thought but didn't say.

"What a splendid idea!" said Grobnar. "I-"

"There," said Duncan, interrupting Grobnar as he approached the pair. "The locksmith's all finished. Now every room in the Flagon has reinforced bolts with triple-barrel locks. Nobody else is going to be kidnapped from my tavern, not if I have any say in it."

"I love what you've done with the colour in here too," she said, eyeing up the newly painted walls. "You can barely see the blood stains and spattered githyanki brains anymore."

"I really do hope they're all okay," said Grobnar sadly. "I feel so sorry for Shandra. She lost everything when the githyanki burnt down her farm, and kidnapped her, and took her into the wilds of Luskan to torture and maim her. I wish I could give her something of mine, then she has more things, but I doubt she'd want any of my tools, or inventions, or this new rapid-fire crossbow I've been designing, or the collected works of Gnomish love songs."

"Rapid fire crossbow?" she asked, already dreading the answer.

"Oh yes, it's for Kail! You see, I've noticed that when she runs out of throwing knives, she has to start fighting in hand to hand combat. And, well, that's rather dangerous for someone who doesn't wear armour, isn't it? I mean, give me a good old chain shirt anyday! Helps to deflect those stray arrows and bolts, and the occasional rock thrown at you by passers-by, not to mention low flying pigeon and-"

"About the crossbow?" she prompted.

"Well I thought that if Kail has a nice crossbow, then when she runs out of knives she can just stand back with you and I, and fire upto ten bolts at a time into a single enemy."

"Have you ever heard of the concept of overkill?"

"Of course, but one wants to make sure that one's opponent is dead! Or that if the opponent is raised by an evil necromancer, then at least being full of bolts will severely hamper your newly-raised zombie foe!"

"Right," said Neeshka. "I don't think Shandra would want that. But we can take her shopping when they get back," she suggested. Grobnar's face immediately lit up.

"I look forward to it immensely," said the Gnome.

"I hope you know what you're doing, lass," Duncan whispered.

"Trust me," she said quietly, "I've been shopping with _Khelgar_ before. Grobnar can't possibly be any worse."

The door of the Flagon opened. Grobnar immediately picked up a big banner that he had made which said "Welcome Home Shandra" in big letters, and waved it in the air.

"SURPRISE!" he shouted. Elanee closed the door behind her, and blinked at Grobnar.

"Yes. I am," she said.

"Oh, dreadfully sorry about that," he said, rolling up the banner. "I thought you were Shandra."

"I see. And why did you think that?"

"Because the githyanki kidnapped her, and Kail went with Sir Khelgar and Sir Casavir and Sir Bishop, to get her back!" said Grobnar. A look of alarm passed across the Elf's face. _Ah, somebody's hiding something!_ thought Neeshka.

"What? When did this happen?" Elanee asked.

"A couple of days ago," said Duncan. "Took her right out of her room. Put up one hell of a fight, then ran off to Luskan with her."

"Then I will go after them," said Elanee.

"No, you'll only do more harm than good," said Duncan cryptically.

"SURPRISE!" shouted Grobnar as the door to the Flagon opened again. Fenton and Weasle merely looked at him and gestured for Sal to bring them drinks. Then they took their usual table in the corner of the tavern.

"By the Gods, Grobnar, will you stop doing that? It's enough to give a man a heart attack," said Duncan.

"Terribly sorry, but at least we now know that everybody who ever comes in the Flagon, is now inside it. Therefore, by default, the next person to walk in will be Kail with Shandra!"

"Or, you know, the city Watch, sent to investigate all the noise coming from inside here?" Neeshka suggested.

"No, no, that's just silly," said Grobnar. "The Watch didn't even stop by when a horde of raging githyanki stormed the building, kidnapped a citizen of Neverwinter, and began causing damage to an important city building!"

"How was that Skymirror thing?" she asked Elanee. Not that she cared, but responding to Grobnar usually made him talk _more_.

"I did not learn anything new," said Elanee. An evasive answer if ever she'd heard one.

"Oh look, the door's opening, they're back!" said Grobnar, grabbing the banner. "SURPRISE!!!!!"

Sand stopped dead in his tracks and observed the Gnome for a moment. Then he shook his head.

"Duncan, I hear a nasty rumour that you've been allowing your _valuable_ patrons to be kidnapped," said Sand.

"What do you want, Sand?" snapped Duncan. _Yes, definitely some tension there,_ thought Neeshka.

"Why, to offer my services, of course."

"Other than insulting the githyanki to death, what services can you offer?" said Duncan.

"I was thinking some type of _alarm_ spell. You know, something keyed to make a loud noise when a being of extra-planar origins touches your charming building. It wouldn't stop them from overwhelming you and making off with your customers, but it may at _least_ give you a little... warning."

"Wouldn't it just go off every time I opened the door?" she asked the wizard.

"Ah, no. Spells can be crafted to be specific, you see. By filtering out the human variable, it woud be quite possible to create an alarm that is a hundred percent pure planar specfic."

"Huh?" Why couldn't wizards talk in simple terms?

"He means that anyone with human heritage wouldn't set the alarm off," said Elanee.

"Quite correct," said Sand.

"And what would this 'service' cost me?" asked Duncan.

"Come now, Duncan, I'm sure there will be a time when _I_ require something from _you_. What is a favour, between two old friends?"

"Since when have we been friends, Sand?"

"Why, since your charming Harborman kin brought the mystery of her shards to my attention, of course. I heard that she went to see Aldanon, but I am surprised that she hasn't been back to see me since."

"Well, I'd appreciate anything you can do," said Duncan, "But Kail isn't here right now. It might be days before she's back."

"Just send her on over to me in her own time," smiled Sand. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I have a spell to create."

o - o - o - o - o

Kail trudged wearily down the street towards the Sunken Flagon. The people who were out and about were giving her _very_ strange looks. But that wasn't surprising. The trip back had taken longer than the trip out. Partially it was because everybody was tired from the pursuit, and partially it was because carrying a three hundred pound construct with a huge razor-sharp blade for an arm was tricky business.

At first they had tried carrying it as it was, but that soon proved futile. Then they had come up with the idea of tying the construct's arms and legs together, and running a pole through the middle. It worked, but it was slow going. They took it in shifts, Casavir and Shandra carrying it for a couple of hours, then she and Bishop for a couple of hours. Khelgar, happy that his small stature made it impossible for him to be paired with anyone for carrying duty, gladly lent the Gauntlets of Ironfist to be passed around when somebody needed a strength boost.

Now she and Bishop were carrying it the last leg of the journey, through the streets of Neverwinter. People stopped to stare open-mouthed at the sight.

"Get the door," she said to Khelgar through gritted teath as they arrived at the Flagon. The thing was _heavy_. He opened the door as wide as possible for them, and they dragged the construct through the entrance and placed it carefully on the floor of the tavern.

"SURPRI- Oh, dear Gods, is that a blade golem you've got there?!?" asked Grobnar, dropping a banner he'd been holding and rushing over to examine the construct.

"It's a souvenir for you," she told him, then moved into the room to let the others enter. The Flagon looked... surprisingly good, to say it had been the site of a githyanki fight only a few days earlier. Qara was cleaning tables, Neeshka and Elanee were making up a fire in the hearth, and Fenton and Weasle were back in their usual places. Sal waved to her from behind the bar, and she waved back.

"Hey, welcome back!" said her Uncle, giving her a big hug. "Glad to see you've all returned, and in one piece no less!"

"Good to see you as well," she told him.

"Alright, out with it -- what happened? Tell me the tales, the songs, the whole bit!"

"Uh, I could sing a few songs, if you were will-" began Grobnar.

"Quiet, you," said Duncan, then turned to Kail. "You were about to say?"

"I need to talk to you about this wound I received when I was a child," she said.

"Look, I... I don't know why you're asking again. Surely you've heard this before," he said, though she noticed he would not meet her eyes. "You were just a babe when West Harbor was attacked near the end of the war with the King of Shadows... you suffered that wound from a stray arrow or debris."

"It wasn't an arrow or debris. There is a shard lodged within me," she said firmly.

"Inside the wound on your chest? That means you've been carrying the shard around almost your entire life? I... we had no idea."

"Ah, notice the stumble in his words," said Bishop. "Your uncle has been keeping secrets, I think."

"Silence, Bishop," snapped Duncan. He took Kail by the arm and led her away from the others so that they could talk privately. "I don't know if I'm the best one to be telling you this, but if you've got one of those shards _in_ you, I think you've earned the right to hear everything."

"I want to hear the whole story," she said. Duncan nodded, then waved at Sal. Once the man had brought them each a tankard of ale, he sat at a table and gestured for her to join him.

"Daeghun probably already told you, but when you were an infant, West Harbor was the site of a battle, a terrible battle. The King of Shadows himself led an army of demons against the Neverwinter army, which had gathered at the village. West Harbor was struck suddenly, without warning. There was panic... confusion... villagers fleeing every which way to escape the battle. But Daeghun's wife Shayla... and your mother, Esmerelle, did not. They stayed behind to save you. As demons and magefire rained upon the village, they fought to reach your crib. By the time Daeghun even realised they were missing, it was too late. He could only watch from a distance as the village was consumed in the battle."

"But I was told my mother died giving birth to me," she said, feeling her world rock. After all this time... her mother had lived through her birth, had spent precious time with her, time that she now did not remember.

"It wasn't my decision to keep what happened to your mother from you... and my brother will be furious I told you. I guess he... he thought it would be too much for you. In any case, when the few that remained returned to the village, no one was alive. Except _you_. Your mother was there... so much blood and... you were clutched in her bosom, a deep wound in your chest. She'd tried to shield you, but..." Duncan's voice was thick with emotion, as if he was reliving that night over again. She realised that she didn't resent him for not telling the truth earlier. "The shard must have cut through her and into you," he continued. "No one knew how you survived. But you did, and your wound sealed itself within days, leaving the scar that you still bear." She touched the top of the scar with her fingertips. "But if that wound was due to the shard that pierced you, then that raises many questions... And I'm afraid I'm just all out of answers."

"I know it wasn't easy to share that with me. Thank you," she said.

"It's been with me for a long time... I'm glad I could finally speak of it," he replied.

"Why the long faces, you two?" called Bishop from across the room. "Somebody die? If so, sounds like a cause for celebration to me. Grobnar, you worthless half-man, strike up a tune... before I strike you."

"Of course, Sir Bishop," said Grobnar, reaching for his mandolin. "It so happens I have just the tune..."

"By the way," said Bishop, turning to her, "I've decided it would be in both our interests if I stay on with you."

"And why would you want to do that?" she asked him. It wasn't as if he had any friends amongst the group. As far as she knew, Neeshka and Grobnar were the only ones who wouldn't like to put something extremely sharp through his chest... Neeshka because she wasn't into killing unless she got something out of it, and Grobnar because it just wasn't in him.

"What? Does a man need a reason? Come now. Duncan's kind request was enough to start this, I think, why not finish it?"

"We don't need anymore of your help," said Casavir.

"Ah, why don't you let her speak for hersef, 'paladin', without you speaking for her, eh?"

"No, no. There's no need, Bishop. I'm sorry for before, but you've done more than..." started Duncan.

"Oh, come now, Duncan, I still _owe_ you. And what better way to make it up to you than watching your kin here? After all, a debt is a debt... all the way until the end. Isn't that right?"

"I hate to ask... but what happens now? I can't go back to my farm, ashes and all," said Shandra, speaking up for the first time since her rescue.

"I don't know," she said. "Maybe Duncan will take you in."

"Oh, she'll be in good hands here," said Bishop.

"Well, I'd be more than happy to offer the lass my hospitality, but don't you need her to unlock Ammon Jerro's Haven?" said Duncan.

"You're right," she replied. "You're welcome to travel with us if you'd like, Shandra."

"Well then," said Bishop, "as long as we simply _need_ her with us, and don't _want_ her, I'll drink to that." She had to resist the urge to throw something heavy and sharp at the ranger's head.

"Maybe you should watch your tongue, Bishop," said Casavir, glowering.

"And maybe you should _listen_ with your ears, paladin. Our 'leader' calls the shots, we just obey -- as will the fam girl in time."

"I really appreciate the sudden interest from the both of you," said Shandra, with more sarcasm than Kail thought the woman could muster, "but I can take care of myself. Besides, whenever I'm alone, that's when the problems seem to crop up."

"If she's going to be with us, she'll need to do some catching up," said Khelgar. "We can't just keep on rescuing her all the time."

"Rescuing me? I can rescue myself! Sometimes... when there's not too many lizardmen. Or githyanki."

"Khelgar has a point," she told the other woman. "We need to train you so you'll be able to defend yourself."

"Well... I know enough from making merchant runs to use a sword and I can handle myself in a fight. I mean, I'm no spellcaster, but if you need an extra blade... I admit, you've rescued me twice now, and if you're going to help teach me to survive these attacks, I accept. But there's some things you're going to have to accept, too. I don't like being left behind. Because whenever you're out of my sight, suddenly all this trouble starts happening, and I'm _really_ tired of it. So... look, I won't try to get in your way or anything, but I don't want us to part ways again. I've... I've, well, lost too much already. You're not leaving me behind. Alright?"

"I didn't mean for anything to happen to you or your home," she replied. "If I can make it up to you, I will."

"Then that's all I asked," said Shandra.

"So the farm girl's going to join our band?" asked Bishop. "Good. We need someone to make up for the paladin... or at least to catch arrows if Grobnar's already dead. For now, I say we crack some of those kegs and drown the Flagon in wine."

"You all have a drink," Kail told everyone. "I need to take a walk."

"But lass, there's a storm brewing! Surely you saw the clouds on your way into Neverwinter?" said Duncan.

"I'll be fine," she assured him. "I just need to get some air, clear my head, get my thoughts around a few things." Duncan nodded, but he still looked worried. She left her friends to her drinking, and stepped into the street.

o - o - o - o - o

Her thoughts were racing as she paced up and down in front of the Flagon. More that anything else, she wanted to be alone. She had no real desire to walk any further today.

Why had Daeghun lied to her? And after everything that had happened, after the way her mother had died, after the githyanki attack on her home only weeks ago... the man she had called 'father' all of her life had sent her off to Neverwinter carrying one shard in her pocket and another in her chest. Why hadn't he told her about the risk before she left? Did he think that if she knew the truth, she wouldn't go?

Would she? Yes, if it had meant taking what the attackers sought away from West Harbor. But she would not have come here, to Neverwinter. She would have taken the shards far, far away. To Rasheman, or Kara-Tur, or the Anauroch, where nobody would be able to find her. Where the name 'King of Shadows' was nothing more than a whisper on the wind. Overhead, the sky turned black and a low rumble grew louder and louder, until the windows of the tavern shook. She ignored it.

Because of everything that had happened, she had been hunted, and she would continue to be hunted, by a foe who, according to Zeeaire, had existed for millennia. The King of Shadows would stop at nothing to rip the shard from her chest, ending her life before it had barely begun. Her head began to throb as another wave of thunder rolled over the city.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to come here, drop the shards off, and return home. She was supposed to live a simple, easy life. She wasn't supposed to have responsibilities, she wasn't supposed to have people who _needed_ her to exist in order to survive. And not just Shandra, but everyone in and around the Mere, in Neverwinter, maybe even in Luskan... if Zeeaire could be believed, then the fate of everybody rested solely in her hands. And she didn't want that. Nobody was supposed to be reliant on her.

Heavy raindrops began to spatter on the street, and they quickly turned into a downpour. Kail slumped to the ground and stared into air, ignoring the way the rain drenched her, the way the wind and the rain froze her to the bone. And, from somewhere deep inside, somewhere that she tried to keep hidden, came another voice.

_Aww, poor little bard. Is the world too big for her? Maybe she should go running back home with her tail between her legs. 'Boo hoo, I have a shard in my chest and everyone wants to kill me. Whine whine'. Who are you... Qara? Why are you wallowing in self-pity like some pathetic dog? Would Lucas complain about this? Would Daeghun? Would Bevil?_

_You want to run away? Poor little starling wants to fly off where nobody can find her. Stick her head in the sand and hope everything will go away. Will that make you safe, little starling? Hells no. It would make you stupid. Do you want to be that? Did your friends in West Harbor run when the githyanki attacked? 'Be true to yourself', Shaundakul said. And here you are, whining that you don't know who you are. But you're forgetting that you know who you're NOT, and you're NOT somebody who complains and runs away because the going got a little tough._

_Do you think somebody is going to come along and say 'Hey, forget about everything. Take a day off. I'll deal with this whole King of Shadows problem for you'? Like Hells they are. You may not have put yourself here, but it's where you are. Deal with it. So fate spat in your eye. Spit back. So you might die because of this shard, because of the unholy legions hunting you. So what? Are you going to let them kill you like a cowering dog? No, you're going to go out kicking and screaming and fighting, and you're going to take as many down with you as possible. Your name will be the curse on their dying lips. You will make them scream and beg, and wish that they had never heard of the Kalach-Cha._

_Now stop whining that nobody understands you, that life is tough, that you're all alone. You're not alone. You have friends in that tavern who care about you, even if they don't understand you. Maybe even because of it. And the ones that don't actally care about you at least care about seeing the King of Shadows stopped. That makes them useful, so use them. Now you get back in there and you start acting less like a cowering dog, and more like what you are; a Harborman._

The voice inside her seemed to make her blood run like fire. It made her head feel light, as if she could float. She stood up as the rain lashed around her. She took the storm and she made it hers. The rain was painful and the cold bit her deep, but she was alive. She had been challenged, she had fought, and she had survived. Whatever happened next could only make her stronger, more alive. Nothing, _nothing_, that they could throw at her would break her.

"IS THAT THE BEST THAT YOU CAN DO?" she screamed at the sky, to the storm, to the Gods, or anyone else who was listening.

_Well, there you have it, Kail. That was the sort of speech that only comes along once in a lifetime. The sort of speech that rips through the soul of every disheartened soldier. The hammer that forges the sword of bravery on the anvil of truimph. And you were the only one who heard it._

_Figures._


	36. Have you ever been there?

_36. Have you ever been there?_

Shandra took a deep draught of her ale as she let Grobnar's incessant chatter pass over her head. For the first time in what felt like weeks she was warm, well fed, and in decent company. Well, semi-decent. She was trying to ignore the haughty sorceress and the skulking ranger. The others seemed alright, though she had caught the Tiefling shooting speculative looks at her pockets. Well, if the thief thought she'd find anything in them she was sadly mistaken. Shandra Jerro was now poorer than a dirt-farmer.

The front door flew open, and into the bright glow of the tavern stepped a tall, broad-shouldered man. He gave the room a brief survey, nodded slightly to himself, then closed the door against the blustery wind.

"I'm looking for Kail Farlong," he announced in a voice that sounded like warm honey. She wasn't sure what that meant exactly, but it sounded suitably poetic enough for the man.

"Ah, Sir Nevalle." Shandra quirked an eyebrow at Duncan's words. _Sir_ Nevalle? In the _Docks_? Looking for _Kail_? "My niece is in the bath at the moment. I'm afraid she had a bit of a soaking in the rain earlier, and I didn't want her catching her death... Shandra lass, run and tell Kail that she has a guest."

She gave Duncan a smile -- she liked Kail's uncle -- and slipped off the bar stool, ducking around the doorway to the back rooms. She had already familiarised herself with the layout of the tavern in case she needed to make a hasty escape from any more would-be captors.

She stopped outside the bathing room door and rapped three times. There was a muffled sound of splashing water, and then a moment of silence.

"Yes? What is it?" came Kail's voice at last.

"Your uncle sent me to tell you that there's a man out here to see you," she replied. Again a moment of silence.

"Is he floating about four inches off the ground?"

"Err... no." What in the hells?!? She'd suspected that Kail was crazy, and now she had the proof. Had she always been like this? She'd seemed quite sane the first time they met. Maybe she'd caught hypothermia whilst raving at the Gods outside in the rain. Was the poor woman delusional?

"Then I don't want to see him."

"But he's..."

"I have my fingers in my ears and I can't hear you. La la la la la la......."

Shandra quickly hurried away from the door, the 'la's growing fainter as she made her way back to the common room.

"She... err... asked if you were floating four inches off the ground," she told Nevalle. He blinked. Once. Other than that, his face did not alter in the slightest. "And when I said 'no', she said she didn't want to see you."

"Did you tell her that it's Sir Nevalle?" asked Duncan.

"Ah... no. I tried to. But she..." she hesitated. Everybody in the common room was staring at her, even Grobnar. The Gnome's expression was surprisingly intense. "She said 'I have my fingers in my ears and I can't hear you... err... La la la'."

"Tsk, she was probably just working on a song," said Duncan. He gave her a dismissive wave of his hand; but his eyes told otherwise. "You know how bards get when they're composing."

"Why certainly," piped up Grobnar. "I remember this one time I was composing a song about the three-winged vermilion beetle of..."

"Quiet, you," Duncan ordered the Gnome, then turned again to the knight. "Why don't you take a seat, Sir Nevalle? I'll get you a warm drink of something. I'm sure my niece won't be too long."

"Don't count on it," she heard Neeshka whisper to Elanee. "She has a good supply of hot water in there. She could be _hours_." The Elf nodded in agreement. Sir Nevalle sighed and took a seat near the fire. Surprisingly, he shot a disapproving glance at Casavir, though the paladin was affecting to ignore the knight. Shandra sighed too, and returned to her ale. She had a feeling that life wasn't about to get any quieter.

o - o - o - o - o

Neeshka padded across the floor again, ghosting past Nevalle as she did so. He had glanced at her curiously the first few times she did it, but now he paid her no attention at all. He alternated between glowering at his drink and glowering at Casavir. It was pretty funny, because Casavir was completely ignoring him.

She placed Elanee's empty tankard on the bar and returned to their table the long way around, brushing ever so slightly against the knight as she passed. He didn't even blink, and she smiled as she sank into the chair opposite the Elf and the Dwarf. Nobles were easy pickings. They had slow reflexes, and their brains didn't usually kick in until after you were long gone with their coin. Two more trips, perhaps three, and Nevalle would be so used to her brushing past him that he wouldn't notice her fingers gently pluck at his pockets...

Khelgar nudged her, interrupting her train of thoughts, and she shot him a dark glare. He merely tossed his head slightly behind her, and she turned to see Duncan's eyes on her back. She schooled her face to innocence as she stood and crossed the floor to the bar.

"Go and see what's keeping her," whispered Duncan, glancing at Nevalle. She couldn't blame him for being worried. It wasn't really smart to keep a knight waiting long, _especially_ not one of the Nine. And worse, from Duncan's point of view, Nevalle was killing the mood. Nobody in the Docks wanted a knight in their tavern. Knights were no fun. They were stuffy and judgemental -- although, she had to admit, Sir Darmon had been an exception. The way he had watched Kail would probably be considered quite scandalous amongst knights -- and unless they were bringing easily liftable coin purses, they should stay in their own snooty corner of the city.

She stepped out of the room with a flick of her tail, and made her way down the somewhat darker corridor. _Step here, step there, avoid the third squeaky floorboard_... it always paid to know which parts of a building creaked and moaned when you stepped on them. You could hardly steal from somebody if you were heard making a get-away.

Pressing her ear to the door she closed her eyes, straining her hearing. Nothing. No splashing water, no singing, no talking to herself... that was a good sign, at least. Though maybe she'd fallen asleep in the bath. It would be a true shame if Kail had come all this way only to drown in her sleep. Carefully, quietly, she removed a pick from her sleeve. The locks in the tavern were easy as pie. It wasn't even a challenge.

_Click_

She smiled as she replaced her pick, then stood up and turned the handle. It was well-oiled, and didn't squeak. As she turned it she pressed her weight against the door and... nothing. With a sigh of defeat she turned away from the door and tiptoed back to the common room.

"Well, the lock wasn't a problem, but it's bolted from the inside," she announced cheerfully. Nevalle and Casavir shot her dark looks. Well, what did they expect? She _was_ a thief. Kail understood that. And, for now, the bard would have her own way. The bolts that Duncan had put on the doors in the Flagon could not be opened from the outside.

She knew that from experience.

o - o - o - o - o

Bishop downed the last of his ale, slamming the empty tankard on the table. Her Royal Highness, the Princess Qara, jumped up from her seat at the bar to fetch him another. He had to admit, Duncan finally had the little fire-starter half tamed. Half-tamed sorceress under one thumb, half-tamed ranger under the other. Yeah, Duncan was doing alright for himself. If he was going to start a collection of people to blackmail, he'd soon need to grow more hands.

He felt his lips curl into a snarl, the hackles on his back rise... no, not his. Karnwyr. He raised his eyes to see Nevalle staring at him, and met the knight's condescending gaze with a sneer. Nevalle's eyes moved away from him, briefly examining everybody else in the room. Funny, how the knight and the paladin ignored each other. Woulda thought the two of them to have a lot in common. The stink of righteousness, the condescending holier-than-thou attitudes, the sticks up their...

The Tiefling brushed past Nevalle again. She had her work cut out for her. He was willing to bet that Nevalle wasn't as oblivious as he looked. It would be interesting to see how this one played out.

He wrinkled his nose at the ale in his glass. It didn't smell right. He was sure Her Highness had done something to it. Not every tankard, but enough of them. Instead of drinking it he pushed it to the far side of the table. What was taking the blasted bard so long? So she'd stood outside for an hour in the freezing rain, ranting at the gods. The look in her eyes when she re-entered the Flagon had been uplifting -- that same 'go on, I dare _one_ of you to say something' look that she used whenever she was pissed off -- but that was no reason to hog the bath for hours.

With a deep sigh, he stood. Amusing as it was to see her keep the knight waiting, it was time to end this. The paladin was bad enough. Two of them was almost unbearable. He left the common room and stomped down the corridor. He was in a stomping kind of mood. He stopped outside the bathroom door, tilting his head slightly as he looked at it. He had to hand it to Duncan; the man knew a good locksmith. After the farm-girl was taken by the Gith he'd had bolts put on every door in the Flagon. It was just too bad he'd skimped on the door-maker when the tavern was rebuilt all those years ago after the war with Luskan. Thick iron bolts on doors hinged with string. He located the narrow dark shadows at the hinge edge of the door, lifted his booted foot, and kicked.

_Bang_

The hinges ripped from the frame, screws and all. He pushed the door slightly and it succumbed to gravity, falling sideways to the floor with a terrific crash. _Duncan, you fool..._

Steam rushed out of the room, flowing into the corridor as a thick fog that almost had mass. She really _had_ been heating water for hours. He narrowed his eyes as the mist cleared. She lay submerged in the bath at the far side of the room, only her head and the top of her shoulders visible over the rim. Her eyes opened slowly and she gave him a languid smile.

"You have style, I'll give you that. More than Neeshka, anyway. Did she really think she could open it?"

"There is a jumped-up knight waiting to see you in the common room, and I won't be able to enjoy my drink until you get out here and tell him to shove off," he half-growled.

"Poor thing," she said, with a complete lack of sympathy. Typical. Spend your days risking your life, leading her on a merry chase to rescue some farm-girl from a horde of fanatical githyanki, and you couldn't even get a shred of sympathy over missed ale. She sighed, her eyes flickering to something at the side of the fallen door. "Towel."

In the mist he made out the shape of a folded towel sat beside two piles of clothes; one dripping wet and probably colder than ice, the other dry and neatly folded. He picked up the towel and took a step forward.

"Throw it," she said. He grinned, but threw it to the floor by the bath. "Leave." He couldn't resist giving a mock bow as he backed out of the room, flourishing an imaginary cape. He'd seen her do the same to that city Watch Captain she'd been forced to obey. He stepped out of the doorway and leant back against the wall, straining his ears for sound from the room. "I don't hear footsteps," she called.

With a smile, he walked down the corridor and into the common room, taking his glass from the table. He poured the contents into the fire, which flared as the alcohol burnt. Then he sat, slamming the empty tankard on the table, and Princess Qara jumped to obey.

o - o - o - o - o

How long had she been in the bath? She had no idea. It could have been ten minutes, it could have been ten hours. Though, she suspected, it was probably more like three. She felt... good. Warm. Strong. The freezing cold rain had been just what she needed. _When the cold cuts you to the bone, when the wind sears your skin, when the hail stings like fire... that's when you know you're alive._

Good old Lucas. He had the right of it. There was nothing like standing around in the freezing rain and challenging the Gods to make you feel alive. _I'm alive_. It didn't matter what they did to her. If they caught up with her tomorrow and tore their damned shard from her chest, it wouldn't matter. Right here, right now, tonight, she was alive.

And, apparently, she had a knight asking after her. She smiled as she pulled her shirt over her head, but left it unlaced. She hastily tucked it into her trousers, aware that she probably looked like a half-drowned dock-rat, then quickly ran the towel over her hair. Not enough to dry it, but enough to take some of the moisture out of it. Wet hair, dry hair, didn't matter.

She ghosted down the corridor, the creaky floorboards cold beneath her bare feet. It didn't matter if she got dirty; she could just get back in the bath. Though, of course, she'd have to do something about the gaping hole where the door used to be. Trust Bishop to kick it down, just to tell her to come and get rid of a knight in the common room. Why he didn't get rid of the knight himself she had no idea.

Every head swivelled towards her as she entered. _Ah, a grand audience_, she thought. If only she had her flute, she could have played a tune. Something jovial. Merry, even. A smile played across her lips as she walked to the bar, shooting Duncan a questioning glance. He nodded at a man by the fire who stood when she laid eyes on him. Hmm. Not who she had been expecting.

"Kail Farlong?" he asked. Chiselled features, commanding voice, shiny boots... he looked every inch the nobleman.

"Yes. And who might you be?" she asked.

"He is Sir Nevalle, one of the Nine," said Duncan behind her. The smile on her lips grew a little. Ah, the Nine. Not the first she'd met. Darmon, of course, she had encountered when Brelaina sent her to raid a warehouse bordering on the Back Alley. And Callum she had met at Old Owl Well. Surprisingly decent folks, for knights.

"And how can I help you today, Sir Nevalle?" she asked him. He glanced around the room at her companions, his gaze lingering on Casavir. Not completely unexpected. Callum had been surprised to see Casavir too, though they greeted each other like friends. What Darmon thought of Casavir she did not know; the raid on the warehouse had been before Old Owl Well.

"Is there somewhere private where we might talk?" he asked. She smiled at him and slid onto a bar stool, lounging back to rest her elbows against the bar.

"Unless you've come to proposition me, Sir Nevalle, anything you have to say to me can be said in front of my family, my friends, and the miscreants who frequent this tavern." She heard Casavir, at the far end of the bar, give a strangled choke, but she ignored him. It had been too long since she put on any sort of performance, and she was not going to waste this chance to improve her skills. As Nevalle subjected her to a penetrating stare, she quickly glanced around her companions, judging their reactions.

Casavir, of course, looked as mortified as she expected. Shandra, new to the group, was gawking at Nevalle. If she didn't shut her mouth, something might fly in it. Grobnar was fiddling with a small crossbow on the bar, but she wasn't fooled. The Gnome often heard things others didn't hear, saw things others didn't see. Lurking in the shadows was Bishop, a smug grin on his face. Of course, he would love seeing a knight taken down a peg or two. The Lady of the Tankards stood propping up a wall, thankfully silent for once. Khelgar, Neeshka and Elanee, the three who had been with her the longest, were sharing knowing glances. Of course, they realised this was a performance. They knew her, or more of the _real_ her, than any of the others.

"Very well," said Nevalle at last. "Have you heard of a village named Ember?"

"Tiny hamlet in Luskan territory near the border with Neverwinter. Population a few dozen chickens, considerably fewer sheep, and a handful of people," she said, meeting his eyes. Coincidence? Surely not. Why was he staring at her so intently? It was almost as if he was... looking... for something within her eyes.

"Have you ever been to Ember?"

"Yes," she said.

"Recently?"

"Yes."

"How recently?"

She hesitated. She tended to lose track of time quite easily. They had been travelling erratically, not following diurnal sleeping patterns. They'd walked when Bishop told them to walk, run when he'd told them to run, and divided their time between tracking the gith and avoiding Luskan Scouts. She shrugged.

"A few days. Less than a week." From the corner of her eye she saw Casavir nod. She trusted his judgement.

"And do you know that the entire village has been slaughtered?" he asked her.

The world rocked. A steadying hand pressed against her shoulder; Duncan was propping her forward. She brushed off his touch and sat up on the stool, pinning Nevalle in place with her gaze, _searching_ his face for a sign that he was lying, joking, playing games with her mind... but no. Knights didn't lie. They probably weren't capable of it. Lying was probably punishable by instant-smiting from any God in the vicinity.

"What... when.... who...?" she managed to stammer. _Oh yeah, real articulate, Kail. Way to make an impression on the __**knight**_.

"Luskan are accusing _you_ of the slaughter, and they're demanding that we turn you over to them for 'justice'," said Nevalle. He watched her face for a moment, then sighed. "Look, I've scraped things off my boot that I respect more than Luskan, but without proof of your innocence we don't have a foot to stand on."

"So you're going to hand me over to Luskan? For justice? _Low_ justice? In _Luskan_?" she asked in disbelief. _Greed can corrupt every man, and justice will only protect you for so long. Stay true to yourself._ Shaundakul's words, so cryptic when he had spoken them, came back to haunt her.

"I'm not about to hand a loyal member of the Watch over to Luskan." She heard Bishop snort in amusement at 'loyal member of the Watch'. "As a noble, you would not be subject to low justice in Luskan; your trial would take place here, in our own courts." She nodded as Nevalle spoke. It made sense. But she wasn't a noble. "I need you to go to Captain Brelaina, and to pledge yourself as a squire to one of our knights."

_Her!? A squire!?_ Had the world turned itself upside down while she had been in the bath?

"I may also send a... friend... to advise you on these matters. Once you have spoken to Captain Brelaina and Sir Grayson, you will need to speak to Lord Nasher. Until then, do not try to leave the city. The gates are barred to you." She nodded, and he turned towards the door.

"Nevalle," she called after him. He stopped with the door ajar and looked back at her. "Thank you," she said. Then, because she wanted to finish her performance, she allowed a smile to creep across her face. "And give my regards to Darmon."

"I will tell _Sir_ Darmon that you send your greetings," he said pointedly, then closed the door behind him.

The common room immediately broke out in a furore. Shandra was on her feet, her hands opening and closing as if she wanted to strangle somebody. Casavir spoke quietly to her; of course, she had friends in Ember. It was only right that she be upset, only right that he should try to calm her.

"...besides, the slaughter of an entire _village?!_ That's going too far, even by _Luskan_ standards!" Neeshka exclaimed.

"Is it?" Bishop was leaning back in his seat, both feet up on a table. "If there is something Luskan wants, they will stop at nothing to get it..." She let him speak without listening, something about the war with Neverwinter, and Ruathym. All around her people were talking, but she did not hear their voices. Ember. Slaughtered. Her.

Elanee was giving her a deep, sympathetic look from the table. Khelgar was grumbling loudly, like a brewing thunderstorm. Grobnar was feigning dogged interest in his crossbow, though his small face had taken on a sad cast. Qara moved around the room, ferrying empty tankards, replacing them with new ones. Kail slipped from the bar stool, the floor cold beneath her bare feet.

"Where are you going?" Duncan called as she crossed the floor to the door which led to the back rooms.

"To finish my bath, and to think. Let me know when Nevalle's 'friend' gets here." She stopped by the door for a moment and cocked her head as if listening to a voice only she could hear. "Send anybody but the ranger."

Then she stepped into the steam-filled corridor, and in the room behind her, only the ranger grinned.

o - o - o - o - o

Kail was turning identification by footsteps into an artform. Those coming down the corridor now were soft; it couldn't be Neeshka, because she would not have heard anything at all, had the thief been approaching. It couldn't be Grobnar, because he always hummed when he walked. It had to be Elanee. Everybody else was too heavy to be so quiet. And, sure enough, the Elf appeared around the door, her hands folded behind her back.

"I've been thinking about a lot of things, on my way back to Neverwinter," she told Elanee. "For example, Elder Naevan knew that I was 'carrying' a shard, before you had even told him about me digging up the one that Daeghun hid. At first, I thought maybe it was intuition on his behalf, or maybe that talking to animals thing that you people do. Who knows what the birds and the beasts see? But the more I think about it, the more I realise that, all along, you and your people have known that I have a silver sword shard inside my chest. What I am trying to figure out now, is why you didn't tell me about it. Why you feigned ignorance when I first showed you the shard, on the Double Eagle. And because I'm an understanding person, I'm going to give you a chance to explain."

"Following the battle with the King of Shadows at West Harbor," said Elanee, as if she had been expecting to be asked just this question, "my Circle realised that a shard had been lodged inside your body. They were afraid, for the battle was devastating, both to the land and the people. They wanted to be sure that you would suffer no ill effects from having the shard inside you. And so I was set to watch you. That is the task to which Elder Naevan referred, and it is the reason why I have not been back to my Circle for such a long time."

"You could have told me," she replied, stepping out of the bath and drying herself for the second time with the towel.

"Yes, I could. But I did not. I hoped that it would not come to that, that the githyanki would give up and leave, or that you would leave the shards with Aldanon, freeing yourself of them."

"This shard inside me..." she began. It was not an easy thing to ask. "Is it the source of my... my... power. My abilities. Is it why I have problems?"

"No," said Elanee with a smile. "The shard may have some small power of its own, but not enough to influence you, to change you. The power you possess is your own, it is inside you, has been with you since the moment you were conceived. It is in your blood and your bones, and were the shard to be removed from your chest and your wounds healed, you would still be the same person that you are now."

"It may be a long time before I will be able to trust you again," she said.

"I know," said Elanee. "I would expect nothing less."

"Good. Then tell me about your trip to Skymirror." She pulled on her clothes and ran a comb through her hair as Elanee began talking.

"There is little to tell. I travelled to the Skymirror, I performed the tests, I put the offering onto the water, but the Skymirror was silent. I believe that there is nobody left to hear it. Whether they chose to ignore it, or whether they cannot hear because of the taint spreading through the land, or whether it is because they are all dead..."

"We'll find out," she replied, screwing her eyes shut for a moment. Why did headaches strike at the worst moments? "One thing at a time. Is Nevalle's 'friend' here?"

"Yes, I was sent to tell you. It is Sand."

"_Really? _Well I certainly wasn't expecting that! I guess I'd better come and see what he has to say."

o - o - o - o - o

The conversation was already underway as she returned to the common room.

"Oh, _really_," her Uncle was saying, "And what's the price? If it's more than a half-copper, you can see yourself out."

"No, I... seem to have been given an ultimatum, in fact," replied Sand hesitantly. "I have heard of your... troubles with Luskan."

Word travels fast," said Sal from behind the bar. Sand turned to her.

"Know that if you are sent to Luskan, you will be killed."

"Tell me something I don't know," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I realise you may find my sincerity difficult to believe, but allow me to act on your behalf," said Sand. "There are laws, and there is right and wrong. While I believe that you are quick to take liberties with the law, I do not believe that you are guity of this... and if they should get a hold of you, you will be killed. I believe that people should answer for their crimes, but it must be just."

"Very well, what's the next step?" she asked, sliding onto a bar stool.

"Sure, after all, a hedge wizard can't many things any worse. Maybe all that digging through books might prove useful," sniped Qara.

"If we need to burn down Luskan, then perhaps we shall see you, Qara," said Sand. "but your ignornce will cause more damage here than you know. Luskan is not ruled by men, it is ruled by magic, by the masters of the towers. And if they have decided that you are to be delivered to them, then-"

"So? Let them try!" replied Qara.

"Whatever spark of magic you think you have, you idiot _girl_, they will bleed from you by demon, spell, and curse, until even your father won't be able to save you," said Sand. "And I suspect that what they seek may have consequences beyond you, beyond me -- for much of the realms."

"So what do you suggest?" she asked Sand before Qara could get in another comment.

"Fortunately, becoming a squire is enough for our needs. And I believe you have already been told about someone who can help you... Sir Grayson, yes? Let me join with you. I have considerable experience with these matters, and foiling Luskan plots is something I relish." He seemed pretty sincere.

"Alright, welcome to the group. Let me go and fetch my gear, and we will seek out Sir Grayson together," she replied.


	37. Vigil

_37. Vigil_

"I had not thought that I'd be seeing you again so soon, lieutenant," said Captain Brelaina, when Kail and her companions entered the Watch House the next day. "I only wished that it was under better circumstances."

"So do I," she said wryly. The Captain nodded towards the man who was stood beside her desk. "This is Sir Grayson Corett. It is with he whom you must speak."

"Blessings of Tyr be upon you, Kail Farlong," said Sir Grayson. He was resplendent in white and blue armour that had been polished until it shone, and his blue cloak swaying behind him was spotless. His boots were clean and shining, and there was not a hair out of place on his head. She wondered if knights spent hours preparing themselves before leaving their houses, or whether they just had somebody to do all the work for them. "Sir Nevalle has told me of your predicament, and it so happens that I have need of a squire," he continued. "This is... _unusual_, to say the least. Ususally, prospective squires spend months, even years, proving themselves before they are permitted to enter the nobility. But Captain Brelaina and Sir Nevalle both vouch for your character and your ability. And I have heard of your exploits in the city, as well. Still, count yourself lucky to avoid years of caring for my horse and scouring the rust from my arms and armour. Your need is great, so I'll take you as my charge."

"And that's it? I'm a squire?" she asked. It didn't seem very... noble. Or holy.

"Not quite so simple as that, but years of service will be passed over in your case. I am sir Grayson Corett. My sword is sworn to Nasher, Neverwinter and Tyr. And it falls to me to teach you chivalry, so that you will not dishonour me overmuch as your knight." She heard Neeshka snickering in the background. The Tiefling wasn't really helping her case.

"What do you want to teach me?" she asked.

"The brotherhood of knights is one bound by the ideals of chivalry and honour. And the same goes for sisters, of course. Without honour, a knight is nothing more than an animal with a sword." _Does that mean anybody who isn't a knight, is an animal?_ she wondered. "To be a knight is to lead a life of duty and responsibility. We are bound by a code that prescribes our every action." _Uh-oh,_ she thought. _Here it comes._ "'To be brave and valorous in battle against your enemies. To show no fear in their presence. To be just and righteous, to embody and uphold the laws of your lord and land. To be respectful to your enemies," _What???_ "and kind to your fellows. To protect the weak and those who cannot defend themselves.' All squires have these rules impressed upon them, by rote and lash. But I suspect that you are mature enough to take the lesson without the cuffing." _And how is cuffing your squires 'being kind to your fellows'?_ she wondered. Knights, it seemed, were full of it.

"Words are words. I will consider them," she said.

"Knowing the code of conduct is important for a knight or squire, but living by that code is paramount," he said. She suspected that he wasn't even listening to her, just giving her the 'welcome to the flock' routine so that he could listen to the sound of his own voice. "To be a knight is also to live a life of service to your lord and realm. You will be expected to perform certain duties for the crown. Given your unique circumstance, these duties will be waiting for you after the trial. However, there is one observance that cannot be postponed... the vigil."

"What's that all about?" she asked.

"Your vigil is a time for reflection and contemplation. It is a sacred tradition. All who would become squires spend a night in the Solace Glade. You must spend the night alone, of course. Most choose to reflect on their vows, or to ask the blessing of their Gods. On the next morning, I will welcome you into our brotherhood. If there are items you wish to bring with you, you must fetch them now. We must depart immediately for Solace Glade."

"I'm ready to go now," she told him. "I already have everything I need."

"Your efficiency pleases me," he said with a smile. "Very well, I shall fetch my horse from the Watch stables, and you shall meet me in front of the building. Your friends cannot come with you, however. They must return to their homes and await your return."

"So, wildcat," said Bishop once Sir Grayson had left. "What say I sneak into Solace Glade when Sir Stuffalot leaves, and keep you company through the night? I'm sure we could find _something_ to do."

"You shall do no such thing, Bishop," said Casavir. "The vigil is an important ritual in becoming a squire. To even suggest using the time for anything other than introspection and prayer demeans the entire process."

"Well yes, that was the idea, paladin," said Bishop. "I don't think the Gods would deny _anybody_ a little fun before they're about to be trialed for murder."

"Lass, ye better get going," said Khelgar.

"I know. I'll see you all tomorrow, okay?" she said. "Try not to get into too much trouble without me."

"Trouble is my middle name," grinned Neeshka.

"Do not worry, we shall clear your name," said Elanee.

"I'll save ye a tankard of Duncan's finest," added Khelgar.

"Trust me, after a couple of hours in _Boredom Glade_ you'll be _begging_ me to come and keep you company," said Bishop.

"I'll try not to burn your room to charcoal while you're gone," said Qara.

"Try not to worry about your forthcoming duties," said Casavir. "They will not ask anything that is beyond your capabilities."

"Remember to make lots and lots of notes. I want to know about _everything_ that happens," said Grobnar. "Especially if you actually _do_ end up talking to Tyr, or any of the other Gods. Well, maybe not Talos, I can't imagine he'd be much fun to have at a party, what with all the smiting and the drowning of innocents and all."

"Just take care," said Shandra.

"Worry not," said Sand with a smile. "I shall take care of everything while you are away. Now, off with you. We don't want to keep Sir Grayson waiting, now do we?"

o - o - o - o - o

The wolf sniffed the air, the tang of blood tickling his nose. The glade was thick with it; flowing along the ground, winding its scent through the atmosphere. He turned his lupine eyes to the scene in front of him. A single lone figure moved in the clearing beneath the tree line. Wolf eyes were sharper than human eyes, and he had seen it all...

...The knight had left her after sun-down, ridden off on his delicious-smelling steed. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't properly eaten in almost a day. He hadn't been hungry, up to now.

The girl had sharp senses, he would give her that. Wolf ears picked up the sounds of movement first, but it didn't take long for her ears to come up too. Her head tilted and turned as she strained her hearing, listening for what approached. She stood with her hands at her daggers, the muscles in her body deceptively relaxed. Her face was impassive; it usually was. But here he had the edge. He could _smell_ the fear rolling from her. Could smell the adrenaline, the excitement, the dread, the curiosity.

He took another sniff of the air, his wolfish brain trying to make sense of what he received from her. Sniff. No. She hadn't been expecting this. There was too much fear, too much adrenaline. If she had been expecting company, she would have smelled more of anticipation, of impatience. But here she was, frail little human, smelling of fear.

No. Not frail. As cold and hard as iron. But iron was brittle. Was she? Hit enough, would she shatter? He suspected not. Oh, she bent, sometimes she neared breaking point, and just when it seemed like she was finally going to snap... she sprang back, stronger than ever. The fire-haired sorceress thought she herself had power. She had a little, maybe. Enough to worry the wizard. But compared to the little woman in the clearing, she was nothing. He could still remember her scream, a night ago now; _Is that the best you can do?_ She challenged the gods themselves to throw everything at her. She revelled in the fight, in the hunt, the taste of the kill, the sheer, overwhelming, blissful joy that came with _knowing_ that you were alive...

And yet for all that, she was still a frail thing. A hurricane trapped inside a body of flesh and bones. What would happen when she died? Would that hurricane come rushing out of her, consuming everything in its path? Would it take him? Did the others see it too? Probably not. The wizard saw nothing but the sorceress. The druid saw nothing but her precious land. The Dwarf saw nothing beyond the next fight. The Tiefling saw nothing but the next mark. The paladin... the paladin might be a problem. Easily rectified, with the right tools. Though _she_ might not like it if he killed the paladin before she was done with him.

He snarled. What did he care what a female thought? _No_, the wolf told him. _The wolves have a name for she who revels in the fight, in the hunt, in the taste of the kill, in the sheer, overwhelming, blissful joy that comes with knowing that you are alive... _What name?

_Alpha._

A rumble arose in his throat. What gave _her_ the right...

_Watch her. See how she puts the pack in its place with a single glance, a single growl. See how she keeps them together, even though they fight to tear each other apart. Listen to the song she howls at the moon, which tells others where she is. Hear the threat she makes to those who threaten her pack; I will tear your throat out. Watch her._

So he watched. She was still tense, still taught. A figure moved through the trees towards her. He sniffed. Human. Female. The strange one. She tried to be _Alpha_, but she was not. But she hadn't been relegated to _Omega_. She had a name, though. Shandra Jerro. And she talked now, yapping at _Alpha_. Like a pup. Yap yap yap.

The wind shifted... _his lips pulled into a snarl, his eyes glistening murder, every hair on his body stood on end. He tried to move, tried to stand. He would tear out their throats! Rip open their bellies, pull out their innards!_ No. Watch. The wolf blinked, and, for an instant, forgot who he was.

The three men were walking towards the two females, their fangs bared. No, not fangs. Weapons. Swords. Three against two. Unfair. He could even the odds... but then they would know he was here. Besides, much as he wanted to join in the kill, to see the men scream, another part of him wanted to watch this impassively, wanted to watch what the females would do. Wanted to watch what _she_ would do.

The men growled. There were words, but they were meaningless. Shandra yapped at them, a puppy defending an adult. _Alpha_ pulled back her lips and snarled, challenging them to attack. And attack they did. Hack, slash, bite, circle, repeat. It was a fight, a dance, beneath the moonless sky. Blood was shed from both sides, but the females fought well together. They both bled, but the floor of the glade held three corpses, not two.

Shandra picked something from one of the corpses, pulled a face of disgust and handed the item to _Alpha_, rubbing her hands on her trousers. _She_ merely looked at it, and even from here he could smell the blood soaking it. She didn't even grimace. A cold, hard woman. Part of him that wasn't him, and yet was, agreed with himself.

He caught a word from _Alpha_... 'blades'... and his lips curled into a snarl, another low rumble in his chest. _Assassins_. They sent _assassins_ to them. Dangerous. Dangerous. If they catch you... if they catch _her_... dangerous.

_Help her_, the wolf said.

Help her? Look at her. Fierce little wildcat didn't need any help. She had claws, and could use them. Sharp teeth, sharp claws, sharp mind. _Sharp pain._ You talk nonsense, wolf. _Watch._

So here he was, watching the lone figure pace around the glade. She paid little attention to the bodies. She had already searched them, but she would find nothing else. He knew. _Oh, he knew..._

Shandra Jerro had left not long ago, and now the knight on the delicious-smelling steed returned. More yapping. _She_ put him in his place, of course. He wasn't part of the pack. He was an outsider. An interloper. He didn't belong.

_Do we?_

He ignored that thought as the knight led _Alpha_ away, and then he turned and shook the morning dew out of his fur. A musky scent caught his attention, and he hunted around in the grass for a moment.

A dire badger backed off, chittering angrily at him. The wolf grinned at the badger, a wide, canine laugh with his tongue hanging out.

_So. Not the only one watching her tonight._

o - o - o - o - o

Casavir, sat at the bar in the Sunken Flagon, was trying to listen to what Sal was saying... something about justice and Luskans. But he found that he could not keep his attention on the barman. He was too worried... about Kail.

It was true that she had only requested to become a squire at Sir Nevalle's suggestion, but he suspected she had no idea what would be expected of her... or... sadly, if she was even _capable_ of doing what would be expected of her. It wasn't that she was an evil person, or that she didn't help others... but the bard followed her own moral compass. Instead of showing sympathy for the people of Ember, she had scorned them. She seemed to think that just because her people had managed to repel a githyanki invasion, others should be able to do the same. But he had learnt a little about West Harbor, from talking to Elanee. He knew now that they had a militia there, and regular skirmishes with lizardfolk and beasts of the Mere helped to keep them on their toes.

The people of Ember had had no militia. It was a small farming community, only being given a place on the maps because it was a stopping point for merchants travelling to Port Llast. There was nothing the people could have done to prevent the githyanki from setting an ambush in their homes. And there was nothing they could have done when somebody, whoever it was, came to slaughter them. And yet he was sure that Kail would not see it that way.

It was almost as if the girl had two personalities within her... one was a quick-witted bard who could be a little sarcastic and jaded at times, or wise and intuitive at other times... and the other personality was something dark and repressed, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for a chance to emerge. It worried him what she might be capable of. Like last night, when she had stood outside in the storm, raging at the Gods. That was not the first time her behaviour had worried him. Without conscious direction, his mind went back to several nights ago, when they had been following the trail of the githyanki who had kidnapped Shandra.

_"You look troubled. Are you alright?" she had asked him a couple of hours after they had left Ember._

_"That man who we have taken on with us... Bishop. I do not trust him," he had told her. "And I do not like the way that he looks at you."_

_"Why do you care?" she asked in surprise. And yet it had surprised __**him**__ that she thought he didn't._

_"Because he is a predator. Watch yourself -- he is manipulative and dangerous," he had said._

_"There's nothing wrong with looking, you know," was her reply. "You should try it yourself sometime."_

_"Very well, it is not my affair," he said, disturbed that she was not concerned in the slightest. "I only felt... compelled... to warn you. Forgive me."_

Either Kail didn't see how dangerous Bishop was, or for some reason, she saw and ignored it. Duncan did not seem happy to have the man around his niece, and he was willing to defer to the innkeeper's judgement on the matter. He wished that Elanee was around, so that he could talk to her about the matter. The slight woman seemed to know a lot about Kail, and he was hoping that she would be able to give him some insights into the bard's behaviour.

But Elanee had gone to bed early, complaining of a headache. Bishop had gone too bed too, which was strange as he usually stayed up late drinking. Shandra had gone to bed even earlier than both of them, claiming that the events of the past few days had exhausted her. That was understandable; she had been through, and lost, so much in so short a time. Few people would have remained as strong as she had.

He considered approaching Neeshka about Kail's behaviour, but suspected it would be futile. The Tiefling did not like him, he knew, and she would probably not tell the truth in any case. Her loyalty, the little she actually possessed, was to Kail. With a sigh, he took a small sip of his ale. This, he suspected, was going to be a long night.

o - o - o - o - o

"What happened here?" asked Sir Grayson, dismounting his horse and taking in the three dead bodies.

"I was sitting here, minding my own business, praying to Shaundakul," she said, "when I was attacked by three Luskan assassins. They're not a problem any more though."

"And you handled them all by yourself?" he said, sounding somewhat impressed, and somewhat disbelieving.

"I like to think that Shaundakul helped guide my hand," she mused.

"Well... it is good that you are unharmed. And now, the vigil is complete. Shall we go to Castle Never, so that you can be formally accepted as my squire?"

"Sure. Will there be a party? Colourful hats, and some of those little pastry things with pork in the middle?" she grinned.

"I'm afraid not. But there is something better; Lord Nasher himself wishes to speak to you. That is an honour that is not bestowed upon just any squire."

"Oh. Well, okay. Take me to Castle Never," she shrugged.


	38. Plots, Plans, and Preparations

_38. Plots, Plans, and Preparations_

Shandra and Sand were waiting for Kail outside of Castle Never.

"Are you alright? How did it go?" asked Shandra, though she knew full well, having been there herself.

"I'm sorry, but I could not discourage her from following me," said Sand.

"It's okay," she told him. "It went fine, thanks. A little praying, a little singing, a little killing of the Luskan assassins... it went well."

"You may both accompany us to see Lord Nasher," said Sir Grayson. "But once we reach the throne room, you will need to be silent, so that Lord Nasher may address my new squire uninterrupted."

"Fear not, for I have long ago mastered the fine art of quieting my tongue," said Sand wryly.

"Yeah, I can be quiet too," said Shandra.

"Very well. Then let us proceed." He opened the heavy doors of Castle Never and led them through the halls. Everything looked too... clean, to Kail's eyes. Everywhere was marble, and carved stone, and it was all spotless. It made her feel _very_ out of place, like an outsider, somebody who didn't belong here, and never would. _Give me the Flagon any day,_ she thought.

Sir Grayson stopped outside a particularly ornate pair of doors, and gestured the guards aside with a wave of his hand. Then he turned towards her and bent over, to grasp her shoulders and look at her on her own eye-level.

"Are you ready?" he asked. It seemed like a strange question. Was she supposed to be showing nerves, or feeling over-awed? Surely a man was a man, whether he was a farmer, a king, or the lord of Neverwinter.

"Yes," she said, taking a deep breath, more to put Sir Grayson at his ease than to steady her own non-existant nerves; he seemed a little perplexed by her composure. He nodded to himself, then pushed open one of the doors and led her inside. Sand and Shandra followed behind.

Lord Nasher was not what she had been expecting. He was a tall, bald man, with a neatly trimmed beard and a long, thin face. On his brow he wore a crown, or diadem, or coronet; she didn't really know the difference. He wore robes of a dazzling white, and beneath them was a set of chain armour that shone gold in the light of the hall. He was seated on a throne, set atop a sweeping flight of low stairs, looking down on all those around him.

"Ah, Sir Grayson. A pleasure to see you," said Lord Nasher as they approached.

"It is my honour to serve, my lord," said Grayson, bowing low.

"What brings you here? You look troubled," said Lord Nasher.

"My lord, it has come to my attention that this woman stands accused of murder, and is to be given over to Luskan for trial."

"What you have heard is true. Is that why you are here?" asked Nasher.

"I am here because this woman is my squire, and must be tried by your hand and the will of the Gods alone," said Grayson. Though Kail knew that, outwardly, her face was still and her demeanour calm, inside, her mind was working overtime. What was this about? Lord Nasher already knew all of this! It was he who, through Nevalle, had suggested that she become a squire to Sir Grayson in the first place. Why the pretense?

"What is this nonsense?" came a voice from across the other side of the room. "This knight has no squire." It was then that she noticed the woman, dressed in a strange, multi-hued dress and fur-lined cloak.

"I would choose your words carefully, ambassador, lest I think you were accusing one of my knights of speaking lies," said Lord Nasher.

"I only hear the words of a man shielding a murderer," said the woman.

"Then let the accused speak. What say you -- does my knight speak truly? Are you his squire?"

"I am his squire, and I swear to serve Neverwinter faithfully and well," she said, bowing. She would probably live to regret those words, but what else could be done?

"Then it is true. That means this squire will be tried here, ambassador... _not_ within Luskan's walls," said Lord Nasher. _Ahh, now I understand_, she thought. _Lord Nasher can't be seen to be playing any part in this deception, or the Luskans will think him to be hiding a 'murderer'._

"There is no justice in this. But I was a fool to expect justice in Neverwinter," said the ambassador. Kail immediately disliked the woman. It was a combination of her false personality, and the extrmely low-cut dress that showed an _unhealthy_ amount of cleavage. Some women just had no standards. Why, even the dancers in the Moonstone Mask wore more than this ambassador! The woman turned and stalked out of the room, somehow conveying anger whilst wiggling her hips suggestively with every step.

"Seeing that gloating smile stripped from her face pleases me more than you will know," said Lord Nasher. Then he sighed. "But this has bought only a little more time, time we cannot afford to waste. We must find the truth of what happened at Ember, and quickly. But you cannot do so here. You have my leave to depart Neverwinter, provided you give me your word to return for the trial."

"Of course, Lord Nasher," she said promptly.

"Travel to Port Llast," he said. "Someone there can guide you to Ember. Then return with whatever you can find that will prove your innocence."

"It would be wise to speak to Haeromos in Port Llast," said Sand in her ear. "He is said to be a fair man, and vigilant of his people and the lands around. We'll see." Sir Grayson shot Sand a meaningful 'I-thought-I-told-you-to-keep-quiet' look.

"You are to be congratulated on joning the service of Neverwinter and its knights," said Lord Nasher. "Serve Neverwinter, and it will serve you. Keep your resolve -- I am confident you will expose the truth of this matter soon enough. And after this trial, I will have more duties for you." Inwardly, she groaned.

"Come," said Sir Grayson. "I will escort you to the exit. After that, and until you return victorious, you are on your own, I'm afraid."

"We must speak in private," Sand said, laying a hand on her arm. She nodded; she had just the place in mind.

o - o - o - o - o

Kail trudged wearily towards the Flagon. With Shandra showing up, then having to defend against Luskan assassins, it had been a sleepless night. Now all she wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep for a day or two. But she didn't have that luxury. Lord Nasher had given her permission to leave the city, and she wanted to be gone before he could change his mind. She would use what was left of the rest of the day to make her preparations with Sand, and leave first light in the morning.

As she entered the Flagon with Sand and Shandra on her heels, everyone turned towards her, even Fenton and Weasel. She saw mouths being opened with a thousand questions, and jumped in before they could begin.

"I'm now officially a squire, though thankfully my 'knight' won't be around very much. I've been given permission to leave the city to find evidence of my innocence, so tomorrow at first light, Sand and I will be travelling... _alone!_... to Port Llast, and then to Ember. You are all to stay here and wait until I return for trial." Again mouths opened, and Duncan looked like he was ready to shout, so she quickly turned to Sand. "Come with me. We have plans to make."

She lead him through the common room and into the corridor that lead to the rear of the building. There she unlocked her door and ushered him inside, bolting it behind them. Fetching him a chair, she indicated for him to sit.

"I know it's impolite, but would you mind giving me a few minutes to go and have a quick wash? I have Luskan blood all over my clothes, so I think it's best that I get changed before we start talking," she said.

"Of course, take your time," he said graciously. "Ah, I see you have a copy of 'To Counter the Assumptions of a Flat Faerûn'. I shall amuse myself with your book until you return."

She thanked him again, grabbed a change of clothes from her drawer, and hurried to the bathroom. The door had been fixed and she quickly half-filled the bath with water that was only luke warm. She stayed in there only long enough to wash the blood from her skin and dust from her hair, then she dried herself and dressed before returning to her room.

"I feel much better," she said.

"And you look much better too. And smell better. You have no idea how the metallic tang of blood irritates my keep elven senses," he said.

"Can I get you anything? A drink? Something to eat?"

"No, no. Why don't we just get straight to the point."

"Okay. About this trial..." she said. "How much evidence to you think we need?"

"Hard to say until we actully find some. The best would be eye-witness accounts, of course, since that would clearly indicate that you're not the criminal here."

"Where's the best place to start searching for clues?"

"To Port Llast first, then to Ember. Then see what we find along the way, I think. No crime is perfect, so the true murderers are bound to have slipped up somewhere," said Sand confidently. She nodded absently. Lucas had said something similar, once. _'No performance is perfect. There is always room for improvement.'_

"What do you know of a guy named 'Black Garius'?" she asked him.

"The name _is_ familiar," he replied, narrowing his eyes in thought. "I believe he was once a low level wizard of the Hosttower of the Arcane."

"Well, now he's Master of the Fifth... apparently."

"To have him rise so high, so quickly..." said Sand thoughtfully, "He must have gained a powerful patron indeed. He was cunning, and had skill with the craft, but not enough to warrant this. Why do you ask?"

"Because in the past, Luskans have been sent to kill me. Sent by Black Garius, because I've been getting in his way. Or so I've been told."

"Really? That _is_ interesting. If we can prove that Garius is an enemy of Neverwinter, then that will go a long way to proving your innocence."

"Do you have anything we can use against him?" she asked.

"Hmm. I did not know him well, but the mere fact that he has risen to power so quickly cannot mean he has a stable power base. And it must mean he made many enemies. Such enemies may reveal themselves if we seek to stop him... and they will become our allies."

"Then we'll just have to keep our ears open," she replied. "Now, let's discuss what we're going to need for the trip tomorrow."

o - o - o - o - o

"And then were were attacked by three Luskan assassins," said Shandra. Everybody was crowded around listening to her tale of the previous night; Grobnar was taking notes.

"How do you know they were assassins?" Neeshka asked.

"I am reliably informed that black clothing and a penchant for large poisonous amphibian collections is not truly indicative of an assassin," said Grobnar, smiling at Neeshka.

"Well," she replied, "they had these rings, like daggers, all pointing in a circle, and Kail said that they're called... the Circle Knives, or something."

"The Circle of Blades," said Bishop, in what she had come to think of as his condescending tone of voice. "Notorious Luskan assassins. Very skilled, and very dangerous... I'm surprised _you_ managed to survive even _one_ of them."

"Well... Kail did most of the fighting," she admitted. It wasn't like she herself had had the same years of practise as everyone else, after all. "But I did kill one of them, for what it's worth. He just... sorta had a knife already stuck in his leg."

"I cannot say that I approve of you breaking the customs and spoiling the vigil for Kail. Your presence could have jeopardised her being accepted as a squire, had you been caught," said Casavir.

"On the other hand, Kail being _dead_ would have jeopardised her being accepted as a squire," said Neeshka. "So Shandra did the right thing." She smiled at the thief. The woman wasn't so bad, once you got to know her.

"Yes, certainly," said Grobnar. "Imagine if they had had a necromancer with them. Why, they could have raised Kail as a zombie, and that would have put a stopper on her being accepted as a squire for sure! In fact, you would probably have to kill her now, Sir Casavir, considering the paladin stance toward the undead."

"But what's this about her having to go back to find evidence of her own innocence? It sounds risky to me," said Duncan. "If assassins dared strike at her in the Solace Glade, within sight of Neverwinter's walls, how much more bolder will they be once Kail's back over the Luskan border?"

"Over the Luskan border with nothing but a hedge wizard for protection," said Qara

"If you are intimating that we should go with her... we cannot. She has already forbidden it," said Casavir. "Besides, if she truly needed our help, she would ask for it." Bishop snorted.

"Well, either way, there's no point worrying about it until she's finished with Sand. Once he's gone, we can try to talk her into the right of it. I'm sure the lass will see sense," said Khelgar.

"Uh, Grobnar," said Shandra, "Do you think you can come and help me rearrange the furniture in my room? I'm not sure I'm comfortable with the bed being so close to the window. I get an occasional draught."

"Why of course, I would be happy to help. Whilst we're at it I can show you the new bed sheets I've had made for you, to help you feel more at home!" She slid off her stool and tried to walk casually away from the others. They barely even noticed her leaving; each one seemed wrapped up in their own thoughts. But now she was having a thought of her own. She had already followed Kail once... what was stopping her from doing it again?

o - o - o - o - o

Bishop crept along the corridor and stopped outside Kail's door. The rooms to either side of hers were empty. The Tiefling and the Dwarf had them at first, but they complained that she sang and played music at all hours, though she denied it, so Duncan had moved them. A smile tugged at his lips. It wouldn't surprise him if she'd done it on purpose, just to be rid of them. She was vehement about her privacy. A quiet bard. Who could have imagined it?

He pressed his ear to the door. Silence. But she was in there. He'd seen her go in, and she hadn't come out when the wizard left. He knocked on the door and waited, and her voice, when it came, was slightly muffled by the walls between them.

"Just so you know, I had Sand magically reinforce the hinges before he left. But it's not locked, so you can come in the non-violent way." He felt his teeth bared in a grin as he pulled the handle and pushed the door open, slipping into the room like a shadow, closing the door behind him.

She was lying on her stomach on the bed, her legs crossed in the air over her back. Her hair, still damp from her hasty bath -- you couldn't have Neverwinter's newest squire walking around covered in the blood of Luskan assassins after all, now could you? -- was slightly tousled and looked... different. Ah, she'd cut it shorter again, to just above her shoulder. Her white shirt was unlaced at the neck, and he could _just_ see the top of the faint scar on her chest that marked where a shard of a Githyanki sword had torn through her skin as an infant. On the bed in front of her was a thick wad of paper, and she tapped a charcoal stick against it -- with impatience, or rhythm? -- as he assessed her. Her eyes, when he met them, watched him impassively. Grey stone, blue ice. He reached behind his back and slid the bolt across the door.

"How did you know it was me?" he asked. She gave him that pained 'I'm-not-as-stupid-as-I-seem' look that she normally reserved for the paladin, and a brief flash of emotion flickered across her eyes.

"You knocked. Therefore you couldn't have been Neeshka. I would have heard anybody else coming down the corridor," she explained patiently. _Definitely_ not as stupid as she seemed.

"Well done, wildcat," he murmured, and her mouth quirked into a tiny curl of amusement.

"I will probably regret asking this," she said, "but what's on your mind?" _Ah, little wildcat, if only you knew._ There was a chair in her room beside the small dresser table, but her eyes had not yet flickered to it, not yet invited him to sit. He would play the game her way, for now. He folded his arms and leant back against the door.

"Ember. I'm going back there with you." Genuine surprise registered on her face, then she shook her head.

"Sand and I can handle it. We're going alone."

"You and the Elf, and the farm-girl. Don't forget about her. You're never going to get rid of her now, you know. She'll follow you around like some lost little puppy, hoping you can keep her safe." Good thing the paladin wasn't here. At this point he usually started interfering. _Be__** nice **__to the little farm-girl, Bishop. Stop talking to our leader as if she's a woman with a mind of her own, Bishop. Don't shoot at the Gnome, Bishop._ By the gods, that man needed putting out of his misery.

The woman on the bed merely watched him, with that strange look she sometimes wore that suggested she was listening to something only she could hear. He didn't like that look. It was a look that said _'I know things'_. He just didn't know what she knew. Talk about still waters; she could probably teach the stone-faced paladin a thing or two. But there was a difference. There was something lurking under her surface, something that, when provoked enough, lashed out at everything around it. He was still trying to work out how to make that happen. It would be amusing to watch the effects.

"Shandra will learn what she needs to learn," Kail said with a small shrug. "Was that why you came here? To talk to me about Shandra?" It was an innocent enough question, but was that a hint of... jealousy, he heard in her voice? It would be worth exploring, later.

"No. I just came to tell you that I _am_ going back to Ember with you tomorrow, whether you want me to or not. Do you really think you can keep me from following you? Or even from getting there faster than you?" he asked. She was smart enough to not answer that one.

"But why? You were a great help in tracking the githyanki. In fact, we couldn't have done it without you. But I know the way to Ember now. You don't need to guide us."

"You may know the way to Ember," he said with a small shrug, "but to get there you'll still have to cross over the Luskan border. That means avoiding scouts and patrols, and for that you will need me. Do you think they will just _let_ you try to find evidence to clear yourself from a crime they probably committed in the first place?" He saw it in her eyes, then, and felt a small pang of victory. Uncertainty. Something she hadn't thought of. A tiny, barely noticeable crack in her cool, confident veneer. _She's off-guard. Your advantage._ He left the door and crossed the room, lounging back in the chair beside the table.

"Besides, I know how these Luskans operate. I've seen their handiwork before," _only, it wasn't Ember, that time... _"and whilst I'm sure the Elf will come in useful, there may be things that he might miss. Things that I can find." She regarded him for a moment with the intense, scrutinising gaze that she used on things that puzzled her. Then she put the charcoal stick down on top of the paper, pulling herself up to sit cross-legged on the bed.

"What do you think about the trial?" she asked.

"The trial? A Luskan trick. They're probably still angry with you for driving away their agents in Neverwinter. Yeah, Duncan told me about that."

"My uncle talks a lot," she said, narrowing her eyes at the door.

"Duncan sure does. Not one for keeping secrets, but always quick to call in a debt when he wants." And one day, he would regret it. Kail blinked and shook her head, then returned her gaze to his eyes. Not many people met his eyes like she did. Not for very long, anyway.

"What do you think I should do about it? The trial, I mean." Now it was his turn to be surprised. She rarely asked for advice, and never from him, unless forced.

"Are you seriously asking me, or just making conversation? Because it seems to me that a... 'law abiding' lady like yourself," he put a sarcastic twist on the words which suggested she was nothing of the sort, "might just be asking, for the sake of asking. And trust me, I'll respect you a lot more if you admit it now, than if you hear my advice and ignore it."

"If I acted on everything I heard, I wouldn't respect myself," she said drily.

"Hmm. True enough. I'm not one for following what everyone tells me, either. I think you should skip the trial and just try to kill the ambassador. That'll send them a nice message about what you think of justice." He watched her eyes glaze over, her gaze turned inward.

"I'll admit... killing her does have a certain poetic justice about it. Especially since she's probably guilty of the crime she's accused me of." The bard shook her head and smiled. Ah well, he didn't think she'd go for that one anyway.

"Well, if you don't want to waste time in court..." he said as he combined gliding from the chair to the bed and crouching behind her into one fluid movement. He lowered his voice to barely more than a whisper and bent his head towards her ear, ignoring the lightly perfumed scent of soap that tickled his nose. "You could just run from this. You and I could go find some hidden trail somewhere, and camp... for a year or two." It pleased him immensely that she didn't turn around and thump him. The farm-girl probably would have.

"Is that an offer, or just another snide comment?" she asked in a sickly-sweet innocent voice. Was it his imagination or was she leaning back slightly, pressing her shoulders to his chest? He moved back ever so slightly, and she shifted with him. _Can you blame her? She's been travelling for weeks with a repressed, tin-headed paladin, an obsessive stalker druidess, a Gnome with slightly less sanity than his own lute, a stuck-up daddy's girl, a Dwarf who can barely string three complex words together, and a half-demon kleptomaniac. And before that she lived in West Harbor, where the idea of a good time consisted of a pig-farming contest and punching somebody until they passed out._

"I don't know. If it was an offer... what would you say?" he asked. Now her neck was so close that he need only tilt his head to be able to kiss it. If he wanted. Which he didn't. Obviously.

"I will never run from a Luskan _dog_," she spat. He grinned. Defences back up, in record time too. _But what__** will **__you run from, wildcat?_

"In the mean time, I _suppose_ you could follow the procedures and try to find proof of their claim. But that's only worth it if you can hurt Luskan in the process," he said, backing off the bed. Two strides took him to the door, which he unbolted and opened. "Try not to lose too much sleep over dead Ember. We'll need to make an early start in the morning."

He stepped through the doorway and pulled it closed behind him without looking back at her. Then, grinning, he silently crept down the corridor. _She hadn't answered his question._

o - o - o - o - o

Elanee ducked back around the corner as Kail's bedroom door clicked open.

"Try not to lose too much sleep over dead Ember," said an arrogant voice. "We'll need to make an early start in the morning."

The door clicked closed, and she gave a silent count to thirty before peering around the corner once again. The corridor was empty, filled only with dancing shadows from the flames of the wall lamps. She narrowed her eyes at the bard's door. So, the ranger thought he was going with Kail and Sand, did he? No doubt he had all sorts of nefarious plans, and she didn't doubt that if the bard and the wizard went off alone with Bishop, none of them would be seen again. She would not let that happen. She had worked too hard, watching Kail all these years, to see that go to waste. Besides, she had become quite fond of the girl, for all of her strangeness.

She chewed her lip for a moment, a mannerism that she had only developed since arriving in this horrible city. Keeping Kail safe would not be easy. Like many humans, the young woman was stubborn and contrary, and prone to acting before thinking. If she thought that Elanee was covertly keeping a watchful eye on her, she might try to give her the slip, might even refuse to listen to her at all, and then Elanee would lose what little influence she had left with the girl.

She would need an ally. Two people meant two pairs of eyes, two minds working, two sets of weapons should they be needed. She needed somebody who would do what was right for Kail regardless of the young woman's wishes. Someone who would not let friendship or blind obedience cloud their judgment or get in the way of duty. Luckily, she had just the person in mind.

She slipped quietly down the corridor and knocked on another bedroom door. There was silence for a few seconds, then the sound of the bolt sliding back, allowing the door to open a crack. A pair of dazzling blue eyes looked out at her, surprise registering on the finely chiseled face.

"Elanee? Is there a problem?" asked Casavir.

"Of sorts," she replied. He opened the door wide to admit her into his room. It was dark, the only source of light from two candles beside a symbol of Tyr, on a small table. The man himself was dressed in a pair of loose pants, and wore a plain white shirt. He looked smaller, somehow, less imposing than when he was clad in his plate armour, but his presence was no less commanding. "I hope I'm not interrupting you," she said by way of apology.

"Not at all. I was just offering a prayer. To Tyr."

"Ah. A prayer for what? If you don't mind me asking," she added hastily. She wasn't even sure why she'd asked. Prayers that did not concern the land were pointless, in her opinion.

"For the dead of Ember," he replied, his expression sombre and troubled.

"Ah." _Very eloquent,_ she chided herself. "That is, partially, the reason why I am here." He nodded for her to continue, and indicated a chair for her to sit while he perched on the edge of his bed. She took a deep breath, steeling herself to ignore the intensity of his gaze. _He's just a human,_ she thought to herself. _How in the name of the heavens does Kail bring herself to argue with such a warm, attentive face? No, pay attention. You're not here for flights of fancy. Duty. Remember duty._ "I'm going back to Ember with Kail."

"I thought she did not want anybody else with her? She was quite adamant that we are all to remain here while she and Sand deal with the evidence," Casavir pointed out. That was something of an understatement. Kail had told them all that they were to stay here, and then had sequestered Sand in her room for _hours_ so that she could make plans with him without anybody else overhearing. The woman was determined to do this alone. She didn't want help. Didn't know how to ask for it.

"Sometimes Kail makes bad choices, and rather than admit to them and ask for help, she digs her heels in and tries to weather the effects, like an oak tree standing before a storm. We, as her friends, need to help her when she needs it most, because those are the times that she will _never_ ask for it," she explained patiently. Casavir nodded slightly at her words. He had obviously noticed that too.

"She is..." he seemed to struggle to find the correct description, "fiercely independent," he finished.

"Exactly. And whilst that isn't necessarily a bad thing, it does mean that she tends to try to do too much by herself. She will only end up burning herself out if she keeps trying to do things alone." Casavir nodded again. "Besides, I want to make sure she gets back alive."

"You do not trust Sand to keep her safe?" he asked in surprise. "I think you are worrying a little too much. The wizard is obviously wise in the ways of the world, and I suspect he wields not a small measure of power."

"Trust Sand? Not really. He is only helping because his arm has been twisted. He cares only for seeing Luskan humiliated. He does not care about Kail." She leant forward and place her hand on his arm, her heart thudding in her chest as she did so. "Not like we care about her." He nodded slowly, as if admitting something to himself. She had suspected that he cared for the bard more than he was letting on, and it pained her to see him admit it. Why should that bother her? He was just a human. Her only concern was with the land. And with keeping Kail safe. It was up to her to see that Casavir wanted to keep the young woman safe at all costs, no matter how much it pained her to do it. "Besides, Bishop is going with them, and _him_ I do not trust in the slightest."

"Bishop?" Casavir asked, his blue eyes turning to ice as they narrowed. That was all, but it spoke volumes. From what she understood -- which admittedly wasn't very much -- paladins weren't supposed to hate. They were supposed to be above that. They were supposed to teach forgiveness, to show mercy and compassion to even their enemies. But Casavir _hated_ the ranger. Bishop made a mockery of everything a paladin stood for. Kail was right in the centre of most of their fighting, and, disturbingly, none of them seemed to see it.

"You see now why I am worried?"

"Kail does not like me... helping her," said Casavir slowly, working through his thoughts. "Why did you not take this to Khelgar, or Neeshka? I am sure she would accept help more readily from one of her... friends."

"You _are_ one of her friends, Casavir," said Elanee, saying what needed to be said and hating herself for it. "Don't think that you're not. She doesn't agree with a lot of your opinions or perceptions... for that matter, neither do I. But you will always have her respect, as you have mine. Yes, she is close to Khelgar and Neeshka, but the three of them are _too_ close. She will follow them, and they will follow her, and they will all go along with what the others want without questioning their methods or safety. They encourage her despite the risk to her. Khelgar encourages her to fight, and Neeshka encourages her to break laws, and they both lack the common sense, and maturity, possessed by you and I. That is why I came to you, rather than them. Because I know you will remain impartial. You will see things they cannot because they are blinded by loyalty and too caught up with their own plans. You and I can see the bigger picture."

"I am touched by your faith in me," he said quietly, his voice rumbling in his chest. Despite all reasoning, her insides felt as if they were melting. She hastily stood up and crossed the room to the door.

"Keeping Kail safe is not the only reason I am going with her tomorrow. I make no secret of the fact that I care little for this city. I find it stifling and restrictive. A journey into the woods would be most welcoming for me, and Kail will not begrudge me that. I do not think she would begrudge you, if you wanted to visit Ember to pray, personally, for the dead." She slipped out of the door, pulling it closed behind her, then took a deep breath. Now all that was left was to pack a bag, and hope she could survive a trip to Ember watching Casavir look longingly at Kail.

o - o - o - o - o

"Keep still, moss-breath," Neeshka hissed.

"Bah, stop shifting yer weight around, Tiefling. I'm a Dwarf, not a step-ladder."

"I wouldn't _have_ to shift my weight around if you'd stop throwing me off balance. I want you to stand still, not dance a jig. Even the tree-worshipper could manage better than you."

"Well why don't I go and get her then, and the pair of ye can get on with yer spying together?" She let out a quiet yelp as Khelgar started walking.

"No, I'm sorry, take me back, I almost had it." He moved backwards, and as the window ledge loomed at her she reached up and grabbed it, hauling herself up slightly as Khelgar supported her feet on his shoulders.

"What do ye see?" he asked.

"A whole lot of dirty glass. I doubt Duncan has cleaned these windows since the place was rebuilt. It's _filthy_."

"If this has all been for nothing..." he growled the threat under his breath.

"No, no, it's not for nothing. I think I can see something. Can you raise me any higher?" she asked.

"Maybe if _I_ had somebody to stand on, I could. But this is as high as you go. Now tell me what's going on. The ranger was in there as soon as the wizard was out the door."

"Shut up and let me listen then," she snapped, turning her head to try and catch the words. "He's walking to the door. Now he's opened it."

"...try not to lose too much sleep over dead Ember. We'll need to make an early start in the morning." She hissed, and jumped down from Khelgar's shoulders, landing in a crouch.

"Next time, I'm doing the spying. It's got to be easier than supporting a big fat Tiefling," said Khelgar, rolling his shoulders as she dusted off her hands.

"I'm petite and you know it, barrel-house."

"I think you've been eating too many of Sal's pork pies. And I don't see why Duncan had to put the window so high up. Ye'd think he did it on purpose, just to spite us. Now, what was going on in there? Or is it one of those things I _really_ don't want to hear in detail?"

"Oh gee, thanks, just what I needed. Mental images. I think I need a drink," she groaned.

"Hey, that's my line! So what, then?" he pressed.

"We missed most of the conversation. I only heard one thing that he said as he left, and it sounds like he's managed to weasel his way into going back to Ember with her."

"Hnh." Khelgar gave a grunt of distaste. "Then we'll just have to go with her too. A young lass, out there alone in the wilds, with possibly rabid animals, it isn't right!"

"Yeah, not to mention with Sand and Bishop," she said.

"That's what I meant," he said, and she gave him a quiet chuckle. They walked into the Flagon and gestured for Sal to bring them some ale at one of the group's usual tables. Fenton and Weasel were the only other people present in the room; even Duncan wasn't around. They waited for Sal to disappear before bending their heads closer together.

"So, how do you want to do this? We could tell her outright that she's not going without us, or we can follow her some way until she's out in the forest, and then approach her, at which point it will be too late for her to send us back," she suggested.

"I don't think we've got much chance at following her. She's hardly out of her element in forest, and she and the wizard and the ranger... they're all pretty damn attentive. I think they'd see us before they got very far," he said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, not to mention that they'd smell _you_ a mile off," she grinned.

"Or hear the angry pitchfork-waving mob chasing _you_ from ten miles off. Hmm, d'ya think we should tell the tree-worshipper? She has that way of talking to the animals... might be useful to get some of those on our side if it comes down to sneaking."

"It's not 'sneaking', it's 'being subtle'. Sneaking is what you do in illegal situations. But we are _not_ involving the tree-worshipper. I don't trust her. At least _I'm_ honest about my sneaking. At least _I_ don't pretend to be something I'm not. As far as I'm concerned, this is none of her business. We're Kail's friends. We care about her. All Elanee cares about is using Kail and the shards to get her answers, to try to..." she raised her voice to a mocking tone "'heal the terrible wound in the land, and all the fuzzy-wuzzy little animals being harmed'."

"Hmm, you're right about that, at least," said Khelgar grudgingly. "What about the others?"

"No, just you and me. We've been with her since the beginning, and we need to be there for her like she's been there for us. The others wouldn't understand. Besides, Shandra won't let Kail out of her sights. She'll end up tagging along with them, and that means Grobnar will be tagging along after Shandra. And if _they_ get to go, we get to go too."

"Alright, but I nominate **you** to tell her that we're going with her," he said with a malicious smile.

"Fine by me. We're like sisters, me and Kail. She'll be fine with it. Really."

o - o - o - o - o

"My, are you really going to need all this... stuff?" asked Grobnar, holding up a bag of items that, for once, he didn't seem to be able to identify. Shandra blushed, snatched the bag from him, and shoved it into her pack.

"They're women's things, okay?" she snapped, and regretted it when he looked slightly hurt. "Look, I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to get mad. It's just... this whole situation stinks. I want to wrap my hand around that who-o... err, Luskan ambassador's neck and throttle her until she dies."

"I'm sure there's no need for that," Grobnar replied, patting her hand. "I'm sure that Kail will be able to prove her innocence. After all, she's a Squire of Neverwinter, a member of the City Watch, the slayer of countless thousands of orcs, and a really good bard."

"Countless thousands? Really?" she asked as she tipped out her backpack and began repacking it. Sometimes Grobnar could go a _little_ over-the-top.

"Well, maybe not _thousands_. But two really important, high-ranking ones. And their clans. And not to mention all those nasty githyanki who were holding you and the Blade Golem prisoner," said the Gnome.

"How do you _do_ this?!" she asked in frustration.

"It's not easy," he said, standing up and pacing the room. "There are times when it feels like the whole world is against you, when the thought of waking up to another day of travelling, of fighting, of merely _trying_, seems too much to bear. And in those times, the only things that keep you going are your friends, and the hope that you are making a difference in somebody's life." As he spoke he began gesticulating passionately, and she found herself impressed that so much emotion could come out of one little person. "The hope that someday, somewhere, some young person is going to turn to their parents and say _'You know, I really admire that Grobnar fellow. I want to become a bard, and be just like him, and travel around the realms gathering knowledge and making a difference in other peoples' lives.'_ Yes, it's hard when you're starting out, and you're constantly asking yourself 'what am I doing here?', 'why am I doing this?' and 'where did I put that whitethistle that I collected last week?', but believe me Shandra, it really does get easier."

"Wow. Thanks, Grobnar," she said with a smile and a pang of guilt. "But I uh... I meant how do you fit so much stuff in your backpack? It seems like no matter how much I trim it down, I'm leaving something important out."

"Oh. Well, I think I can help with that." He knelt on the floor beside her empty pack and the pile of supplies. "What's this?" he asked, holding a small pouch up.

"Women's things."

"And this?"

"Women's things."

"What about this? Ah no, wait, I know this one. Haven't seen one before, but I believe it's one of those steam-powered devic-"

"Actually, it's women's things," she said.

"You know..." he said slowly, as if he was actually thinking about his words for once, "I don't believe I've ever seen Kail carrying so many women's things."

"Kail is a Squire of Neverwinter, a member of the City Watch, slayer of countless thousands of orcs, and a really good bard. She probably doesn't _need_ women's things." From what she'd observed, Kail could be as oblivious as Grobnar at times. Maybe all bards were like that. Maybe their own creativity drove them towards insanity.

"But Elanee, Qara and Neeshka..."

"Don't count either," she said, and then sighed. "Look, I know it might be hard to understand, but... well... the others, they've all had time to get used to having adventures and traipsing around the realms killing stuff, and being totally self-reliant. But up until a few short days ago, I was a farmer. A good farmer, but a farmer nonetheless. When I made my runs to Port Llast and Ember every year, I had my carts with me, and the drivers I hired. I guess with everything that's happened, and in such a short space of time, I'm just trying to cling to what little normalcy I can."

"It's not hard to understand at all. But I think you might be better with a clean break. Sweep out the old and usher in the new, you know?"

"I know that you're right, but part of me doesn't want to let all of that go. Part of me just wants to go back and rebuild my farm and start over," she admitted.

"But Shandra, if you do that, the githyanki might find you again! Besides, Kail will need your help in Ember and Port Llast. Since you know so many people there, from your merchant runs, you may be able to discover things that she and Sand would miss. Her very _life_ could hinge upon your travelling with her!"

"Gee thanks, no pressure then," she said. But it would be nice to be able to help Kail, to maybe even learn something that could save the bard's life. After everything the younger woman had done for her, she _owed_ her that much at least. Besides, it would be nice to get away from this tavern for a while. Not that she didn't like the Flagon, or Kail's uncle, but her friends could be downright exhausting. It seemed like everybody was arguing with each other constantly. Khelgar and Neeshka, Casavir and Bishop, Sand and Qara... even Elanee took a snipe or two when the mood took her. It seemed like the only person who didn't go out of his way to purposely antagonise people was Grobnar. 'Purposely' being the key word. Most of them seemed to look down on the Gnome, but she rather liked the little man, and she knew Kail did too.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that you're the only one who can save Kail from Luskan torture devices," he said, then winced at her expression. "Sorry."

"Why don't you come with us, Grobnar?" she asked. It would be nice to have somebody to talk to. Sand didn't seem like the chatty type, and Kail had been in a dark mood ever since Nevalle had shown up with the news of her accusation.

"Me? Oh, no, I don't think Kail would like that. You see, she gets this little glint in her eye when she's made up her mind and won't be argued with. The same sort of glint that Khelgar gets when he hears the nearby sound of a brawl, or that Neeshka gets when she sees the coins, or that Sir Bishop gets whenever he talks to Elanee. I'd hate to have her glinting at _me_ like that."

"But if you think about it, you'd actually be doing Kail a favour," she told him earnestly. "Kail's supposed to be teaching me, but I can't ask her to spend all her time on me whilst this trial's looming over her head. It wouldn't be fair. If you're with us, on the other hand, you can help me learn what I need to learn to become a successful, surviving adventurer, and then Kail won't have to worry about me as much."

"I say, I hadn't thought of that before," said Grobnar in surprise. "And you know, it really would be an excellent opportunity for me to work on a song I've been thinking about. It's a song about a hero of Neverwinter who's falsely accused of a crime she didn't commit, and together with her stalwart companions, she overcomes extreme adversity and prejudice to prove her innocence and expose an under-handed plot to overthrow Neverwinter itself!"

"That sounds like an inspired story. I hope there's a part in it for the hero's trusty sidekick. That is, if she ever gets her backpack sorted."

"Ah, of course. Here's what you need; a weapon, armour, one small bag of tea, one small bag of assorted medicinal herbs, one small bag of bandages, one change of clothing, one bar of soap, your toothbrush, hairbrush, cup, fork, knife, spoon, ground-sheet, sleeping bag or blanket, some tinder and a flint striker, money, one packet of travelling rations, and one canteen of water. In addition you may take no more than one small bag of women's items," he said, tallying off the items on his fingers. She packed the bag and was surprised to find that it had room to spare.

"Are you sure this is all I need?" she asked skeptically.

"Of course, of course. You need the additional room for things you might want to buy or collect elsewhere."

"Thanks, Grobnar. I would have been here all night without you," she said.

"Oh, it is no problem at all. And now I think I'll be off to get my own bag packed." The Gnome jumped up and wandered absently to her door. "I've been having a little trouble getting the mechanical view-enhancers to fit amongst all of..." his voice trailed off as he left her room, and she doubted that he would even notice that he wasn't talking to anybody. With a sigh, she tidied up the rest of her pile and then flopped back onto the bed. She hoped Kail would not shout too loudly tomorrow. But if she did, she would discover than Shandra Jerro could shout just as loud.


	39. Bound for Llast

_39. Bound for Llast_

Kail fastened a plain brown travelling cloak around her shoulders. Sand had advised her against wearing anything _too_ flashy, in case it drew too much of the wrong attention to her.

_"Remember, you're accused of wrongly slaughtering an entire village. You want to look like you're showing respect for the deceased, not travelling around in a circus. Dress plainly,"_ he had said. Luckily, she still had some of her old clothes from when she left West Harbor. Now she could pass for a farmer again. One of the little people. Not somebody who could be responsible for killing a whole village. _Nothing special about me,_ she thought. _No shards in my chest, no being hunted..._ She just hoped the people of Port Llast would believe it.

She grabbed her pack and opened at her bedroom door, pausing to look back. It looked just the same as ever... over there was her book, that Sand had left on the dresser. Over here is the coat stand that the crow used to perch on. She had let the crow go free on her way to Old Owl Well, before they had met Grobnar. The bird was old enough to take care of itself, now, and belonged with others of its kind. With a sigh, she pulled the door quietly closed behind her. No point waking everyone. Her Uncle and her friends would probably still be in bed at this hour; the sun was still low on the horizon. She just hoped that Sand would be ready. He had promised to meet her outside the Flagon at dawn.

Sand was true to his word. He was stood with his hands folded in front of him, doing an extremely good job of ignoring Bishop. The ranger was sat lounging on a wall, a small pack on the floor and his bow and quiver propped up against the wall. She took two steps towards the pair, and then realised they were not alone. Out in the street, everyone else was stood in small groups, yet managing to convey a sense of togetherness. Shandra and Grobnar were closest; they seemed to be checking through Shandra's pack and arguing in whispers. Khelgar and Neeshka were not far from them. When the pair saw her, the Dwarf cracked his knuckles and Neeshka grinned. A few paces away were Casavir and Elanee. The Elven woman looked calm and at ease, but Casavir's face had guilt written all over it. Alone and examing her nails in boredom, was Qara.

"It was good of you all to come to wish us a a safe journey, but not really necessary," she said, addressing everybody.

"I told you before, I'm not letting you out of my sight," said Shandra firmly. "And you agreed to it. Besides, I had a lot of friends in Ember. I owe it to them to see that justice prevails."

"Very well," she relented. After all, she _had_ promised that she would take care of Shandra. "But nobody else."

"Well... I sorta asked Grobnar to come too," said Shandra. "Somebody needs to train me to take care of myself, and it's not like you have time to do that right now. Grobnar can do that while you're gathering evidence for your trial." She sighed. This wasn't going well at all.

"I am travelling to Ember to continue my own investigations," said Elanee coolly. "There may be answers there as to what is wrong with the land. I may travel with you for some time, but ultimately, my quest is my own."

"And I wish to see that justice is given where justice is due. The dead of Ember deserve nothing less," said Casavir.

"You know that you're not going anywhere without me and moss-breath here," said Neeshka.

"Aye, lass," agreed Khelgar.

"I'm coming and you can't stop me," said Qara.

"How touching," said Bishop from atop the wall. "Seems the sheep are just lost without their shepherd. Now doesn't that make you feel important, wildcat?"

"We really should be going," said Sand. "Time is of the essence here, after all. The longer you dally around, the more guilty you will appear in the eyes of others."

"Alright, anyone who wants to come, can. Just make sure you can keep up." Everybody grabbed their packs, and they followed Sand out of Neverwinter.

o - o - o - o - o

"Ah, just the person I was looking for," said Bishop to Kail later that morning. He was returning from scouting ahead in the forest.

"Any problems?" she asked.

"Not yet. But we're on the main road. I doubt anyone would be foolish enough to attack us here. Too many merchants, travellers, and other witnesses."

"Then I take it you're expecting trouble later?"

"It's healthy to _always_ expect trouble, where Luskan is concerned," he told her. She nodded. That much was becoming obvious.

"You didn't seem too impressed with the people of Ember," she said after a moment.

"No," he replied, "and neither should you be. You're from West Harbor. Duncan told me what happened there -- the gith show up, and you killed them. And you know what, there'd be a lot less misery in the world if everyone followed that simple rule. Either stand up and fight, or be prepared to suffer."

"It seems to me that saying some people can't defend themselves is just making excuses for them," she mused. "Any piece of wood or metal big enough to be swung is a weapon, and anybody who can hold one is capable of fighting back." Just like Bevil's mother, Retta, had done, when the duergar invaded her home. She had fought with mere kitchen utensils to protect her children. Maternal instinct could be _very_ dangerous.

"There now, maybe I'm speaking to someone with some sense," said Bishop. "There's learning in fighting and killing -- and more in fighting for something you believe in. What would have happened if you never fought for anything? Why, you wouldn't have come all this way. Seems to me there's a strength in that, something you can learn from... and so could those fool villagers in Ember."

"Why did you become a ranger?" she asked. It had always puzzled her. In Lucas' stories, rangers were people who, with druids, helped to protect the land. They often worked with communities, protecting them from hostile forces, such as orcs, and acting as a bridge between civilisation and the wilds. If there was anybody _less_ suited to that role than Bishop, she could not imagine.

"Well, it's because tracking and hunting help put things in perspective. Out in the wild... well... the whole predator-prey relationship is a little more honest."

"And which are you?"

"I've been on both sides, prey and predator. And if you think you're a predator, you're usually wrong. You're always someone's prey."

"So who's hunting you?"

"Don't know," he said, looking around at the forest as he walked. "Maybe someone, maybe no one. But chances are I'll find out someday, unless I find them first."

"If you like the wilds, why do you spend so much time in Neverwinter?" she asked.

"Because you can't always find cheap ale in the wilderness or Duskwood, that's why. Besides, I have to get my next job from _somewhere_, and that doesn't usually happen out in the middle of nowhere."

"Job?" she said, quirking an eyebrow. "What is it exactly that you do?"

"Oh, tracking people down, hunting things, escorting goods from A to B via C without getting caught... those sorts of things."

"So I'm 'goods' now, am I?" she smiled.

"If you like," he said. "But if you ask me, I'm not getting paid nearly enough to escort _you_ anywhere. Of course, if you decide you want to be rid of your excess baggage, I'm sure you and I could give the rest of your flock the slip easily enough."

"That's the second time you've suggested that," she mused. "Any more and I'm going to suspect you're being serious."

"Oh look, it's the paladin on his way over," said Bishop, turning his head to look behind them. "Probably coming to berate me for breathing in your vicinity. I think it's time I went back to scouting... before the smell of armour polish hits me." He grinned and drifted towards the forest, melting into it in a heartbeat.

"Is something wrong?" she asked Casavir when he fell in beside her. A good dozen paces ahead of them, Sand was marching down the road, seeming intent on studying the skyline. She had no doubts that he had been listening to her conversation, though, and knew he was probably still was. Elven hearing, she was beginning to learn, was exceptional.

"Forgive me for interrupting, my lady, but I wished to talk to you about the vigil, and about your newly acquired status of squire," he replied. She wrinkled her nose slightly. Bishop was right; Casavir must have polished his armour that very morning. It gleamed under the bright sun. No sneaking around for paladins. That wasn't very noble; you had to announce to your enemies where you were, give them a sporting chance. _Chivalry_, she scoffed.

"Alright. Enlighten me," she said.

"Very well. To begin with a squire must always strive to uphold the virtues of honour and truth. Obediance to the lord and land are paramount..."

"But what if obeying my lord harms my land?" she asked. "For example, what if he asks me to kill a bunch of people who are innocent and have never broken a law in their lives?"

"Then you must assume that your lord has more knowledge than you, or is acting to the benefit of soceity on the whole."

"But what if he's just acting to his own benefit?"

"Then he would not be a lord."

"Are you saying that bad people cannot become lords, or that lords are incorruptible?" she asked.

"No, I am saying that he would not ask you to kill innocent people without good reason," he sighed.

"And who decides what is a 'good reason'? Surely not the people who are being killed. Don't they get a say in the matter?"

"I don't think you're understanding my point, my lady," he said patiently.

"No, I don't think I am. It seems to me that your system works well as long as you have a just lord, who always acts in favour of his people, even at his own loss. In which case, knights and squires are a bastion of goodness and justice. But as soon as that breaks down, and you get a selfish lord, or one who becomes corrupt, then the knights and squires are allowing blind obedience to lead then into doing what they may know is truly wrong. In fact, weren't you telling me before how you yourself have broken your oath by questioning your obedience to your lord and land?"

"It is true that I have had my doubts. But I have come to realise that my faith in Tyr is as strong as ever, and unrelenting even though I have questioned my mortal oaths. I know that, as long as Tyr continues to bless me, and allows me to act as a champion of his name, then I am doing right. Obedience to any man or woman is secondary compared to that. But you, on the other hand, do not have faith in Tyr to fall back on, to help guide your actions. As far as I know you do not worship any God, and that worries me. Belief in a God or a cause can help guide our morals, to make us better. When belief is taken away, all there is left to act on are base human needs, such as lust, or greed, or the desire for power. Some of your companions, for example, let these needs guide their actions."

"Do you think that Gods are infallible?" she asked. "Hmm, let's see, we have Cyric, who started off life as a mortal and has been growing increasingly insane with the lust for power. There's Bhaal, who spawned an army of children in order to save his own life, and power. Kelemvor tried to do the 'good' thing by allowing the faithless into an afterlife of sorts, only it turned out that he was encouraging people to think for themselves and rely less on gods for their post-death needs. Couldn't be having that, could we? So now we're given the choice of worshipping a deity or being sent to the Fugue plane after death. And you needn't worry that that will be my fate, if that's what you're thinking. I have already met my God, and been assured that he counts me amongst his faithful. And please don't talk to me about Tyr. If there was any justice in the world, I would not be accused of a crime I didn't commit. There is no justice. It's a human concept, and it's imperfect. If I should happen to be found guilty of this crime, will you happily hand me over to Luskan for execution, all because 'justice' says I'm guilty?"

"Of course not. I know that you are innocent, and I will fight to protect your honour," he said.

"Then it seems to me that laws, and justice, only work when you accept that it is flawless. Once you've questioned it once, there's always that doubt in your mind that maybe somebody _else_ is innocent too. I'm sure I'm not the first innocent person to be accused of a crime they didn't commit. And if I'm found guilty, that won't be a first either. How can you put your faith in something that's so flawed?"

"Because laws are what help to bind a society together. Without society, without laws, were are nothing more than animals," he said.

"To tell you the truth," she said, "I think right now, I'm preferring the animals."

o - o - o - o - o

"These are staffs," said Kail to Shandra that evening. They had finished the day by bathing in a nearby river, the men considerably further downstream than the women. Now they were camped by the side of the road around a small fire, and Kail was giving the other woman her first lesson in fighting.

"I thought I'd be getting a sword," said Shandra.

"Let's work on the staff for a bit first. When I can be sure you're not going to stab yourself, then you get a sword." Everybody else sat down to watch as she handed Shandra one of the staffs. "Now, I'm going to attack, slowly, and I want you to block, then strike back."

She slowly raised the staff toward's Shandra's head, and the other woman's staff came up to meet it. Then Shandra lowered her staff to strike at Kail's side, which she blocked. After a few more strikes she increased the speed, until Shandra missed a block and was knocked on the shoulder.

"Good," said Kail as Shandra rubbed her shoulder. "Now, that's the basics of blocking and attacking. You will get faster as you practice. Remember, the butt of your staff can also be used to attack... it will knock the wind out of an opponent. Now I'm going to show you how to knock an opponent off their feet. If you can get them on the ground, they're easier to hit. If I was to strike you like this," she said, aiming for Shandra's head again, you would block me." The other woman's staff came up. "Now if I keep this part of my staff where it is, and keep the tension against your staff, I can use it as a pivot. Then all I need to do is bring the back of my staff forward, whilst I'm turning it, to sweep your legs from under you like so."

"Ouch, that hurts!" said Shandra, flat on her back.

"Yes, now imagine I was using a sword. You'd be bruised _and_ bleeding." She helped Shandra onto her feet. "Another way to knock an opponent to the ground is by placing the back end of your staff on the ground behind their foot, at an angle. Now if you strike at me, I duck like this, then step forward through your defence where you can't swing at me. You take a step back, so that I'm out of your personal space, and you trip over my staff."

"Is it too late for me to learn magic?" sighed Shandra, standing up and dusting off her trousers.

"Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it. I want you to practice what I've shown you." Kail tossed her staff to Neeshka, who caught it and took her place. Then she took some of her rations and sat by Sand, so that she could watch Shandra and Neeshka practice.

"One must wonder what you hope to accomplish with this," said Sand, gesturing at the mock fight. She shrugged.

"I hope to make her into a survivor," she said. "It's what my mentor did for me. Perhaps I can even make up for the difficulties she's had since she met me."

"Yes, trouble _does_ seem to follow you around," he replied. "It's quite fascinating, really. I mean, who would have thought that those shards would be part of a broken githyanki silver sword, or that you have one lodged inside your chest? Duncan told me all about it," he said.

"And how did they manage to rope you into helping me?" she asked with a smile.

"Let us just say that Lord Nasher is not above a little blackmail, then the need arises." She nodded, and noticed Grobnar sidling up as unobtrusively as possible.

"What's up?" she asked the Gnome. Stood with his hands behind his back, he managed to convey both pride and guilt at the same time.

"Oh, I just came to give you something. I hope you like it," he said, handing her something that looked like nothing she had seen before in her life. She turned it over, examining it from all angles.

"Thank you, Grobnar," she said. "But what does it do?"

"Why, it's my new improved Rapid-fire Accu-aim Mini Pneumatic Crossbow! Look, you take ten of these small bolts," he said, removing some bolts from out of a bag; she noticed that they were smaller than most bolts -- and he fitted them into the ten small holes that were spaced out in a circle around a central barrel. Then he handed it to her. "Now first you must remove the safety catch... I put that there so you don't accidentally shoot yourself or your friends, it really is a very sensitive piece of equipment... you can remove the safety catch with your thumb... yes, that's it, you've got the idea. Next you take aim, maybe at a tree or something that isn't likely to bleed, for the time being. Then you pull the trigger which releases the string, which in turn releases the pressurised air and fires the bolts with unerring precision towards your target! Yes, jolly good," he added as she pulled the trigger. All ten bolts sped forward and imbedded themselves into a tree trunk.

"It's certainly very powerful," she said. "I'm sure that if the first three bolts don't kill, the other seven will."

"Of course, of course. Now when you want to reload, all you have to do is place the bolts in the holes, pull back the string, and that will automatically fill the barrel with pressurised air again. It's so that when you run out of throwing knives you don't have to jump into combat with Sir Khelgar and Sir Casavir. It will help to keep you safe!" He handed her the bag he was holding. "Here, these are the bolts I made for it. I think you'll probably get through quite a lot of them. Now if you'll excuse me, Shandra seems to be in quite a bit of pain. I think I better bring her a cold towel."

"Thanks again, Grobnar!" she said, touched that he cared so much about her safety that he designed a new weapon for her.

"Please, do not wave that thing at me," said Sand, leaning back from the crossbow.

"Don't worry, it's not loaded," she assured him.

"Still, I am sure it is quite capable of exploding and doing a fair amount of damage _without_ being full of sharp ammunition." She put the crossbow into her pack and watched her friends around the campfire. Grobnar was placing a wet towel against Shandra's shoulder, and Neeshka was making comforting gestures at the other woman. Elanee was staring into the fire as if it held all the secrets of the world, and Casavir was deep in conversation with Khelgar. Bishop was lying back on his blanket with his arms behind his head, though she doubted he was sleeping. Qara was sulkily eating some of her rations... only the Gods knew what was making her miserable this time. She was probably finding the outdoors too full of nature, or something inane like that.

"How long until we're in Port Llast?" she asked Sand.

"Tomorrow afternoon, I suspect," he said. "And after that, Ember. There we shall find what _truly_ happened, and hopefully find the means to clear your name."


	40. Gathering Evidence

_40. Gathering Evidence_

"Ah, and here we are in the illustrious Port Llast. Watch where you step... you might get some of the local culture on your boots."

"Gods, Sand, you hold your nose so high it's a wonder you don't wear a hat on it," said Shandra irritably.

"I don't even know what that means, my dear, but I'm sure as far as your local expressions go, it's quite quaint -- and charmingly ignorant," he replied with a smile.

"Enough you two, we have to gather information," she said.

"We should find Haeromos as quickly as we can," said Sand. "He can grant us acces to Ember and hopefully we can find some clues there."

"Asking some of the locals couldn't hurt, either. After we speak to Haeromos, of course," said Shandra.

"Agreed," said Sand. "They may have seen something, and as long as we use simple words, we may be able to get information out of them. I'll try to sort through what we find as we discover it... and I'll let you know when I think we have enough evidence to bring this to trial."

"Alright," said Kail. "Glad to have you along."

"The pleasure is all mine," said Sand. "As exceptional as my skills are, it is good to see them put to good use."

"Maybe we should split up," said Casavir. "We can question more people that way."

"That's a good idea," said Shandra, flashing a smile at the paladin. "There's a tavern further down the main street... we could all meet up there in an hour or two."

"Alright," said Kail. "I appreciate it." Khelgar and Neeshka went off together, as did Casavir and Elanee. The others remained with Kail.

"I think we can find Haeromos this way," said Sand, leading them down the cobbled street. He stopped before a large house, and had a quiet word with the guards. "It would seem that Haeromos is home, and that we may speak with him." She nodded, and allowed him to open the door for her. Everybody else piled in behind her.

Once inside, they found Haeromos easily enough. He was waiting for them in his office.

"I'm surprised you have the courage to show your face here. A lot of people here had friends in Ember. If they find out who you are..." he said threateningly.

"I'm not responsible for what happened, and I'm here to clear my name," she said firmly.

"You're free to conduct your business here, but you'll be watched," he told her. "If you have questions, ask them now. I'm a busy man."

"What happened at Ember?" she asked him.

"Innocents slaughtered, the village burned to the ground... all done by you. My only regret is that Ember falls under Luskan jurisdiction, not mine."

"Why are you so certain it was me?"

"There was a witness to the attack," he replied. "You were described in great detail."

"I'd like to speak to the witness," she said, feeling her hopes rise. Surely whoever survived must be mistaken.

"Out of the question," said Haeromos. "She's been through enough, and besides, you won't like what she has to say."

"I need to speak with _all_ the witnesses, no matter what they say about me," she told him. He stood still for a moment, assessing her with his gaze.

"Very well. You may question the witness, but you shall do it in _my_ presence. Bring the girl here," he said to his guards. A few moments later a familiar face appeared before them.

"Shandra? Shandra, is that you?" the woman asked.

"Alaine! You survived... thank the gods!" said Shandra.

"Shandra! It was horrible! They butchered everyone!" The woman's face was grimy, and her eyes were red from crying.

"Alaine, it's alright... shhhh. Look, I've brought people to help. We'll get to the bottom of thi-"

"You!" said Alaine, seeing Kail for the first time. "Shandra, its's... it's her! Why would you bring her here?"

"I'm not responsible for what happened at Ember," she told Alaine.

"I saw you murder those people," said Alaine, her voice thick with hatred and fear.

"No, Alaine, it's not true," said Shandra.

"I know what I saw!" cried Alaine. "They had no weapons... some even surrendered, but she... she..."

"We're here to help you, not hurt you," she said, trying to comfort the woman. Admittedly, comforting emotional people was not one of her strong points. She gestured helplessly at Shandra.

"That's right, Alaine," said the other woman. "We're here to help, alright?"

"It was trade season," said Alaine quietly, almost as if recounting the story to herself to be sure of the facts. "The shipments into Ember had fallen off, so I decided to trade alone the South Roads. When I came back to Ember, I heard the screams and saw the smoke. I left my wagon and went into town. That's when I saw the bodies... I saw her kill the quartermaster while he was on his knees, begging for his life."

"You saw this woman, here, do the killing blow?" asked Sand. "And was it _just_ her? And where did she..."

"Sand!" hissed Shandra.

"We don't have all year, girl, nor do I have the patience when the trail of these killers grows colder," he replied.

"There were others, but I didn't see them closely. I ran as hard as I could to Port Llast. And they took me in," continued Alaine. "But you _did_ do it!" she said, her gaze snapping up to Kail.

"Or someone that looked the part. There are _many_ magics that can cloak one's appearance... even allow one to change shape," mused Sand.

"I know what I saw," said Alaine, shaking her head.

"Don't you think it's a possibility that it was someone else, disguised as me?" said Kail as gently as possible.

"I... suppose it's possible, but... I don't know. I just don't know," said Alaine.

"Well, thanks for considering it, at least," she said.

"You're... welcome." said Alaine, sounding somewhat surprised. "Is there anything else you need from me?"

"Who else was there besides me?" she asked. "Were any of my companions there?"

"You had about a dozen of your friends with you... but, I don't recognise anyone with you now."

"A dozen you say?" asked Sand. "Interesting. Do go on."

"So you didn't see a dwarf? A gnome? A half-demon girl?" Kail asked.

"Well... no. I believe they were all human."

"Well, considering that those two... and the gnome... count for a good portion of us, that might seed some doubt," said Sand.

"But, you could have just hired others," said Alaine.

"Yes, my dear," Sand replied, "but as your hesitation suggests, why would anyone do that, when they have trusted allies who would follow one anywhere, despite their common sense? Eh, no offence," he added to the group.

"How did you manage to get away if you got close enough to identify me?" Kail asked Alaine.

"I... don't know. I just started running. I guess they didn't notice me."

"You were lucky, hmm?" said Sand. "Or perhaps they _let_ you escape?"

"That's all I needed to know," she said. "Thanks for your help, Alaine."

"I'm sorry to have put you through this, Alaine," said Haeromos. "Guard, please see that she reaches her quarters safely."

"Listen to me..." whispered Sand, "if we can get her to work for us, her story of tears will sway the court in our favour."

"Alaine's not some tool, Sand... she's just survived the massacre of her town... which someone caused to get to _us_," said Shandra.

"Girl, if we do not use your friend, the Luskans will. And they will use her testimony to kill our friend Kail, here," Sand explained. "So please dispense with your convenient morality. Either _we_ use her, or _they_ do."

"Then we should use her," she told the pair. "At least we know that if _we_ use her, we won't be threatening her... I bet the Luskans wouldn't extend the same courtesy."

"Fine, whatever it takes," said Shandra. "When you and Sand get done stepping all over the little people to get what you want, be sure to remind yourselves what you were fighting for."

"I thought I was fighting to save me from being tortured and killed by Luskan... how about you, Sand?" she asked innocently.

"Yes, that does seem to ring a bell with me too," he replied.

"I bet my offer's looking better and better all the time, eh wildcat?" Bishop grinned.

"I could just torch the Luskan ambassador for you," said Qara. "That would put quite a hole in their defence."

"My, isn't this saddening?" said Grobnar. "To choose between the lesser or two evils... to use a woman to help our defence, or to be tortured and maimed before being brutally killed." Kail sighed. This wasn't going to be as easy as she first thought.

"What do you know of a man named Black Garius?" she asked Haeromos.

"A Luskan archmage of some power. Not someone you want to cross. Like many of the Arcane Brotherhood, Black Garius aspires to rule, regardless of what harm it may cause."

"I think you will find that attitude common amonst most of the Hosttower," said Sand.

"What worries me is that he may succeed," replied Haeromos.

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

"He's amassing power at a pace I dislike. I suspect his brothers are beginning to grow wary of him."

"What makes you think so?"

"Followers flock to his side like vultures to a battlefield. Two in particular keep me awake at night."

"Which two?" she asked.

"The woman Torio Claven, and that giant Lorne."

"Ah, and so the pretty little circle reveals itself," said Sand.

"Torio you might know as the Luskan ambassador to Neverwinter. A treacherous snake, that one. The other one Lorne, lacks Torio's guile, but compensates for it with brute force. He's a savage fighter, and extremely good with a blade. I suspect he handles most of Garius' dirty work," said Haeromos. Something about the name 'Lorne' tickled the back of Kail's mind, but she ignored it. She didn't have time for anything but proving her innocence right now.

"Thank you. We'll be going," she said. He merely grunted, and waved for his guards to escort them back to the streets.

o - o - o - o - o

"Get this," said Neeshka. She and Khelgar were stood outside the tavern, waiting for everybody to arrive. "A merchant here, Haljal, said that some guy named Elgun claims to have been in Ember at the time of the attack, and claims to have seen everything that happened."

"And the merchant also said that Elgun's a braggart, that he's always boasting of deeds that nobody's ever seen him do, and that he couldn't even hold a sword the right way, much less have been trying to fend off attackers at Ember," said Khelgar.

"The tavern owner also gave us some of the gossip," added Neeshka. "_He_ reckons that animals from the Duskwood may have been responsible for Ember, since they've had werewolf problems in the past. He also said that Elgun says he was at Ember, but that he doesn't believe a word the man says. Elgun's actually inside the tavern at the moment, recounting his glorious tale to the locals," she said, rolling her eyes.

"We figured we'd best wait for you before talking to him... guessed you'd want to speak to him personally," said Khelgar. Just then, Elanee and Casavir approached from further down the street.

"Did you fid anything?" Kail asked them.

"Not as such," said Casavir. "But we did come across a woman named Nya, who has asked that we sprinkle this wyrmsage," he held up a bag, "onto the bodies of the deceased when we travel to Ember. Apparently, they have not been buried, and no funeral rites given."

"She implied that the Luskans simply do not care," said Elanee.

"Alright, then let's go speak to this Elgun fellow," she said, and made her way into the tavern. It wasn't much like the Sunken Flagon... it was smaller for a start, and, surprisingly, not as clean. There were less than a dozen patrons inside the tavern, and two of them were women. It was obvious which of the men was Elgun; he was drinking, and talking loudly to a couple of men who seemed to be his audience. _A braggart,_ she thought, _just like he was described._

"I am going to listen to Elgun for a while, to see what he has to say for himself," said Sand quietly by her side. "Why don't you and your friends disperse, and see what the rest of the locals may know?" She nodded, and gestured for the others to order a drink from the bar, which Khelgar did with gusto. Looking around the room, she decided to speak to one of the women, and approached the one who was stood in front of the fire. She had the look about her of somebody familiar with the land. Before she could speak, however, Bishop nudged her aside.

"Ah, Malin," he said. "Still playing girl-of-the-wood?" The woman turned and narrowed her eyes at him.

"Bishop. I was wondering when you'd drag your sorry carcass back to Port Llast," she said coldly.

"You waited for me... I'm touched," he said. "Then again, it's not like you could have tracked me down if you wanted to."

"I take it you two know each other?" she asked.

"You could say that," said Malin with a sniff of disdain. "Liking him, however, is another matter."

"This half-elf slip of a girl here nearly got me... and herself... killed several times over while scouting the Luskan border. Impatience, incompetence... these things get scouts killed," said Bishop. "That's the trouble when you're not fully an elf... and not fully human. It's like you've always got something to prove." She shook her head at their petty bickering. _Honestly, it's like Sand and Qara,_ she thought.

"So, what's your business in Port Llast?" asked Malin, ignoring Bishop.

"I'm investigating the murders in Ember," she said.

"What's to investigate? The village is destroyed and everyone's dead. Could have been brigands, or gods know what else... but a lord's justice won't bring those villagers back to life," said Malin.

"Do you know of anyone who might have witnessed the attack on Ember?" she asked the woman.

"Maybe. Three days gone I was passing just south of the Duskwood when I spied a column of smoke. I'd say it was coming from the ridge, just above Duskwood Grove. Could have been some traveler stopping for the night, or it could be that someone's made a home for themselves. There's a cave up there, and a good spot for a camp. Either way, the Grove is an hour's walk from Ember... maybe less. Whoever's up there may have seen what happened in the village."

"Do you know where this Grove is?" she asked Bishop. He nodded.

"I'll take you there, when we've finished in Ember," he said.

"Be careful if you go to the Grove," said Malin. "It's gone strange of late. Used to be deer there, and plentiful hunting. Now, something's driven all the deer away. Nothing but ferocious beasts... and things even stranger... for miles around. Even a ranger can find trouble in the Grove... you'd do better to stay away."

"I'm sure she'll be fine with me," said Bishop. "Your skills always did leave a lot to be desired, Malin."

"Well, thanks for the advice, Malin, we'll leave you to your drink," said Kail. The woman nodded, and watched them walk away. Kail turned towards the second woman, who was sat at the bar. "I don't suppose you know her, too?" she asked Bishop.

"Never seen her before in my life," he said. "Shame... she looks a mite warmer than Malin."

"Excuse me..." she said, touching the woman's arm to get her attention. The woman jumped, spilling ale on the bar.

"Many pardons," she said, "but I have a lot on my mind."

"Is something wrong?" Kail asked.

"My name is Calindra. My partner, Bradbury... he is two days late for our meeting," the woman replied. "He is a _northerner_ and a fool. But... he is good with pick and wedge, and has brought much silver to my house. I was planning on taking him to Amn with me, but he heard tell of valuable ore deposits in Duskwood."

"You two are miners?"

"I am an _artisan_," said Calindra. "And a master trader. Strength can mine a quarry, but wit is needed to fully utilise it."

"Aye," said Khelgar from further down the bar. "It's something humans have never understood. But at least you're making an effort, something most humans don't bother to do."

"What does Bradbury look like?" Kail asked.

"He is hard to miss... his hair is bright orange, like flameblooms in the desert. If you happen to see him, will you just tell him that I'm still waiting?" Kail nodded, leaving Calindra in peace. It was obvious the woman didn't know anything about Ember. She made her way to Sand, who was still listening to Elgun.

"...I had just lined up my arrow on the deer when I heard a growl," Elgun was saying. "I turned, and there was the biggest, blackest wolf I'd ever seen -- coming right at me! Lucky for me, I had my enchanted dagger with me. With its jaws only inches away from my throat, I lunged out, and with a quick twist of the blade, I cut out the beast's heart!"

"Ooooh!" said one of his listeners.

"I was a bit tired after all this fun in the Duskwood," continued Elgun, "so I decided to head to Ember to rest up. That's when I smelled the smoke. I ran there as quickly as I could and what did I see? The village in flames, the defenseless people being slaughtered by cruel and evil men. There were dozens of attackers, heavily armed, aided by foul creatures... demons, I think."

"So what did you do?" asked another Elgun fan.

"The only thing I could do -- I attacked. I cut down two of them before they knew I was there, but the others, seeing what a threat I was, ganged up on me." Looking at his thin body and beer gut, dressed in old, stained clothes, she doubted that _anyone_ would consider this man a threat. "I slew several before one of them snuck up from behind and knocked me unconscious. The enemy must have thought me dead, because when I woke up, they were gone."

"Yet he's hardly got a scratch on him," said Sand. "A tale well worth its weight in words, no doubt."

"And what of Ember?" another patron prompted Elgun.

"Sadly, I was too late. Everyone was dead. There was little more I could do, so I returned to Port Llast."

"At least you tried, Elgun," the man consoled him.

"The man is clearly a fool," said Sand, "but it is his audience that concerns me. Such tales could be used against us. We would question Elgun and see about the _facts_ of his tale." She nodded, and together they approached him.

"I haven't seen you around before," said Elgun. "Just passing through?"

"I spoke to a survivor from Ember," she said, cutting right to the point. "She said there were only about a dozen attackers, and nothing was mentioned about demons."

"A survivor? Well... erm... that's... that's good news!" he stammered. "With all the smoke, I'm _sure_ I could have been mistaken. Tricks on the eyes and all that. Ha ha."

"Another thing... you said you were hunting deer in the Duskwood? Malin over there says there's no deer to be found there at all."

"I... I saw plenty. I don't know what she's talking about," he said, clearly panicking.

"And Haljal, the merchent, said you can barely handle a blade... yet you managed to kill 'many' of these attackers? I supppose their bodies will still be there when I travel to Ember?" she asked.

"What? He's wrong! I didn't need his training! I learned to fight... somewhere else." He gave a sigh of defeat. "Look, it's obvious that you know I wasn't there. What do you want from me?"

"I want to know what really happened," she said. He nodded glumly.

"I'd heard there was a dryad in the Duskwood, so I figured... well, you know how dryads are. With men, I mean."

"Oh, Gods, how predictable," said Shandra.

"What?" asked Grobnar. "What does he mean?" The Gnome could be a little naïve at times.

"I'll tell you later, Grobnar," she said.

"I didn't get too far in before the wolves chased me away, so I decided to stop in Ember for a while," said Elgun. "Then I saw the smoke from Ember, so I didn't dare head _that_ way. By the time I got back to Port Llast, people were already talking about the massacre. No one around here seemed to know what really happened, so I figured I might as well... embellish my involvement. No one's getting hurt, right?"

"You're doing damage just by spreading that story," she told him.

"Oh, please. All the harm's already been done," he said.

"The murderers are still loose, and you're a 'witness'. Do you understand _now_?" she asked.

"Oh no... I didn't even consider that." He turned to his former audience. "Uh... everyone, I have an announcement..."

"That should keep his mouth closed," said Sand. "We didn't need him spreading any more of those wild tales before the trial. Well done... shall we move on?"

"Yes... I think we should have time to get to Ember before dark, if we hurry," she said.

"Sir Casavir, what did Elgun mean about dryads?" asked Grobnar.

"Well..." began Casavir, obviously at a loss to explain. "That is to say... I'm sure that..."

"Let's put it this way, Gnome," said Khelgar, jumping in to rescue Casavir. "Do you know what a naked woman looks like?"

"Oh yes," said Grobnar, beaming. "It just so happens that I accidentally spotted the women bathing in the river yesterday evening while I was trying to work out the kinks in my Telescopic Night-Time Vision Enhancers." Casavir gave him an unreadable blank look.

"You _what?!_" said Qara, marching up to Grobnar.

"Not to worry, I looked away as soon as I realised my error," said Grobnar. Qara's face was bright red, though with anger or embarrassment, Kail could not tell. She snickered, and Qara rounded on her.

"What, do you think it's funny that we can't even have a wash without that pervert of a Gnome spying on us? And don't think he was the only one!" she turned to the other men. "Admit it, you were all looking! You're all as bad as each other!" The look on Casavir's face was priceless, and Kail laughed out loud, while Neeshka began giggling uncontrollably.

"I can assure you, we did no such thing," said Casavir.

"And a good thing, too," said Bishop. "None of you are much to look at."

"If ye were about two feet shorter and sporting a nice comely beard, I woulda been there in a heartbeat, lass," said Khelgar.

"Personally I would rather have my eyes bathed in acid and my skin flayed off by the cruellest demons of the Hellish planes, than see _you_ without clothes on, Qara," said Sand.

"Hey Grobnar," said Neeshka between laughing and trying to catch her breath, "next time you accidentally peek, why don't you just come and join us?" Kail snorted and doubled over with laughter. Shandra and Elanee didn't seem to find it very amusing, but at least they weren't making a fuss, unlike a certain sorceress.

"Really?" said Grobnar. "Well, I wouldn't be opposed to-"

"You are _not_ serious," said Qara vehemently. "Right, that's it, I'm going to teach you a lesson you little..." Apparently there wasn't a word in Qara's vocabulary to describe what Grobnar was. Instead, she raised her hand, and a crackle of magic formed aroud her fingers.

_Click._

It was a simple, and yet somehow, very loud, click. It was the same sort of click that might be heard when the safety catch from a Rapid-fire Accu-aim Mini Pneumatic Crossbow, or _RAMP_, as Kail was coming to think of it, was removed. Qara turned her head slightly, and looked down the barrel of the crossbow. All around them, silenced reigned within the inn.

"You will slowly lower your arm, step away from the Gnome, and go outside to cool your temper," she told the sorceress. Qara did as she was told, a little _too_ slowly, but at last she was gone. Kail put the safety catch back on the RAMP and hooked the weapon through her belt, glad that she hadn't had to fire it indoors. No telling what sort of collateral damage it might do. The music began to play once more around them, and the regulars got back to their conversations. It was time to be gone from this place. This little episode wasn't doing her reputation any favours.

"Can you get everyone outside?" she asked Sand. "I just want to stay long enough to make sure than Elgun tells the truth this time." He nodded, and began ushering people out of the building. Khelgar complained when he was forced to leave his tankard, but it was the third he had managed to down. _Dwarves must run off ale,_ she grinned to herself.

It soon became obvious that the threat of death was making an honest man out of Elgun. He told his audience the true version of events, and they left in disgust. She smiled. Let that be a lesson to him; next time, pay a bard to embellish your exploits... they're less likely to make mistakes. Crossing the common room, she noticed Malin again, and feeling the need to satisfy her curiosity, she approached the ranger.

"How do you know Bishop?" she asked her.

"First," said Malin, "I have a question for you. Why is he with you? Loyalty isn't high on Bishop's list, and he doesn't help _anyone_."

"He helped us get through the Luskan border so we could rescue a friend," she admitted.

"Ah... Luskans. Bishop hates them. It's the only genuine emotion I've ever seen from him. The things he's done to them at the border..." She shivered. "That's why I couldn't travel with him anymore. But he's good, I'll give him that. Just... don't turn your back on him, alright?"

"I won't turn my back... I don't trust him either. Thanks for the warning," she said.

"Just be more careful than I was. Bishop doesn't serve anyone but himself, that's just who he is," said Malin. She nodded, and left the tavern with more to think about than when she'd gone in.


	41. Ember

_41. Ember_

As the sun travelled slowly but inexorably towards the horizon, Kail was still thinking about what she had learnt in Port Llast. The evidence she was content to leave to Sand, for now. Instead she turned her thoughts to her companions, and wondered just how much she really knew about them. Of all of her friends, she thought that she knew Neeshka the best. The thief was honest, and kept very few secrets. Next was Khelgar... she knew about his past, and about his desire to become a monk, his likes and his dislikes, and even some of his songs. Elanee was more of a mystery... although she had been more open with Kail of late, she suspected that the Elf was still carrying a great many secrets around with her. And as much as it pained her, she could not bring herself to fully trust Elanee.

Of Qara, Grobnar and Casavir, she knew very little. Grobnar was more inclined to talk about his travels, his songs and his inventions, than he was of himself. But the same could be said for any bard. They were rarely heroes in their own stories; instead they accompanied the heroes. Was that what Grobnar thought he was doing by following her? She was afraid he was sadly mistaken. She was no hero.

She had no real desire to know Qara any better. And although she had asked Casavir questions about his past, he often answered evasively, and so remained closed to her. It was not through lack of her trying, though.

Now she was putting all of her faith in Sand to get her safely through this trial, and the only thing she knew about him was that her Uncle trusted him. He may not exactly be Sand's best friend, but at least he had some trust for the wizard. Strange as it seemed, she trusted Sand almost as much as she trusted Khelgar and Neeshka, even though she barely knew him. Was it an intuitive sense that she possessed, or was it just that she liked his sarcastic personality? Hard to say.

At first she had thought that Bishop was a simple person, like Neeshka. That what you saw was what you got. That he acted on what Casavir had referred to as 'base instincts and needs'. But now she wasn't so sure. There was only one thing that she did know; she would have to ask him about it soon. Curiosity was the number one cause of death for both cats, and bards. And, as luck would have it, she got her chance when Bishop approached her a few minutes later to tell her that Ember was close by.

"You seem to have some problems with Luskan," she said as they walked side by side.

"Luskans? Don't give it much thought," he shrugged. "Most of them aren't human beings, anyway. They usually give up any shred of morality or dignity as part of the toll at the front gate."

"Why do you hate them so much?"

"Because they deserve it?" he said. "At least in Neverwinter the soldiers and thieves operate with some shred of purpose or morality. Luskan? It's not even worth hating them." He paused for a moment before continuing. "I used to be a soldier for them, and I can rightly say I didn't care much for the work. Their reward system is a double-edged blade. They tried to draft me into rougher and rougher jobs - and then they wanted to make some changes in my life. So I left, and that's it."

"It doesn't sound as simple as you make it out," she prompted.

"There's more... there was always more. And that was the problem. Sometimes you realise that the more you do, the less free you get. And I'm someone who likes their space, some room to move."

"What do you mean?"

"Ever had to do something you don't like - but there's no reason to do it exceept somebody ordered you to do it? That doesn't sit well with me. I don't follow orders, and I don't listen to any man or woman telling me what to do. I go where I want, kill who I want, do what I want. And by the hells, anyone who gets in my way better know how to run."

"So why are you with us?" she asked.

"Am I? You know why I'm along. Your Uncle called his debt due, and that's that," he replied. She paused for a minute, trying to think of another angle.

"What happened between you and Malin in Port Llast?" she asked him.

"Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no tales," he said jovially. Then his voice became scornful. "She's a scout, who couldn't find her way north along the Sword Coast if she wanted to. And yeah, she's almost gotten me killed before."

"She seemed to suggest that you've done some horrible things to Luskans. Like torture," she said, deciding to come right out with it.

"Why the sudden interest?" he asked.

"Because I'm curious," she admitted. "About why you would want to torture Luskans. I mean... just killing them I can understand... but why more?"

"Well then, forgive me if I don't engage in idle talk about my past just to satisfy other peoples' curiosity. It's not my style. What Malin said -- just words. She never knew me, and neither will you." He stomped off into the woods, not even bothering to keep quiet. She blinked at his outburst. Well, it seemed she'd touched a nerve. Funny, because she hadn't realised that he had any.

o - o - o - o - o

The familiar sight of Ember greeted Kail's eyes... well, almost familiar. The last time she had been there the houses had not been ransacked and burnt, and there hadn't been dead bodies on the floor. The smell of burnt timber and burnt flesh made her go dizzy, as a flashback of Aimee's charred corpse, and the circumstances surrounding her violent death, flooded back into her mind. She grabbed at the nearest thing -- Casavir's arm -- to steady herself.

"Are you alright, my lady?" he asked her. She nodded, and tried to swallow the bile rising in her throat. After all this time, she thought that she was past being affected like that.

"By the Gods... these villagers, they were cut down like dogs. Look at the people... none of them have weapons in their hands... there wasn't even a fight," said Khelgar. Casavir nodded sadly.

"There was no battle here, only slaughter," he confirmed.

"It's efficient," said Bishop. "Whoever did this, they took care to secure the perimeter first, then moved in. Look, you can tell from the position of the corpses. Wouldn't put it past Luskans. They usually don't bother trying to place blame elsewhere, so they may have made mistakes."

"I was just travelling through here last season," said Shandra. "There... there was the quartermaster's house... And Alaine's home... By the Gods, who could have _done_ this... these villagers, none of them were soldiers, it would have been a massacre

"My dear, it _was_ a massacre," Sand pointed out. "Come, let us see what we can find."

They walked slowly around the village. Sand made a note of every body and what position it lay in, while Bishop studied the ground around them. Whenever they came to a body, Casavir sprinkled some of the wyrmsage on them. It was said to combat the necromantic arts, preventing the deceased from rising as undead.

"Hold on a moment, look at this," said Sand, examining one of the corpses a little too closely for her liking.

"What is it?" she asked.

"This corpse is unusually discoloured, much different from the usual decay."

"Good eyes," she said, "but what does it mean?

"These wounds are superficial, not deep enough to kill. And the scent, coupled with the discolouration of the skin here and here... this man died from poison, and an unusual one at that," he explained. "You won't find it in any of the apothecaries or potion shops in Neverwinter. But it is a local favourite among several of the less friendly assassins' guilds in Luskan."

"I don't even know how you can _tell_ that," said Shandra, with an equal mixture of disgust and fascination.

"Trust me, I've seen a lot of death over the centuries," he replied, reminding them just how old he was. "Let me take a sample from the body... I think it will serve as a valuable piece of evidence. Now, I think we should keep searching for more clues. There may be other items that Ember's attackers missed in their haste."

"Oh no!" said Grobnar, hurrying towards three very small corpses. "They even killed the poor cats! Quick, Sir Casavir, bring the wyrmsage! We must sprinkle it on them too, lest they return with an army of zombie kitties!" Casavir sighed, but handed Grobnar some of the wyrmsage anyway. Some distance away, Kail found a somewhat burnt book, and picked it up to examine it. It was filled with rows and rows of incomprehensible numbers, and she wondered if it was some sort of cypher.

"It seems you've found the Quartermaster's log," said Sand, wandering over to investigate. "A little charred, but intact. Let's see..."

"He sure did keep a lot of notes," said Shandra, peering over Sand's shoulder.

"It's not as complicated as it seems," said Sand. "In fact, over the past few weeks, it doesn't look like many shipments actually came into Ember."

"Not even from Luskan?" asked Shandra. "That's odd."

"Not if Luskan knew there wouldn't be any reason to send shipments anymore," Sand mused. "Which would mean they knew the village would be destroyed. Let's save this log book for the trial and see if they can explain their curious foresight in this massacre."

They continued to search around the village in the failing light, until all of the bodies had been accounted for and consecrated with wyrmsage.

"Hold on a moment, I heard something moving in the well," said Sand.

"I heard it too," said Elanee.

"It could be one of the survivors, or one of the murderers," he replied. "I say we find out."

Kail approached the well and peered down, but saw nothing. She picked up a stone and let it drop, and it fell with a resounding _'plop'_.

"Grobnar, could you light it up for me?" she asked.

"Of course!" he said happily, and cast a spell which suspended an orb of light above his head. All she could see below was water.

"I'm going down," she said.

"My lady, you cannot go alone!" said Casavir at once. "What if Sand spoke true, and one of the murderers is down there? At least allow me to go first." She smiled, and rapped her knuckles on his armour.

"First you will sink, then you will rust," she said, then sighed. "Anyone who wants to come will have to take off whatever armour they're wearing and carry it above their heads... unless they want it to be ruined."

"I always knew you wanted an excuse to get me out of my clothes, wildcat," grinned Bishop, already taking off his leathers. Neeshka followed suit, and soon everybody but she, Qara and Sand, was stripped to their underclothes.

"One more thing," she said. "I think Grobnar and Khelgar should wait here until we know how deep the water is. I don't want you guys in above your heads and weighted down by armour." Khelgar grumbled, but eventually acceded the point. Soon Casavir was being lowered down into the well by she, Bishop and Shandra. It wasn't that all three were needed to support his weight; more that he didn't trust Bishop to do the job alone.

"It's barely more than knee-high," called Casavir from the depths. "Khelgar and Grobnar should be fine, but the water is very cold. Anybody who doesn't want to shiver should stay up there." In the end, nobody wanted to stay behind, so they were lowered one by one into the freezing water. Grobnar, with his source of light, went first, followed by Khelgar, who was surprisingly heavy for his height, then Neeshka, Elanee, Qara, Sand and then Shandra.

"After you, wildcat," said Bishop when there was only the two of them left.

"And then who will lower _you_ down?" she asked.

"I will climb down. It's only unfit paladins and their hundred pounds of shiny armour that need lowering."

She grinned, took hold of the rope, and lowered herself into the hole before he had chance to pull the bucket back up. There, she abseiled down quickly and dropped into the water, splashing the others. As Casavir had said, the water was cold, but she also found it invigorating, and she had to resist the urge to start a water fight.

Bishop was only a few seconds behind her -- it seemed that he didn't want to be outdone by a simple bard -- and they continued forward, with Casavir leading the way. He stopped suddenly a few paces from the well opening.

"I can hear splashing ahead," he said. "There is somebody there." Kail edged forward, and everyone followed, light and all.

"I knew I'd see you again, and you're finally here," said a familiar voice. She hurried forward and saw that it was the boy who she had met on her last trip to Ember.

"Marcus? It is Marcus, right?" she asked, and he nodded. "Are you alright?"

"I'm hungry, but I'm okay," he said.

"What happened to the village?" she asked.

"Men came. When I saw them, I _knew_ they were the ones who would kill everyone. There was no place for me to hide, except in the well. I watched them kill all the people. I... didn't want to, but it felt important for me to see what happened, so I could tell you."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," she said. "Who did this?"

"There were twelve of them, I think. They had dark armour, and... one of them looked llike you. I knew he wasn't, though."

"And how did you know that?" asked Sand.

"When I really focused on her, she started to look different. I saw a man who was big and mean, like an ogre, but bald."

"Hmm, this testimony could prove useful..." said Sand thoughtfully. "We should take him with us back to Neverwinter when we're done here."

"You've been down here all this time?" she asked the boy.

"Yes. I knew you would be coming here, so I waited."

"I'll take you to Port Llast, you'll be safe there," she said.

"Don't worry about me, I can make it on my own," he replied.

"Alright, but be careful."

"I'll wait for you at the Alliance Arms Inn. Falgor always has some extra food, and places at his hearth," said Marcus. "Oh, I almost forgot. Here's the knife you gave me." He handed the knife back to Bishop. "It helped me survive down here, but I won't need it anymore."

"About time I got it back," Bishop said, slipping the knife into the belt of his trousers with his free hand.

"Bye!" said Marcus, and made his way back towards the opening of the well.

"Can I see that?" she asked Bishop, pointing toward his belt.

"I don't think this is the time or the place for that sort of thing, not with all your friends around," he said suggestively.

"I meant your knife, and you know it."

"Why?" he asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"Because I would like to see it."

"Alright... but I want it back," he said, giving the knife to her. She ran her hands along the blade and closed her eyes, trying to _feel_ the energy of the weapon in her hands. Then she smiled.

"Marcus was right, it _has_ got power... now," she said. "There's some sort of enchantment on it."

"Ooh, let me see!" said Grobnar, and she handed him the knife.

"I want to see too," said Qara. "If that little shrimp of a boy can do something like that, so can I."

After everybody with even a small amount of magical ability had examined the weapon, she handed it back to Bishop.

"You're all crazy," he said. "A knife's a knife. Now that we've got the boy sorted, can we get back up? It's cold down here, and it smells of goblins."

"It does not smell of goblins," said Qara. "You're just making that up to scare us."

"No lass, I can smell it too!" said Khelgar. "There must be a network of goblin caves down here. I say we look around, then root the devils out!"

"Over here, I found a door!" said Grobnar. He had travelled unseen down the chamber, and was stood on a patch of dry land. They all followed him to the door, and began putting their armour back on.

Kail led the way, and they followed her down the thankfully dry cave. After a few moments a trio of goblins stepped out from the shadows, brandishing crossbows.

"Look out, a gnome!" said one. "Wake up, wake up! Stay back or we kill you!" it gibbered at them.

"I'm not looking for trouble, but I _will_ defend myself," she told it.

"We already kill one intruder today. You go away now, or we kill you too!" said the goblin.

"Who was this other intruder?" she asked.

"He was human, very fast, with sharp weapons. He kill some of tribe, but we kill him, too. Glek take his skull for trophy. Stick shiny stones were eyes used to be."

"We should find out more about this 'intruder'," said Sand. "He could have been one of the ones who attacked Ember."

"Will you let me speak to Glek?" she asked the goblin.

"Why? Intruder was your friend?"

"Actually, he may have been an enemy."

"Hmm... you wait here. We see if Glek want to talk to you." The goblins scurried off down the tunnel, and she heard feint goblin voices speaking in the distance. Then their new friend was back. "Glek says you can come insde. He not think you friends with other intruder. But that not mean we trust you. We watching you close..." He turned and led them forward, deeper into the cave. For an instant, Kail wondered what in the Hells she was doing. Then she remembered that she was wanted for murder that she didn't commit, and she would go to any length to prove her innocence.

"Ulip tells me you wish to know about the intruder who came to our caves," said Glek, a slightly larger goblin than the others.

"It's possible he helped commit a crime which I'm blamed for," she said to him.

"He was a most vicious warrior. We would have been slaughtered were it not for our magic."

"Magic?" piped up Sand.

"Even the weakest of my tribe knows simple spells -- a gift from our sacred Glowstone."

"This Glowstone... what is it?" asked Sand.

"As I said, it is a sacred artifact of my tribe. We discovered it in these caverns shortly after we fled here."

"You fled here?" she asked. "Who were you running from?"

"Our old tribe. We were prospering, yet our chieftain insisted on making war against other tribes."

"No surprise there," said Khelgar.

"I proposed that we live peacefully. The chieftain... disagreed. So I gathered what followers I could and deserted my tribe. Naturally, my former tribe attempted to hunt us down. It was futile to stand and fight, so we ran. Eventually we found this place, and we have been here ever since."

"Can we see your Glowstone?" she asked.

"It is in another cavern not far from here. You may look at it, but you will not touch it," said Glek.

"Can't we hold it, just a little?" asked Grobnar. "You see, and this is a fascinating tale, I actually had a Glowstone like yours at one point, but I los-"

"Attempt to take it and we will destroy you."

"About that intruder," she said before the situation could turn ugly, "Where is his body now?"

"In ashes. Little of him remains. I kept his skull, his weapons, and his ring for myself."

"It's a shame there's no body," said Sand. "But the ring may prove useful." She nodded.

"I need that ring," she told Glek. "May I have it?"

"My tribe earned this treasure with our blood. If you desire it, you must do the same," said Glek.

"How about we bleed the Gnome for you, will that be enough?" asked Khelgar.

"Oh really, Sir Khelgar," said Grobnar. "You should know that Gnomes actually bleed very little. We have small bodies, you see, which means the heart does not need to pump the blood around the body quite as hard... there's less distance for it to travel. No, the larger a person, the more blood you can get out of them, and at a better rate. The largest person here is Sir Casavir, even without all his armour, but I don't think it would be very nice of us to bleed him."

"Thank you for that, Grobnar," said Casavir.

"What do you want us to do?" Kail asked Glek.

"We share these caverns with a number of giant spiders. They, too, possess magic, and are formidable foes. They have recently built a nest in one of the adjoining caves... too close to us, by far. Destroy them all, and the ring is yours," said the goblin chief.

"Consider it done," she said, and they set out deeper into the caves.

o - o - o - o - o

It didn't take them long to get rid of the seven or eight spiders. Though they were bigger and more intelligent than most of their spider relatives, they simply stood no chance against seasoned fighters. Even Shandra managed to take one down; she was learning fast. Casavir had begun training her too.

"Uh, guys, there's the biggest spider _ever_ down here!" called Neeshka from down another corridor. Kail hurried over, with everyone else behind her. The spider was truly massive, but, oddly, it did not attack them on sight. And there was definite intelligence in its multi-faceted eyes. It scurried towards them but stopped, just out of striking distance.

"Uh-oh," said Shandra. "Looks like we've made another 'friend'... and it's a big one."

"My, look at those fangs!" said Grobnar appreciatively. "Hate to see how much venom those could churn out. Probably enough to kill a horse!"

"That spider is unusually large," said Elanee, winning Kail's personal award for stating the obvious. "And its movements are odd. It looks like it's studying us."

"Looks like our big friend here is smart enough to figure our we're more trouble than dinner's worth," said Bishop.

"If it does not trouble us, I say we do not trouble it," said Casavir.

"It's not advancing... which means I can't get around for a backstab," said Neeshka. "It sure is acting strange."

"It may not be attacking, but what I wouldn't give for a huge book to crush it flat right now," said Sand. The spider seemed to be observing them with an unnatural intelligence. Then it scratched a symbol in the ground with its foreleg.

"This spider is _highly_ intelligent," said Sand, reassessing his view of the creature. "Why, those glyphs are close enough to writing to... my, this is fascinating."

"It certainly is fine penmanship for an arachnid," Grobnar said.

"I want to sell this thing to the next carnival troupe we encounter," said Neeshka. "We'd make a fortune in gold." The spider, having completed the first symbol, then went on to scratch several more.

"I'm not sure what you're trying to say," Kail told it.

"It... may be an outcast," said Elanee. "And it looks hungry... but not for us." The spider clacked its mandibles and scratched another series of marks in the dirt.

"If we find you some food, we'll be back," said Kail, prodding her friends back down the corridor.

They stopped on the way back to look at the Glowstone within its own cavern. The whole chamber was bathed in an eerie green light. It seemed... unnatural.

"Oh my word," said Grobnar. "Why, it _is_ the Glowstone I lost. My, it sure has made a nice little home for itself. And the things it's done... my word! I'm so proud of it."

"Hey! Why you here? You turn around, go away!" said one of the goblin guards.

"Oh, come now," said Grobnar. "We're just visiting it. It's been so long since I held it in my arms."

"Looks like this goblin's got _some_ magical talent... but he's outmatched," said Qara.

"Be careful," said Sand. "We don't know what powers the stone may have given this one."

"Oh _please_, Sand. He barely looks as powerful as you -- which means he won't last three heartbeats if he tries anything," said Qara

"Throw caution to the winds if you will, but I think some patience here would be wise," Sand cautioned.

"Sand's right," said Kail. Qara just sighed. They made a quick tour around the cave, and Grobnar stopped by a pool of glowing water to collect a sample.

"This glowing water... you know, it might be just the substance I need to inscribe the proper runes on Mister Pointy's outer plates to get him moving again," said the Gnome.

"Mister Pointy?" she asked, already regretting it.

"Oh, the Construct. I thought he deserved a name,"

"Mister. Pointy."

"It seemed as good a name as any," said Grobnar.

"You're never naming anything ever again," she said. "Anyway, we're done here. Let's get back to Glek. The sooner we get that ring, the sooner we can get back to the surface and start drying off."

o - o - o - o - o

Kail sat in front of the camp fire, letting the warmth wash over her. Her clothes were still damp, but she was dry enough for comfort, and not likely to catch a cold from it. In her hands, she turned over the ring that the goblin chief had given her. It was the exact twin of the one she had taken from the corpse of one of the men who had attacked her in Solace Glade. The Circle of Blades. Luskan Assassins.

"Well at least that dunking wasn't a complete waste of time," said Qara, taking some of the meat from the spit. They were camped not far away from Ember, because Kail hadn't wanted to enter the Duskwood at night, and they all needed a chance to dry and to rest. Whilst they had been making camp they had disturbed a wild boar, which Neeshka had shot. She seemed more surprised about that than anyone, admitting that she'd never really been into hunting. Nevertheless, the hog provided a decent meal, and a nice change from rations.

"I am sure that the Duskwood will herald many more secrets to be uncovered tomorrow," said Sand confidently.

"Surely the evidence alone will be enough to clear Kail's name," said Casavir. "Perhaps there will be no need for a full trial."

"Oh, you can expect the Luskan ambassador to drag this on for as long as possible," Sand replied.

Kail became aware that someone was sneaking up behind her, but she remained as still as possible, straining her hearing to try and recognise the footsteps. It was harder, out here, without the benefit of a wooden floor underfoot. Several of her companions were out of visual range, away from the firelight. Shandra and Grobnar were collecting firewood, and Elanee had gone to check out an injured deer that she sensed and wanted to heal. Khelgar was also somewhere out there, answering a call of nature, while Neeshka tended the cooking boar.

"About your questions before," whispered a voice just behind her ear. "Are you still curious?" She took several deep breaths, staring at the fire while she considered the question. It was an innocent enough thing for Bishop to ask... or was it? She sensed something underlying his words... a hidden challenge. He was testing her. But why? She could just say no, and forget about everything. Did she really need to know why he tortured Luskans. Did she want to know? But a challenge... she'd never been able to back down from a challenge. It was her greatest strength, and weakness.

"Yes," she said, trying to make her heart beat more slowly, trying to ignore the adrenaline that was creeping into her bloodstream.

"Then grab your weapons and come with me. We're not the only people in the forest tonight. I'm taking you hunting. As Lucas says... _to understand a thing, you must become a thing_. And there's only one way for you to understand what I do."


	42. You Can’t Imagine it

_42. You Can't Imagine it Unless You've been There_

She did not speak as she followed him through the forest. Talking would have been wrong. You didn't sell your soul and then carry on chatting as if nothing had changed. But had she, really? Sold her soul? Her heart pounded in her chest, the sound of blood rushing through her ears as she considered it. What was she doing? Why was she here? Oh gods, what had she gotten herself into? She slowed her thoughts, willing her pulse to steady itself. She could not let her conscience take over now. She could not panic. She needed to remain calm, in control, clear-headed. As she stepped silently through the dry leaves that littered the forest floor, she tried to look at things objectively, to step outside of herself and look in at her motives.

Why was she here? She didn't know. Panic tried to grip her heart again, but she fought it, battling her fear for control. Calm. Collected. Why was she here? Because she was accused of a crime that she hadn't committed. Because there was a chance that she might be able to get some answers out of this. Because there was a chance that she could clear her name. A chance that she could right a wrong, undo an injustice, seek vengeance on behalf of the dead folk of Ember.

A small part of her mind scoffed at her thoughts. _You don't care about justice, or about vengeance for Ember. And you don't believe that torturing Luskan scouts will get you those answers._ Then why was she following Bishop like some mindless zombie? Was it merely because she wanted to prove that she was tough enough, strong enough, to handle anything that he could handle? Was that it? Bishop could bring himself to torture Luskans, so she wanted to show that she could too? It was a pathetic reason. She didn't care about hurting people, about unnecessarily causing pain, suffering. Yes, she killed, and she did so without remorse, but only when she was attacked. Only enemies who had weapons in their hands and were a direct threat. Luskan scouts, although undoubtedly not very nice people, hadn't done anything to her. They weren't a danger.

She examined the man stalking silently in front of her. The moon-shadows of the trees played across his body, the dark brown armour he wore helping him to blend in to the gloom of the forest. He wore no cloak, and neither did she -- cloaks were a hindrance to somebody trying to be stealthy. They caught on undergrowth, restricted movement, and painted a target on you -- and his head swivelled from side to side at small sounds from the trees, his golden-brown eyes narrowed as if he could pierce the darkness and see what was out there. His bow, carried low, had an arrow nocked ready, and he sniffed the air frequently.

With the sight of the bow, a cold realisation dawned on her; this was real. The game, if that's what it was, had just changed. The rules had been altered while her back was turned. She had, from the moment she had stood up from the warm glow of the camp fire and followed the ranger into the dark night of the unknown forest, been clinging to the hope that he would tell her to go back, tell her that she shouldn't be here. She would have given anything to see him turn around, give her that disarming grin, and say "Well played, wildcat. Now lets go back to the others." But she knew, now, that that wasn't going to happen. He expected to find Luskans. He wasn't just keeping an eye out for them, he was actively hunting them. And when he found them, he would expect her to torture them.

She didn't have to, of course. She could refuse. Could tell him that she didn't want to be a part of this. He would ridicule her, mock her, accuse her of being weak, of cowardice. She didn't care. But... what did she **really** feel about it? With some small measure of horror, she realised that she didn't _know_ if she was capable of torture. She had never had to think about it before. She wouldn't know until it came down to the act. And, worse; she was curious. Curious about torture. Curious about if she could do it. Curious about why_ he _did it.

Well, she would soon find out just what she was capable of doing. Even if she refused to take part in the torture, she would still have to watch Bishop doing it. She glanced again at the ranger, and felt bile rising in her throat. For some reason, the thought of watching somebody else torture a person was worse than the thought of torturing somebody herself. It felt... wrong. Like watching something private. Personal. Intimate.

She pushed down the queasiness in her stomach and followed the man in front of her further into the darkness of the night.

o - o - o - o - o

The scouts were sharp, he'd give them that. The first, hidden high amongst the leaves of the trees, had only just toppled from his perch when the rest of them sprang into action. They realised that they were being shot at and quickly adapted their tactics, coming into close quarters to render his bow less effective. He saw at least one go down with small throwing knives sticking out from his throat, but was too busy concentrating to pay much attention to the woman with him. There was only one scout left, taking cover behind the trunk of a tree. Kail hadn't taken a shot at the man yet, and he hoped she wouldn't; she was usually very accurate, and she was new to this. She wouldn't realise that this man, this last scout, was not to be killed. They needed him alive.

Bishop suppressed a snarl of irritation when his arrow thudded into the tree. He hated long, drawn-out fire fights. He hated stalemates. He needed to end this quickly. Taking to the shadows, he silently crept around the tree, got a sight on the scout's body, and aimed for the Luskan's sword-arm. A disabling shot, not a killing one. But as he loosed his arrow the Luskan turned, and instead of hitting his upper arm, the arrow thudded into his chest, piercing his heart and dropping him instantly.

Releasing his bowstring, he growled a curse under his breath. Five dead Luskans. Not a bad night's work, but not what he had wanted just yet. And now they would have to start the hunt again, something that he was loathe to do. The woman had been silent so far, and he suspected that she was getting cold feet. After this fiasco she would probably refuse to continue. She would demand that he lead her back to the others, so that she could join them in their group sing-alongs and the sharing of stories around the campfire. Not that she ever shared stories about herself -- she was remarkably tight-lipped, for a bard.

When he returned to the woman he found something he wasn't expecting; she was fighting hand-to-hand against a Luskan. But this one was no scout. He was different. Before Bishop could even think, the Luskan assassin picked up a fallen tree branch and swung it at the bard. She ducked, slashed at him with her daggers and missed, and then rolled to the side as the assassin brought his impromptu club around for another swing.

What happened next happened so quickly that it was over before he even had time to react. Kail ducked to avoid another swing, but the assassin was faster. He brought the branch around in an arc, catching her a blow to the side of her head with enough force to send her spinning in the air before she crumpled to the floor. The assassin raised his club for a killing blow, but was hit by a tawny-grey streak of fur.

"Don't kill him!" Bishop called to the wolf. He hurried over to the pair and kicked the man in the stomach before the fool got his throat ripped out, then used thick rope to bind the man's arms and legs. He used another rope around the man's head for a gag, then give him another kick for good measure. Satisfied that his new victim wasn't going anywhere, he turned his attention to the still body of the woman.

Karnwyr sniffed her. _'Alpha',_ he thought to the bard, though she obviously couldn't hear him. Even had she been awake, she still would not have heard.

"Don't call her that," Bishop snapped at the wolf. "She's not _your_ Alpha, and she's not _my_ Alpha." Karnwyr said nothing, but gave him a lupine grin. Crouching down beside the woman, he ran his eyes over her, assessing her frankly. Her clothes hugged her body, but functionally, rather than seductively. A little shorter than average, her head barely topped his chest when she was standing. Crumpled in a heap on the floor, she looked tiny. Frail. Weak. Helpless. _Curiosity killed the cat_, he grinned to himself.

Putting the back of his hand to her nose, he felt warm breath on his skin. That wasn't surprising. She was a fighter. A survivor. It would take more than a knock to the head to finish her off. Gently, almost tenderly, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face to examine the wound on her head. It had been a vicious blow which had resulted in a large bruise to her temple and had left half of the branch embedded under her skin in the form of dozens of sharp splinters and slivers of wood. She would wake up with one hell of a headache. **If** she woke up at all.

The thoughts played across his mind, whispering like voices on the wind. They were tempting, seductive thoughts; he could make sure she never woke up. Smiling to himself, he ran his fingers down the bridge of her nose, feeling her breath on his skin again as his fingers traced the contours of her lips. Her face was pale, and small compared to his hand. It would be easy, oh so easy, to cover her mouth with his palm, pinch her nostrils closed between his thumb and his finger. Quick, painless, and no resistance.

Or he could cut her, over and over, in places where her blood would drain out slowly. He knew all of the points of the body, knew where to strike for a quick kill, where to cut shallow to kill through blood loss, where to burn to cause maximum pain. Luskans were good teachers in the fine arts of torture and assassination, and he had learnt from the best. His body still bore the scars of his failures, lessons he had failed to learn the first time. They were mistakes that nobody ever repeated. Those lessons had made him stronger. They could make her stronger, too.

But it would be a shame to scar such soft skin. Besides, she could be made stronger in other ways, through different trials. Mental trials, rather than trials of the flesh. Oh, he had known men who would not think twice about taking an unconscious woman for their own pleasure. It seemed pointless, to him. There was no satisfaction in taking somebody who was no more responsive than a corpse. No, he liked to _see_ his effect on people. He liked to see his victims and his enemies writhing in pain... and the women he chose writhing in pleasure. It would be infinitely more enjoyable to see the aloof bard like _that_ than it would to see her dead.

He couldn't kill her. Not now, at least. The others would know, would tell Duncan. Duncan would flap his mouth, and Bishop would have to run far, to escape both the Neverwinter authorities and the Circle of Blades. No, he couldn't kill her, but he _could_ break her. It would be a challenge. Something fun to amuse himself with. He would put all his effort into destroying the façade of civility that she maintained. He would find a way through the cold, bardic veneer, find a way to release the monster that was caged inside her; the angry monster of pure fury that challenged the gods and threatened to overwhelm her when her control wavered. Maybe he'd even be able to find a way to make her more... amenable. Maybe he'd be able to get her to beg. A smile tugged at his lips as he removed a bandage laced with herbs from a small pouch at his belt. The herbs were a coagulant and a painkiller, would help to stem the blood flow and kill the pain of the cut, though they wouldn't do anything for a concussion. He pressed the bandage to her temple, turning his head to regard Karnwyr, who was sat watching him.

"Are you staying?" he asked. The wolf gave him the sense of mild disgust, then trotted off into the forest. Wolves did not like torture. They killed for food, and although Karnwyr would always help him to kill Luskans, the wolf always left before the torture began. Smiling to himself, Bishop settled down into a more comfortable position, and waited for the woman to regain consciousness.

o - o - o - o - o

Her eyelids flickered open, and everything hurt. Shapes danced wildly around her vision, colours swimming in front of her. She heard a noise but could not discern where it came from, or what it meant. Something touched her face and she tried to bat it away, but her arms didn't seem to want to work. Inside her dry mouth, her tongue felt thick, and whenever she moved a blinding pain shot through her head. It seemed easier to not try, so she closed her eyes again.

Something tugged gently at the collar of her shirt, and she realised that the top laces were being unfastened. It seemed to help. She could breath a little easier. Something warm touched her neck, exploring her skin. The something stopped still, and she realised what it had been searching for; her pulse. The 'something', she realised, were fingers, and they pressed expertly against her throat for a count of sixty. Then she felt hands cup her face, stroking her cheeks as somebody said something_. Valear_? she thought. Why was why reminded of Valear? Was he here? She tried to concentrate on the voice, but her ears could make no sense of what they heard. It was as if the speech was garbled beyond recognition.

Slowly, very slowly, she opened her eyes. Mercifully, the blinding pain seemed to have gone, though she was having a little trouble focusing. She concentrated on the blurs of colour in front of her, and eventually they coalesced into forms and shapes. A pair of golden-brown eyes watched her from a face hidden by shadow and darkness. Lips moved and sound came out, but she could not understand. She reached out and touched the lips, trying to catch the words on her fingertips, and the golden-brown eyes widened slightly in surprise. But it was no use; the words just did not make sense. _It's an illusion_, she thought, and drifted back into unconsciousness.

Some time later, it may have been seconds, it may have been hours, she was rudely awakened by cold water being poured onto her face. Choking and spluttering, she sat up, gasping for breath.

"For a moment there, I thought you were going to give up and die on me," said Bishop, putting the stopper back on his canteen. She glared at him and raised a hand to her temple, but he caught her arm and pulled it down. "Don't. You'll only make it worse." She nodded, and he released her arm. "And don't heal yourself, either. Unless you're looking to start a splinter collection under your skin."

"How long was I asleep for?"

"Half an hour at most. You're lucky," he snorted, "your thick Harborman skull saved your life. Here, these are yours." He handed her the two daggers which she had dropped when she was hit, and she sheathed them at her belt. Everything still hurt, but she wasn't about to admit it to him.

"I'm sorry if I ruined your 'fun'," she said.

"Not at all. Look at what I've saved for you." He turned his head slightly and indicated the trussed Luskan. She narrowed her eyes at the bound man.

"Triplets? How kind of you. Can I take one home and keep him as a pet?"

"I'm surprised you only see three of him, with the force of that blow he gave you. But I'm sure Duncan won't mind if you want to add him to your collection of fawning dogs who sit around his tavern drinking ale all day."

"Says my favourite fawning dog," she smiled, and regretted it when a sliver of pain shot through her head.

"Glad to see your sense of humour is intact. Now I'm no healer, but I believe you're going to live." He leant forward and lowered his voice, his determined stare meeting her undoubtedly unfocused gaze. "I've securely tied your new 'pet'. He's not going anywhere. Would you like me to leave you and him for a little... alone time?"

"I don't care either way," she said with a shrug as she crawled onto her hands and knees. She didn't think she could walk yet, so she merely crawled towards the Luskan and sat beside him to examine him. He was a fairly non-descript man. Short black hair, cold blue eyes that glittered with intense hatred, and a week-old beard. His clothing was brown and black, and his belt held a number of small pouches. He could have passed without question as an average Neverwinter citizen.

What was she supposed to do? She was in unfamiliar territory. Always, before, her actions had been guided by people in her past; her father, Lucas, Georg, Valear... but now the voices were silent. Nobody had ever sat her down and given her words of wisdom to reflect upon when considering torturing somebody, and she did not think a vague platitude would work in this instance. Neither had anybody told her what to do when an insane ranger invited her to go out torturing Luskans. Maybe they should have started the evening with a light meal and a little wine first. _I'm a torture virgin,_ she thought, grinning. The man's eyes narrowed at her, and that made her grin widen.

Where to start? What to do? Did she want to make him suffer? She probably should. He had hurt her. But right now she was tired, and in pain, and she wanted to sleep. Inflicting pain was too much effort. Merely staying _awake_ was too much effort. A glint of moonlight on metal caught her eye, and she stared at the ring on the man's finger; a circle of tiny daggers. Leaning over, she tore it from his finger and held it up for the man to see.

"Who sent you?" she asked, and then remembered that he was gagged. She took out a dagger and sliced through the rope.

"The great flaming overgod Ao," he sneered.

"What do you know about Black Garius?" she asked.

"Black Garius? Sounds like a tavern dancer. Colleague of yours?" he returned. Then, glancing at Bishop; "Do you always get little girls to do this for you? Get your blood pumping to see 'em mewling like kittens, does it?" She knew that Bishop was behind her, but he seemed to be ignoring the Luskan.

"Black Garius. Did he send you?" she asked. The man ignored her, addressing the ranger again.

"Not very good at this, is she? You've obviously not been up to the task of teaching her. Tell you what... untie me, and give me a half hour alone with her. I bet I can make her scream. Does she scream all night? Half an hour with a _real_ man and she'll be screaming for more." She let him drone on for a while about what he'd like to do to her; none of it actually direct _at_ her, but at Bishop. That was slightly annoying. Didn't he see that _she_ was the one with the knife? _This isn't going as planned,_ she thought as she passed the dagger between her hands. _Not that I actually __**had**__ a plan._ The man's incessant talking was making the pain in her head worse.

_Start with something big, to get their attention, but not so big that it dwarfs all else that follows. If you start a performance small, there's nothing to hook the audience, nothing to draw them in, nothing to make them sit on the edge of their seats wanting more._ She doubted that Lucas had torture in mind when he said that -- the topic of discussion at the time had been performances -- but it was close enough. She reached over with her free left hand, put the heel of her palm on his chin to keep his head still, then used the edge of the dagger to slice around the socket of the man's left eye.

His first scream ripped through her mind, sending dancing lights across her vision. _Gods, how I want to heal this._ She did not stop until she heard the _crick_ of her dagger severing his optical nerve, and when she removed the weapon from his bloody face, the offending eye came away with it. _Too bad the crow isn't here,_ she thought grimly, dropping the ruined organ onto the ground.

"Personally, I would have worked up to eye-gouging, but it's a decent start," said a quiet voice in her ear. _Who asked you?_ she thought, but did not say. She was slightly grateful to him for whatever he had done to halt the pain on her temple, and insulting him right now would probably do more harm than good. Besides, she wasn't in the mood for idle conversation. The man's screams were louder, hysterical screams of agony. Every cry sent lights and shadows across her eyes, making her head throb. She placed her hand on the side of his head, and chanted the words for a healing spell. It was only a light healing spell, but it was the only one she knew. It would deaden the man's pain, stop the worst of the bleeding, but not remove the pain completely. She finished the spell and his cries fell quiet, her mind mercifully still once more. She was dispassionately considering her next question when a hand under her arm hauled her to her feet and pulled her slightly away from the bound man.

"What are you doing?" Bishop hissed, anger flashing in his eyes. "You don't heal the enemy."

"The screaming was irritating me," she told him factually. "Isn't there a quieter way to do this?"

"What? You're torturing him, for hell's sake. He's _supposed_ to scream. It isn't supposed to be quiet."

"If he's screaming and in pain he won't be coherent enough to answer my questions," she explained.

"_Questions?_"

"Do you think I'd be doing this unless there was a point to it?" she asked calmly. "That man knows things, and I want to know _what_ he knows. This isn't the first time that a man wearing one of these," she held up the ring, "has tried to kill me. I want to know who's sending them and why." He took her by the elbow and led her a little further away.

"Look, you're new to this, so I'm going to tell you what you need to know," he said. "Interrogation and torture are two different things. The purpose served by interrogation is to learn information. The purpose served by torture is to cause pain. Interrogation relies on one thing, and one thing alone; your victim has to believe that there is a chance for him to live. A chance for him to stave off pain by telling everything that he knows. And sometimes they _do_ get out of it alive." He let a little of the anger out of his voice as he continued. "That man is already dead, and he _knows_ it. That's why he was goading you. That's why he was talking over you at me, and that's why he said what he did about you. He was trying to make you angry, trying to make you kill him quickly because he _knows_ what's coming, he knows he's not going to escape it, and as a result he's not going to answer any of your questions."

"But I thought you 'saved him for me'. Doesn't that mean I can do what I want with him? Even question him despite the fact that I probably won't get a straight answer?" she asked, twirling one of her throwing knives around her fingers. At least the blow to the head hadn't seriously damaged her reflexes.

"Do whatever you want, but remember we still have to get back to your little followers. And I _would_ like a couple of hours sleep before I have to start playing happy families with the paladin again."

"Why don't you get some sleep now? I'll try to keep him from screaming too loudly and waking you," she smiled.

"And miss you scratching your claws on him, wildcat? I wouldn't miss that for the _world_." He deftly plucked the knife from her fingers and nudged her back to the Luskan. Still holding her dagger, she knelt down by the man, and met his one good eye with a cool stare.

"I've decided I was wrong about you, little girl," said the man. "It's obvious now that you're the brains around here. You've got your play-thing over there all wrapped around your finger. I see how he comes running when you crook your finger, like a homeless mongrel dog who's sold his freedom for a pat on the head and a praise of 'good boy'. But you need more than that. Untie me, and injured as I am, I'll break his neck for you. Then you and I can get a little more... comfortable."

Ha! So he'd changed strategies. Given up on trying to make her angry, and now decided to try and make Bishop angry. Judging by the amused expression on the ranger's face, it wasn't working. It was too blatantly obvious. The fact that the man was tied and bleeding lent no credence to his words. But she smiled and leaned forward all the same.

"I might be amenable to that," she said demurely, "if you will tell you why you're following me."

"You?" the Luskan asked in genuine surprise. "You think we were following _you_?" His eyes flickered briefly to Bishop, stood behind her. "Somebody might be following you, but it's not me. No, my group were looking out for bigger prey. We were huntin-"

An arrow tearing into the man's throat cut off his words, and his body went limp as his life left him. She blinked in surprise, then stood, whirling around on her heels.

"What did you do that for?!"

"The man was boring me," he said with a shrug. He wasn't in the _least_ bit apologetic!

"But I had him talking. He could have said something that may have helped my case in the trial."

"Think about that for a moment, wildcat," he said, stepping forward to look down at her. "Nothing he could have told you could have been used in a court of law. What would you have said when asked where your statement came from? 'Oh, I'm sorry Lord Nasher, but the Luskan assassin I tortured the information out of is sadly deceased. But I swear I really didn't slaughter a bunch of people'. If you believe anything that he said could have helped you, then you're less intelligent I thought."

"But..."

"Stop trying to justify your being here. You didn't come here to ask questions. You would have known that if you'd thought about it for two minutes. Can't you admit, even to yourself, why you're _really_ here?" he asked.

"Fine. I'm here because I was curious. Because I don't believe in the black and white, good and evil mentality. I wanted to know _why_ you felt the need to torture somebody, and I wanted to see if inflicting pain on somebody is as horrific as most people believe."

"There now, that wasn't so hard to admit, was it? You wanted to form your _own_ opinion about something, from your _own_ experience. You don't just want to follow the rest of the mindless sheep. Why you're afraid of admitting that to yourself I have no idea."

"But I still don't know why **you** feel the need to torture them," she pointed out.

"No. You don't." He lifted her arm by the wrist and slid the knife he had taken from her earlier into its secure holder in her bracer. "Now, would you like to practise gouging out more eyes, or can we get back to the happy campers?"

"Lead the way," she shrugged, and followed him away from the carnage without even a backward glance.

o - o - o - o - o

The warm glow of the campfire was visible through the trees. Karnwyr had rejoined them on the journey back, and he now stood leaning his head against Bishop's leg, whilst he himself was stood behind Kail. She was just... watching. Watching the people sat around the fire who were not yet sleeping. Watching the way the firelight danced across their faces.

"They haven't even set up a perimeter," he said, feeling slightly disgusted. "Your little thief is the only one of them who's even half alert. If somebody ambushed them, she'd probably be the only one to come out alive." The woman said nothing. She had been as silent on the journey back as she had on the hunt. His respect for her rose slightly because of it. Any other woman, and a great many men, would have babbled inanely to mask any uneasiness they felt after participating in torture. They would have sought reassurance for their actions in the form of comforting words.

When she turned to him at last, there was grim resignation in her face, mixed with a great deal of pain. The herbs from the bandage press were probably wearing off. Now he could almost _see_ her mind ticking, how she was struggling to find the right way to phrase her next words. He was in a decent mood, so he decided to make it easy for her -- this time.

"Don't worry, wildcat. Your dirty little secret is safe with me... for now. Besides, you've already slaughtered an entire village of people. What's the torture of a single Luskan murderer compared to that?" She nodded, and he knew she understood the veiled threat. He walked around her, tilting her head to the side with his fingers so that the firelight fell upon the slightly-bleeding wound on her temple. "What are you going to tell your friends?" he asked.

"That you play rough," she said, and brushed past him, walking towards the people around the campfire.

Tonight had been an interesting night. They had both learnt things. She had learnt the fine, ages-old art of physical torture. He had learnt that his lips tingled pleasantly at the soft touch of her fingers. Smiling to himself, he stepped after her. This was going to be a fun challenge indeed.


	43. Duskwood

_43. Duskwood_

Kail woke early the next morning to the sound of birds singing. Around her, her friends began to wake and pack their blankets back into their packs, and they all ate that was left of the boar for breakfast. Making an early start, they left their campsite, and Bishop led the way toward Duskwood Glade.

The morning seemed so fresh and new that she could almost believe the events of the night hadn't happened. But she recognised denial trying to creep in when she saw it, and decided not to take that route. Instead she would accept what she had done, and feel guilt that she didn't feel worse about it. She had been worried that Bishop would try to blackmail her, or threaten to tell everybody what had transpired while they were alone in the forest. But other than to tell her that he wished he could see her with morning-hair more often, he had practically ignored her. The same could not be said for all of her companions, however.

"The next time I bathe I want somebody trustworthy to stay behind and watch Grobnar," said Qara.

"Then you're going to spend a lot of time being smelly and dirty," Kail said, "because nobody is going to be wasting time doing that." Qara stomped off in a huff, only to be replaced by Casavir.

"I would think that you could show a little more compassion to Qara, my lady," he said. "After all, she has been sheltered much of her life, and unused to this harsh regime of constant travel and battle. I would have thought that you would enjoy having somebody around who is close to you in age,"

"Oh please," she said with a snort. "Qara's like... fifteen. I'm twenty three." Surprise registered briefly in his eyes, before he resumed his mask of staid complacency.

"Forgive me, I had thought you somewhat younger," he admitted. "That is why I was surprised, when I first met you, that Khelgar and the others were following you." She shrugged.

"Don't worry about it. I get that all the time. It's my height."

"We've got company," said Bishop, nocking an arrow on his bow and drawing the string tight. As Neeshka drew her bow, and Grobnar began loading a bolt onto his crossbow, several large, dark wolves loped towards them, ears back and teeth bared. Kail heard a growl from nearby, and noticed Karnwyr's fangs were bared too.

"Perhaps I can speak to them," said Elanee, taking a step forward. At once the wolves rushed towards her. Bishop let his arrow fly, and it took down the first wolf. Another went down when it was shot by Neeshka and Grobnar. Casavir stepped forward to knock another wolf out of the air in mid-jump; it fell to the ground with a yelp and hurried out of firing range. Quickly, Kail took her new crossbow from her belt, removed the safety catch and pulled the trigger. The last wolf died bristling with bolts.

"Handy," she smiled at Grobnar.

"Oh, I'm so glad it works!" he replied.

"Something about this forest..." said Elanee, watching the lone wolf retreating, "I can't hear the trees, their voices are strange. There's something wrong with them. It's some kind of poison, running up through their roots."

"Poison?" she asked.

"Yes... the poison, it's like a brightness, seeping from the ground into their branches."

"Maybe we can get to the source of the poison and try to heal this place," she suggested.

"All I know is this place is making my gut churn," said Qara.

"As our druidic adherent mentioned," said Sand, "it is the Duskwood trees that surround us. Your senses will become lethargic as a result."

"Lethargic? This place is making my _gut_ churn," repeated Qara.

"These trees act as a damper on magical energies. Your... talents, and my considerable ones, may be reduced while we are here," Sand explained.

"Is that why you brought me here? To weaken me and humiliate me?" asked Qara, narrowing her eyes at the Elf.

"No, that is merely a fortunate side effect. I think of anyone, _you_ could use a little humbling."

"While we're here, you'll need to rely on something other than your powers, Qara. Take the opportunity," said Kail.

"Our friend is right, dear Qara. Besides, I thought the powers of the Duskwood were known to all in the region... well, for anyone who can _read_," said Sand.

"Both of you can burn in the Nine Hells," said Qara. "Come on then, let's get going. The sooner we're done in this cesspool, the sooner we can leave."

"You heard Her Highness," she said to Bishop. He smirked at the sorceress.

"The Grove is just up ahead," he replied.

He turned and led them deeper into the forest. The shadows were thick around them, and she had the uneasy feeling that the trees were somehow _watching_ her, or at least aware of her, and disapproved of her being there. It made her skin crawl. In a way, it was similar to the Mere; both places were dark, with hidden secrets, and often unwelcoming to the weary traveller. But if the Mere could be said to be dead, then this place was very, _very_ alive.

"How well do you know the Duskwood?" she asked Bishop. Her voice sounded alien, as if it didn't belong.

"Well enough."

"Is it... dangerous? More so than most forests, I mean. I'm just getting the impression that we're being watched, and that we're not welcome."

"Your instincts are pretty sharp," he said. "We _are_ being watched. We're being shadowed by wolves, probably part of the same pack that attacked us." She shivered. It was worse, knowing that they were out there and she couldn't see them, than not knowing they were out there at all.

"Why did they attack like that?" she asked. "When we encountered winter wolves at Old Owl Well, even though they were injured and defensive, they let Elanee approach them, to heal their wounds and speak to them. The wolves here don't seem injured, so why did they attack?"

"I don't know," he said with a shrug. "The forest has its protectors... though something tells me those wolves aren't part of the forest's protection. Maybe they're sick, or starving. If there really are no deer left, they could be getting desperate."

"Would you be able to speak to them? If you wanted to?" she asked.

"Dunno. I don't care much for animals, unless I'm being paid to hunt them," he said dispassionately. She shot a look at the wolf trotting by Bishop's side. The animal seemed to be grinning at her.

"But you care for Karnwyr," she pointed out.

"He's different."

"How?

"What's with all the questions, wildcat?" he asked with a sigh. "No, let me guess... 'just curious'."

"I just like to understand things," she said.

"Well get this into your thick Harborman skull. I'm not a 'thing', and I don't want to be 'understood'."

"Fine," she said. "Point taken. But will you at least tell me how Karnwyr came to travel with you? Surely it wasn't your fine personality that won him over."

"You're not going to put it in a song, are you?"

"No, of course not."

"Alright then. About four years ago I was on a job -- escorting goods, we shall say -- when I heard a commotion somewhere in the forest nearby. So I quietly made my way over, and found a Luskan logging team sitting around a wolf's den. Seemed they'd been cutting timber and come across the den when they cleared away some of the trees. Must've been a loner, because she'd attacked to defend her den, and they'd skinned her. Then they realised she had pups, and they dragged them out of the den one by one and... you sure you want to know, wildcat? I'm sure it would make the druid cry."

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know."

"Okay. So they'd dragged all of the pups out, one by one, and set fire to them. They sat there laughing as each pup ran around, frantically trying to put out the fire in its fur before it died. Karnwyr was the last they pulled from the den, and he tried to fight right away. Managed to sink his little puppy teeth into one man's hand. So they decided to take some of the burning wood from the fire and poke him around a bit first, make him run and yelp. Having nothing better to do, and already despising Luskans, I shot the men and took the pup with me. At first I didn't even think he would survive; he was too young to be away from his mother, and he had been through a pretty harsh trauma. Can you imagine, watching your mother die, and being so injured yourself that you might not live a few days, much less years?"

_Yes, she could. She had been held in her mother's arms, when the woman she never knew had died. She had suffered the shard being lodged in her chest, suffered from being taken away from her mother too young._ _Did Karnwyr still remember what happened to his mother? She didn't, and for that she was both thankful and sorry._

"I told you you didn't want to hear it," he said, mistaking her silence for disgust. "Well, now you know the story of why Karnwyr doesn't like people, and why I'm not all that thrilled about them either."

"Kail," said Elanee, interrupting the conversation. "There is a dryad in the Grove up ahead."

"Are you sure?" she asked, hurrying forward to stand with the other woman.

"Of course. I can sense her, and I can see her. Look over there, in front of that tree." It took Kail a minute to train her eyes in the right spot; the creature was beautifully camouflaged, with brown-green skin that blended into the forest perfectly.

"Let's see if we can talk to her," she said. Elanee nodded, and together they moved closer, with everyone else following.

"Lorne!" said the druid, narrowing her eyes at Kail. "Why haven't you held up your end of the bargain?"

"Yes, _Lorne_," said Sand meaningfully. "Why haven't you help up your end of the bargain?"

"What? 'Lorne'?" asked Casavir. "We're not here to spread more lies..."

"Do not interrupt our leader," Sand said with an imperious wave of his hand. "Lorne is in charge here, not you."

"Answer me!" said the dryad.

"Remind me of our bargain," Kail said on a whim. "I seem to have forgotten."

"Why do you play these games with me?" the dryad hissed. "In exchange for your disguise, you promised me the goblin's Glowstone. Where is it?"

"That's why I'm here," she said. "We need new disguises to infiltrate the goblins' camp."

"I don't have enough powder for you _and_ your companions," replied the dryad.

"I'll take whatever you have, then," said Kail.

"Fine. Seeing as I have no choice but to help you. Here... it's all that's left." The dryad threw a bag of powder to her. She deftly plucked it from the air and tucked it up her sleeve. Then she hurried her companions away from the Grove.

"These lies do not serve us," said Casavir. She ignored him. Lies seemed a better way to get the powder than slaughter.

"Excellent!" said Sand. "Now save that powder... we'll need it for the trial."

"Now go get me that Glowstone!" the dryad called after them.

"Are you going to retrieve the Glowstone for her?" asked Elanee, when they were a safe distance away.

"No," said Kail. "She helped Lorne disguise himself as me, so she is, in part, responsible for the massacre at Ember. Let her sit in her Grove and rot. The goblins can keep the Glowstone. They, at least, killed one of the assassins."

"Should we not at least confront the dryad about her actions?" said Casavir. "She must have had good reason for aiding Lorne."

"I didn't know there _was_ a good reason for being an accessory to murder in the paladin handbook," she said.

"Sure there is... " said Bishop, for once defending Casavir. "If you're a semi-naked woodland sprite with the form of a woman, that is."

"Perhaps you would like to retract your statement," said Casavir, glowering at the ranger.

"No, I don't think I would. I think I have the right of it. Anything can be excused if the accused is pretty enough, eh?"

"Enough about the dryad," said Kail. "We still need to find a way up to the ledge above the Grove. That's where Malin saw smoke."

"Where she _thinks_ she saw smoke," corrected Bishop. "Trust me, you don't want to put your faith in that girl's abilities. It's likely to leave you high and dry."

"You know," said Grobnar thoughtfully, "I think I saw a path further back that went up to the ledge. It definitely boded of a long climb, anyway."

"You sure, Gnome?" asked Bishop. "Because if you're leading us on a merry little chase..."

"Oh I wouldn't do that, Sir Bishop. But at my height, you tend to see a bit more of the ground. The horizen's quite a bit closer, you know," he replied.

"Alright then, let's check it out," said Kail. "Grobnar, lead the way."

o - o - o - o - o

"Whew, I could do with a rest," said Khelgar. "I don't mind all those wolves we had to fight to get up here, but the climb... bah! If nature was half civilised, it would make stairs!"

"You're just out of shape, Khelgar," said Neeshka. The blasted Tiefling seemed to be having no problem with the steep ascent. Probably all that climbing into windows and on rooves that she did, help her build up her strength for climbing.

"I'm not out of shape you blasted demon-girl. We Dwarves aren't built fer speed, we're built fer stamina! We can swing an axe or a pick for a whole day without getting tired, and woe-betide anyone who gets between us and our rocks! But this climbing... always with the going up, and up... it's not natural, the sky so close to our heads."

"Perhaps I could carry you on my back, if you are too tired," suggested Casavir.

"Nobody carries an Ironfist!" he said loudly. His voice echoed around the Duskwood.

"Good job, Khelgar," hissed Neeshka. "Why don't you just shout 'here I am, wolves, come and eat me' while you're at it?"

"Bah!" he said. "I'm going ahead to find Kail. Walking behind all you tall folk... well, it's not a pretty sight, I can tell you." He jogged on ahead, past Shandra and Qara then Elanee, then Bishop and Sand, and finally came to Grobnar and Kail. The lass liked being at the front, where she could see what was going on. It wasn't in her nature to follow.

"Ah, Sir Khelgar, perhaps you can share with us some of your past exploits around the Sword Coast. I would be honoured to turn them into an epic song for you!" said Grobnar.

"Maybe later, when we're not traipsing around this cursed forest. I reckon Elanee is right, you know... this forest feels wrong, even _I_ can feel it, and I don't even know the first thing about forests," he replied with a shiver. In his opinion, nothing good ever came from forests. The only thing wood was good for was shoring up your tunnels.

"You seem to be a little more well-disposed towards Neeshka, these days," Kail said. "And even Elanee, to some extent."

He thought over her words. Now that she mentioned it, he wasn't as suspicious as the others as he first had been. The Tiefling was alright, for a thief. At least she was loyal to Kail, and that was something. As for Elanee...

"Well," he said, "the frail lass is one of those copper elves... wood elves. Their kind stood with the shield dwarves in the North, so I'll stand by her if need be. If you ask me, she still needs to put some meat on that slim little belly of hers, though. You'd think she was trying to be a tavern dancer, with a belly like that. It makes me sick, it does!"

"Call me crazy," Kail replied, "but I think that just might qualify you for the Trial of the Evenhanded."

"You may be right, lass," he mused. It was worth thinking about.

"Look, there's a fire up ahead! Malin was right, there _is_ somebody up here!" said Grobnar. "Oh, I just know this is going to help clear your name, Kail!" The lass merely gripped the crossbow the crazy Gnome had made for her.

"Let's wait for the others to catch up before we get much closer," she said.

o - o - o - o - o

Qara snapped a long twig from a branch and began peeling the tender bark as she walked. Such a simple act of destruction made her feel calmer, more relaxed, and the Gods knew she needed it. This entire journey had been one long fiaso after another.

It hadn't started out too badly, and the first night they had made camp had been rather pleasant, except for Bishop's stupid wolf which just sat there and watched her undress. The next day they'd arrived in Port Llast, which was a stinkhole of a town. Gods only knew why the Luskans wanted it so badly.

That's when she'd discovered that Grobnar had been spying on them as they bathed, and she had been denied retribution against the Gnome by stupid Kail and her stupid crossbow and her stupid thinking she was the boss. Just because everybody else asked 'how high' when the bard said jump, didn't mean _Qara_ would. Oh no, she would not.

Kail thought she was the Gods' gift to the world, just because everybody wanted to ber her friend and save her life. It's not like she was special, apart from having a piece of metal stuck in her chest. Lots of people probably had bits of metal stuck in them, like soldiers with arrowheads, or something.

To make matters worse, following Grobnar's revelation that he was a complete pervert, she'd been forced to go down into a dark, stinking well. Now her favourite robe was _ruined_. So she'd been dirty, freezing, and forced to socialise with _goblins_ of all things. And as if that wasn't enough, she then had to deal with _spiders_. She hated spiders. Stupid crawly things with too many legs. They had no redeeming features whatsoever. A bit like Kail, really.

The high point of the whole day had been when the bard had gone off with Bishop for hours. Watching the ensuing panic was hilarious. Elanee had tried to follow them, but lost the trail in the dark. Shandra tried to go after them, but was stopped by the pervert Gnome clinging to her leg and telling her it was too dangerous to go into the forest alone at night. Khelgar and Neeshka had been talking together in hushed whispers, as if trying to decide what to do about it. Casavir just paced around their camp the whole time Kail was gone. Only Sand, stupid little wizard, had seemed calm. So Qara had sat back and laughed inwardly at the chaos.

Then, when the pair returned with the bard tired and bleeding, Kail had to lie still while Elanee removed all of the wood splinters from her forehead. It had been extremely satisfying to see the woman flinching in pain every time Elanee took one out. _Ha!_ That would teach her to walk around as if she was invincible. She hoped Bishop had taken her down a peg or two. Someday soon, someone would have to take _him_ down a few pegs as well.

Done with peeling the bark from the twig, she began to break it into little pieces, dropping the bits behind her as she walked. At least she wasn't cleaning tables anymore. That was something.

Ahead of her, Kail and that stupid Gnome had stopped moving, and were looking at something up ahead. She saw Bishop sniff the air and put an arrow across his bow. Typical, that his first response was violence. Not that she was opposed to a little violence, of course, but there wasn't very much she could do while this stupid forest and its stupid trees were blocking her abilities. Still, at least Sand was an impotent here as he was outside the Duskwood. The nerve of the man, insulting _her_! As if he had any real power, beyond what he gleaned from books. He hadn't been born with power, and he wouldn't know what power was if it walked up and bit him on the nose.

Further up the trail, Qara caught sight of a narrow column of smoke. _At last!_ She hated these woods with a passion. The sooner they were done with this, the sooner they could be back in Neverwiner, to civilisation. And surely Duncan would accept that she'd done enough 'serving' by now. His stupid inn and his reputation weren't worth _that_ much, after all.

As she neared the fire she noticed there were two small figures in front of it. They were child-like in stature, but it seemed a bit strange for children to be out here with all these wolves... _Oh Gods, they're Gnomes!_ Great, just what this journey needed. More Gnomes. These two were female.

"Look, Mirri! Visitors," said one of the Gnomes in an annoyingly high pitched voice. All Gnomes probably spoke like that just to irritate her.

"What are Gnomes doing in the Duskwood?" asked Elanee. The druid could really be a bit dense at times. Obviously, the Gnomes were there just to make their journey more hellish than it already was.

"Oh my, they sure have wandered far from home," said Grobnar.

"Ah, look, not only do the woods have an infestation of Gnomes, but they also seem to have gathered quite an... impressive array of insects," said Sand. In front of the Gnome women were trays full of bugs. Great, Gnomes and bugs. Two of her least favourite things in Faerûn.

"Who are you?" asked Kail, probably feigning interest. As if anybody cared who they are.

"I'm Mirri, and this is my sister Jilla. We have travelled here from Lantan, beyond the Sea of Swords. Travelled here and... and decided to stay," one of them replied.

"Why did you leave your home?" said Kail.

"Oh, we were far too tidy for Lantan," said Jilla. "It's a very messy place."

"We had boxes and boxes of insects, sorted by class, and tied up with string," said Mirri. How could you sort insects by class? Did you put all the poor insects in one box, the common insects in another, the nobles in another and the royal in another? Stupid Gnomes.

"And the others were forever getting into our things, moving them about, reclassifying them, and writing us silly notes," said Jilla. Well, that would teach Gnomes to put locks on their front doors, wouldn't it? Then again, maybe they just all lived in one giant hovel.

"That certainly seems odd," said Grobnar. "Order and tidiness seem to be conductive to research and study. I mean, not that I've ever practised it, but it always seemed a good idea in abstract."

"Really?" said Mirri or Jilla. She had to admit, she'd lost track of which Gnome was which a few sentences ago. "Perhaps you'd care to stay and assist us? A kindred spirit is always welcome... especially for two young sisters, all alone in the wood." _Oh Gods, yes, please let him say yes!!!_

"Pardon?" said Grobnar, blinking in confusion or idiocy.

"I'd rather you stayed, Grobnar," said Kail. _What?!_ "But it's up to you."

"Oh, staying with you is fine with me, thank you," he replied to the bard. "We have such wondrous adventures." Besides, if he left, he wouldn't be able to spy on the women while they were bathing again. Pervert. "Besides, these two women seem more than capable of handling things on their own. I mean, just _look_ at this collection."

"Did you see what happened in Ember?" Kail asked the Gnomes.

"Ember? Isn't that the human village, Jilla? The one we visited last tenday?" asked Mirri.

"Just so, Mirri. And we got all of that wonderful mutton, remember?"

"Ember was destroyed," said Kail. "Do you know anything about that?"

"Destroyed? No, we hardly ever come out of the wood. Our... work keeps us busy."

"They used to tell us on Lantan that the whole island could sink into the sea before we'd notice. 'There go Mirri and Jilla, after their insects again'," said Jilla.

"Well, islands _do_ sink into the sea sometimes. They are rather heavy, and when they sink, well... it is hard to notice," said Grobnar.

"Think of it Jilla," sad Mirri. "Ember in ruins. There must be bodies everywhere, untended.... sheep and people both. We should go and... pay our respects, don't you think?"

"This place is dangerous," said Kail. "How do you avoid the wolves?" It was probably the other way around.

"Wolves are no trouble, are they Jilla?"

"No trouble. Besides, we're very small and hardly a threat. Perhaps they've grown fond of us." _Unlikely._

"Is this cave abandoned?" Kail asked, pointing further behind the Gnomes. Huh... she hadn't even noticed there was a cave.

"Strange that you should ask," said Jilla. "When we first arrived, we found a woman living here. Didn't we Mirri?"

"Just so. She entrusted this place to us, and then she went away. She said that her family had gone, or been killed, and she was off into the wild, to build a new clan."

"That's odd," said Elanee. "Was she a druid by any chance? I did not think there was one tending the Duskwood." The pair blinked at her, and ignored her.

"Mind if we take a look around?" asked Kail.

"We'd rather you didn't, to tell the truth," said Mirri.

"We like to keep everything just so... our boxes and our samples, and the insects of course. It wouldn't do to go trampling them underfoot."

"Yes, Jilla. Better that they leave, and soon. The Duskwood isn't kind to strangers."

"Just the same," said Kail firmly, "I think we're going to check out the cave. You know how adventurers are with caves." The Gnomes merely shrugged, and went back to their insects.

o - o - o - o - o

The cave turned out to be full of wolves. Kail ducked as one lunged for her -- they were huge beasts, unnaturally large, and as it landed she spun and shot it with the RAMP. Everybody else was fighting around her... even Sand and Qara. They had been given the training staffs that she had made for Shandra, and Shandra herself was using one of Kail's daggers. Magical ability was still hampered in the cave as it was in the forest, but at least they weren't too hindered by it. Arrows and bolts flew past Casavir, Khelgar, Shandra and Elanee, whilst Qara and Sand were stood further back with Neeshka, Bishop, Grobnar and herself.

"Why is it that whenever we encounter wolves, they attack us on sight?" asked Khelgar, delivering a killing blow to the last wolf standing. "Ye'd think that with a druid travelling with us, we'd be off the menu."

"It's probably your _smell_ driving them to it, moss-breath," said Neeshka. The Tiefling was never happy fighting something that didn't have pockets and possessions.

"Well look at this," said Bishop, squatting by something at the back of the cave. "Red hair, clothes of a northerner... I think we just found Bradbury. Or what the wolves have left of him, which isn't much."

"We didn't want to do it," said a voice behind them. Kail whirled around, and found herself facing two very short werewolves. "We never want to, but the blood... the smell, it fills you up..."

"Yes, Jilla. Just so..." said the other werewolf.

"Why... that little werewolf has the same name as the Gnome girl we met outside. What a coincidence!" said Grobnar.

"You two are werewolves?" Kail asked. "How did this happen?"

"A woman was living here when we first came from Lantan... she welcomed us, took us in, listened while we talked of hornflies and weevils. In the night, she fell on us. She bit us, both of us, but not deep enough to kill. She wanted to make more of her kind. She said she was the last... the last of the Duskwood Pack. They'd hunted and slain all the rest," said Jilla.

"We thought we might do the same, with your Gnome companion. Maybe add him to _our_ pack. But... that would have been wrong," said Mirri.

"Me? A werewolf?" said Grobnar. "Why... why how interesting. I'd have to give up eating wolfsbane pastries, but those are poisonous anyway."

"Where is this woman now?" Kail asked the wolves.

"Gone. Far away. Maybe dead... we don't know," said Jilla.

"We try to stay away from folk... we truly do. We hunt animals, and when we can't catch any, we eat our specimens. We gorge on beetles and grubs"

"But when meat wanders into our lair... then the scent fills us up, and there's naught we can do."

"Uh... my, they're... drooling," said Grobnar.

"The blood, flowing warm between our teeth... the taste of soft, yielding flesh... just so."

"Um, pardon me for saying so, but I'm not certain attacking us would really... ahhhhh!" screamed Grobnar as one of the werewolves lunged for him. The second one jumped forward to attack Qara, and from further down the cave several large wolves appeared as backup.

Kail grabbed her crossbow and emptied it into one of the wolves in the background. Casavir rushed forward to prevent Grobnar being ripped to pieces, and Khelgar engaged the other werewolf as Elanee and Shandra took on the two remaining wolves. Kail tried to see where her help was needed most, and decided on the two women. There wasn't time to reload the crossbow, so she threw two of her knives at one of the wolves, and grabbed her one remaining dagger from her belt. As the wolf lunged towards Shandra, the woman deflected the blow with the shield she'd picked up in Port Llast. The animal's jaws closed around the wood, splintering it. Kail quickly plunged her knife into the animal's throat and dragged it backwards, slicing open the windpipe. Then she turned her attention to Elanee.

As she watched, the druid began to change shape... it seemed Elanee was trying to shift into the form of a bear, but something was wrong. Parts of her were shifting faster than others, and some parts that were already bear were changing back to Elf. It was an unsettling thing to watch, and made Kail feel queasy. The wolf must have had the same idea, because it started backing away, and eventually turned and fled, whining in fear.

"Kail! Qara's in trouble!" yelled Khelgar. She turned away from Elanee and noticed that one of the werewolves had thrown Casavir, slipping past him and was now lunging for the defenceless sorceress. Before she could even react, the werewolf jumped and knocked Qara to the floor, where the girl banged her head on the rocks.

"Help Casavir up," she said to Shandra, and ran towards the werewolf that was about to bite Qara. Fumbling in her purse, she grabbed one of the necklaces that Neeshka had given her as her due share of the loot from their many adventures, and wrapped it around the blade of her dagger. "Hey!" she said to the werewolf, which turned and snarled at her. She plunged the dagger as hard as possible into the creature's chest, hearing ribs crack as she pushed it further in. The silver chain, caught up in the blade, was pulled into the open wound, and the werewolf roared in pain, pushing Kail away and clawing at its chest.

She used the momentum of the push to roll, and as she stood she took two throwing knives from their pockets within her boots. Throwing them at the werewolf, she saw them strike the creature, one in the neck and one in the stomach. At last the werewolf went down in a pool of its own blood. She turned just in time to see Khelgar and Shandra kill the last lycanthrope as Casavir hurried over to the still form of Qara. Elanee was doubled over, taking deep breaths.

"Are you alright?" Kail asked. The Elf merely gave her a pained look and nodded.

"Qara is not as fortunate," said Casavir. "She needs heeling... I will do what I can for her here, but we should hurry away from this place so that Elanee can use her magic to heal her properly." Kail nodded.

"Is everyone else okay?" she asked.

"Aye lass, never better," said Khelgar.

"I'm alive... I guess that means I'm okay," smiled Shandra, looking a little pale.

"I might be injured," said Bishop. "You'll have to give me a thorough checking over later, to make sure."

"I'm fed up of fighting and nearly out of arrows," said Neeshka.

"It really was such a shame about those poor Gnomes," said Grobnar. "I guess we were just too tasty for them to resist."

"I am pleased that my keen arcane powers were not required for us to be victorious over those fiendish were-gnomes," said Sand. "And that my assumptions that Qara is unable to take care of herself unless she's burning something to the ground were proved correct."

"This is not an amusing matter," said Casavir. "She may have been killed."

"Yes," said Sand thoughtfully. "A pity that she won't learn anything from this when she wakes up."

"She is not the only one to have suffered a head injury on this trip," said Elanee pointedly.

"No," said Kail, "But it was her _choice_ to come. I had to. Now is everybody fit to travel? We'll head back to Ember. Elanee should be able to heal Qara there, and there's one other thing I'd like to do."

o - o - o - o - o

"Gods, it's like watching Khelgar eat. Ewwww," said Neeshka. The spider was making short work of Milli and Jilla's bug collection. When it was finished, it waved its mandibles at Kail.

"I think it wants to come with us," said Elanee.

"It looks... happy," said Shandra. "Gods, those fangs are huge. And it's... still got insect bits on them."

"It seems we've made a friend," said Sand. "I suggest you let it down easy with a polite, but firm, refusal."

"I'd be honoured to have you join us," said Kail.

"If you're sure..." said Sand.

"It seems nature has given us a gift... and we need all the help we can get," said Elanee.

"Allies from nature are welcome -- I hope we can gather more of them," said Kail.

"Nature has many gifts... and she will support us in our struggles as long as we respect the land."

"I cannot believe we're doing this," said Shandra.

"We let Sand tag along, didn't we?" asked Qara.

"What's that mark?" asked Grobnar as the spider scratced a single rune into the dirt.

"It looks like the elvish symbol for friendship... 'kistrel'. As good a name as any," said Elanee. The spider clacked its mandibles together and turned around, leaving the cave via a large hole. "I think it's safe to say that we will be seeing Kistrel again in the future."

"And I think it's safe to say that we have enough evidence to damn both Torio and Luskan alike. We should take our case to Lord Nasher," said Sand. Kail nodded.

"We'll stop by Port Llast first, so that we can arrange for Marcus and Alaine to be brought to Neverwinter, and so we can tell Calindra what has happened to Bradbury... then we'll go home and settle this for good."


	44. Homeward Bound

_44. Homeward Bound_

They had returned to Port Llast to find that Marcus and Alaine were already en route to Neverwinter under an armed escort. Though whether the guards were supposed to be protecting them from Luskans or _her_, she did not know. Calindra had been saddened by Bradbury's death, and decided to stay on in Port Llast for a while, asking Kail to forward any potential work her way if she came across the opportunity.

The group travelled towards Neverwinter for the rest of the day, and made an early camp in the evening. There didn't seem to be much point in getting ready for the trial before the witnesses arrived, so they didn't push on too hard.

Dinner was pheasant, shot down by Bishop, and roasted vegetables, dug up by Shandra. It was still too early in the season for mushrooms, but wild carrots, onions and turnips were plentiful.

"You know," said Grobnar, settling down beside Shandra, "ever since we met those two Gnome women in the Duskwood, I've been thinking about the subject of children."

"Oh, gods," said Sand, rolling his eyes.

"What, like where they come from?" Khelgar asked.

"Oh no no, nothing like that," said the Gnome. "I'm already well-versed in such matters. Why, I remember one time, back on Lantan, I helped deliver triplets to a rather angry..."

"Grobnar. Why were you thinking about children?" Kail interrupted. Childbirth was not a subject to be discussed over food.

"Well, you see, I once met a rather pleasant Drow fellow -- nice man, bit of a long story behind it, but that's always the way with these things -- anyway, once we'd lost the torch-brandishing, pitchfork-waving mob, we got around to talking, and he asked me if I'd allow my child to put his hand into a fire to teach about the dangers of doing so."

"You don't _have_ a child," Qara pointed out.

"Thank the gods," Sand mumbled under his breath.

"What does this have to do with those were-gnomes?" asked Neeshka.

"Not much, really. They were just the catalyst of my thinking. But I was wondering what everybody else thought about it. About exposing your child to harm in order to teach them a lesson. What do _you_ think, Kail?"

"Me?" The Gnome was looking at her so earnestly that she bit back the sarcastic reply that she was already leading a group of children around the realms, and gave his question some serious consideration. "I would warn them about the repercussions of their actions, but if they were determined to stick their hand in the fire, I would allow them to do so, under my supervision."

"But that's horrible!" said Shandra. "I can only imagine how raising a child like that would leave them with deep emotional issues as an adult."

"It's how I was raised," she said, quirking an eyebrow at the other woman, who blushed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean any offence. I didn't mean to imply that you..."

"Have deep emotional issues?" she asked in amusement. Shandra blushed again. "Forget about it."

"But why would any parent raise their child like that?" Shandra asked. Kail rolled her shoulders in a shrug.

"Because the best lessons are the ones you learn for yourself? Because sometimes, when a child doesn't listen to warnings, the only thing you can do is let them make their own mistakes and hope that they come away with something valuable from it? And hope that, when they are grown, they are able to understand why you did what you did, and that they don't hate or resent you for it."

"Do you... resent... your father?" Shandra asked. What was prompting the woman's searching questions today? Everybody else was quiet; Casavir was watching her intently as he polished his armour. Sand was watching her equally as intently, as was Neeshka. Khelgar was giving the meat on the spit over the fire his full attention, and Qara was examining her fingernails. Bishop was lounging with his back against a boulder, turning his newly reclaimed skinning knife over and over in his hands. Grobnar was writing on a wad of paper, and she hoped he wasn't making notes about her. Elanee was sat with her eyes closed in meditation, but she didn't doubt that the Elf was listening closely.

"No. I don't resent him. I'm grateful for the freedom that he gave me, and that he always allowed me to come to my own decisions without forcing his opinions or beliefs on me."

"What about your mother? Did she give you the same freedom?" asked Shandra.

"I never knew my mother," she said with a shrug. "She died when I was a baby, in the battle at West Harbor between the King of Shadows and the Neverwinter forces. Daeghun raised me... he's my faster father. I don't know who my real father is."

"Really? That's terrible," said Shandra, her voice dripping with sympathy.

"What about you? Do you have any family in Highcliff?" she asked, as much to divert the discussion away from herself as to learn more about the newest member of the group.

"No, my mother died of marsh fever when I was quite young. I don't remember much about my father, or my grandfather." Kail nodded, and the pair drifted into an uncomfortable silence.

"Well, I for one could not stand by and allow my child to harm himself." Casavir spoke up. "I believe that children should be protected from danger until such a time that they are able to fully understand what those dangers represent. And even when he or she is grown, I would try to spare my child from unnecessary harm, if I could."

"Surprise surprise," said Bishop. "That's the kind of logic that creates places like Ember. You hand-walk people through life all you like, paladin, and you'll be doing the world a great deal more harm than if you let them learn their lessons quickly."

"Neglecting a child accomplishes nothing," said Casavir.

"Who said anything about neglecting? I'm talking about teaching independence. Self-reliance. To not wait around for someone to help you, but to help yourself."

"I can't believe I'm listening to a discussion about raising children, between the two men, out of all the men in Faerûn, who are least likely to ever father children of their own," Qara sniffed derisively.

"Says the girl who would likely torch her own child out of sheer maternal incompetence," Sand smiled.

"I believe that Casavir has the right of it," said Elanee. "No child, no matter how world-wise, can ever be completely self-reliant. And, even as adults, we rely on others to some extent."

"Yeah, and I wonder if you'd say that if you weren't trying to get in Casavir's armour," Neeshka smiled sweetly. The Elf shot her a furious glare of hatred, and Bishop barked out a laugh.

"Grobnar," said Kail before a war could start. "What answer did _you_ give to the Drow who asked you that question?"

"Oh, well, I told him that I'd probably not let my child do that. Not unless they were wearing a flame-retardant suit. I mean, sure, we're all tempted to play with fire sometimes, but burning yourself doesn't automatically equate to learning your lesson. In fact, repeatedly burning yourself could lead to a healthy, productive desire to improve upon existing, or invent new, flame-protective clothing and equipment!"

"I hardly think that some of us need encouragement to play with fire," said Sand pointedly. Ancticipating an outburst from Her Highness, Kail took out her flute and began to play a tune before the sorceress could open her mouth. One song ended and she began another, and then another, and another, and she lost herself completely in the unending flow of music singing from the instrument.

A hand touched her arm, shaking her gently out of her musical trance, and she opened her eyes to pitch-black darkness. The campfire crackled, casting a warm glow on the still forms of blanket-covered bodies. For just how long _had_ she been playing? She turned to her shaker.

"I was getting worried about you," said Neeshka.

"I guess I just lost track of time," she admitted. "You're on watch?"

"No, your new best friend is. He's off lurking in the shadows somewhere," Neeshka said, pulling her face. "I don't know what you see in him." Kail raised an eyebrow at her friend. "I mean, why you put up with him."

"I think it's because he always speaks his mind, and doesn't hide behind bland pleasantries."

"Understatement of the year," said Neeshka. "But what really happened the other night when you went 'hunting'?" The Tiefling's voice suggested that she didn't believe they had done anything of the sort, but what she had in mind was probably quite different from what had actually happened. "And don't give me that bull story about losing your footing and banging your head on a tree. That's not something you would do."

"Look, can we just drop the whole conversation?" she sighed.

"Alright, alright, dropping it," the other woman replied, raising her hands in a defensive gesture. "I'm just worried about you. You haven't been acting like yourself lately." _How can I act like myself if I don't even know who I am?_ Kail thought wryly. "I mean, you've been so grim and fatalistic. More so than usual."

"I've been accused of wantonly slaughtering an entire village of innocent people, and in a matter of days I could be shipped off to Luskan for some slow and inventive torture. Tell me, how _should_ I be 'acting'?"

"Hey, don't think like that! The wizard's pretty smart, and if _he_ thinks your chances are good, then you have nothing to worry about. Besides, I'm not about to let Nasher hand you over to Luskan. I have contacts. People in other towns and cities who owe me favours. I can hide you. Make sure you will never be found."

"You sound like Bishop," she laughed quietly. "He offered to take me somewhere 'hidden', to wait it out."

"How chivalrous," Neeshka grinned.

"Mm. I don't think Duncan would approve."

"Would your foster father?" Neeshka asked, resting her chin in her hands.

"I don't know. He'd definitely approve of _you_ though. He's a very no-nonsense man. I think he'd approve of all of my new friends. Well, except maybe Grobnar. And maybe not Casavir."

"Your father isn't a very religious man, I take it?"

"You could say that," she replied, stifling a yawn. "Anyway, what say we get a little sleep? It may be the last time I ever get the chance to sleep beneath the stars."

Neeshka rolled her eyes, but grabbed her blanket and brought it over to Kail's side. Kail pulled her own blanket from her pack, trying to be quiet so as not to wake her sleeping companions, and crawled under the thick wool, allowing Neeshka to snuggle up close for warmth. And there, surrounded by her friends, she drifted into a deep sleep, and dreamt that the eyes of the entire world were watching her.

o - o - o - o - o

Wish a deep sigh, Kail stared into her empty tankard. She could easily call on Princess Qara, have the Lady of the Ale bring her a fresh drink... but there didn't seem much point. Sand had gone to see Nasher and Nevalle as soon as they had returned from Port Llast. In a matter of days she could be swinging from a gallows. _Shaundakul, grant me favourable winds, and I will give to you my dying breath_, she thought vehemently. She would not, **not!** pray to Tyr for this, but right now, she would take every little bit of help she could get from her own Lord. _Oh how you've changed, Kail_.

She rested her elbows on the bar and sighed. Behind her, taking up the rest of the common room, her companions were talking quietly amongst themselves. Though she could not see them, she knew where each one of them would be. Casavir would be at one of the tables behind her, with Elanee. Grobnar was further down the bar, tinkering with something that was probably quite explosive. Most of his inventions were. It was a Gnome thing. Bishop would be lounging in his chair by the fire, Karnwyr by his feet. Qara would be sullenly clearing tables. Khelgar would be dozing in one corner with an impressive collection of empty tankards. Neeshka and Shandra... she could hear snippets of their conversation as they sat in front of the roaring fire.

"...he went off to fight in the war against Luskan, and he never came home. I heard later that he'd taken an arrow and..." Shandra's voice was tight with emotion. In her mind's eye, Kail could see Neeshka reach out a hand to comfort her. The Tiefling had a surprising store of compassion. "What about yours?"

"Oh, well..." Neeshka sounded a little abashed, "I don't remember his name, actually. There are always guys interested... it's the tail, y'know? But afterwards, I never heard from him again, so I conveniently forgot his name. I'd probably recognise his face if I saw it, though."

Kail sighed again. What was taking Sand so long?

"What about you, Kail?" She spun around on her seat in surprise. Shandra was looking at her expectantly. _What about me?_ She must have looked as confused as she felt. "Your first," the other woman elaborated. She heard Casavir quietly mutter something about 'conversation in decent company', but she didn't pay him any attention. The common room fell away as the memory took her...

_"Valear!" Every muscle, every inch of her screamed in agony. The freezing water clung to her, killing her. She didn't have the strength for another cry. It was all she could do to hold on to the safety rope. Don't let go!_

_He appeared at the mouth of the cave, took one look at her, and barked an amused laugh. Then he jumped down, sliding in the snow to land at the fishing hole in the ice._

_"Trust you to fall in, Kail," he said, amusement rippling through his voice. He reached into the freezing water, took a firm hold of her arms, and hauled her out. Then he helped her to her feet and cocked his head, appraising her as she shivered. "I laughed at you, and that was wrong of me," he said. Before she could stop him he crouched down, slid into the hole in the ice, and dunked his head under, his hands gripping the rope until his knuckles were white. When his head came up from the frigid water he swore in elvish as he dragged himself onto the ice._

_She could only stare at him in shock. He was crazy! The coldness was seeping into her body, clouding her mind. She tried to say that she was cold, but she couldn't even open her mouth._

_"I know," he agreed. Knew that he was crazy, or knew that she was cold? "But now I get to show you how we stave off hypothermia when this happens." He took her by the arm and together they slowly helped each other to ascend to the cave. It was agonising. The water clung to the fur of her clothes, turning the individual hairs into a million tiny needles that stabbed at her skin. Valear's clothing was no better; at least he hadn't been wearing the thicker outer furs like she had. It was those which had weighed her down in the water._

_The fire was still burning brightly in the cave. Valear pushed her to it, then pulled the wind-screen closed across the mouth of the cave behind them. The sight of the trees and the frozen lake disappeared, and the cave instantly darkened. He turned to her and pulled the thick outer fur from her, tossing it aside. He pulled off her boots in the same way, and they joined the freezing fur on the floor. He didn't even bother to attempt to unfasten the frozen leather laces of her shirt; he picked up a knife from beside the fire and used it to slice through the her shirt, which was almost rigid with frozen water. Her trousers received the same attention, but her mind was numb and she was in no mood to protest. When she was stripped to her skin he picked up a thick dry fur from the floor and wrapped it around her, pushing her into a sitting position facing the fire._

_The warmth touched her skin, but it wasn't working fast enough. She was cold through and through, freezing to the bone. She closed her eyes..._

_"Stay awake!" he commanded harshly. She couldn't look around, but she knew that he was removing his clothes in the same manner he'd removed hers. The tearing sound of material came from behind her as her body began to shiver. "That's good. Shivering will keep you warm. When you shiver, your muscles are working, tensing, relaxing, burning energy. That will keep you alive."_

_So she sat there, shivering, telling herself she was alive. She would see Daeghun again. Her foster father was with the rest of Valear's people. He would probably think her stupid for slipping, for landing in the fishing hole._

_"Come here." She managed to turn her head, very slightly. Valear, like she, was wrapped in a heavy bear's fur. His sun-ripened skin looked decidedly blue, his cool green eyes showing the pain of the cold. But she couldn't stand. Her body was too weak. He sank down in front of her, reached out, and pulled her towards him. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling his own fur around her to keep her warm. After a moment she did the same with hers, ignoring the touch of bare skin on bare skin. She was too cold to feel it anyway. And, for a long time, they sat there shivering, staying alive._

_It felt like an eternity had passed, but at last her body was quiet. She was a little chilly, and her body was exhausted from its shaking, but she was no longer freezing; merely damp. Her head was resting against Valear's neck; he was leant back against the wall of the cave, trapping her between the heat from the fire and the heat from his body._

_"I'm sorry," she said, and heard him chuckle quietly. She realised that she had spoken in common, but he didn't seem to mind, and answered her in the same._

_"Don't be. Now you know the dangers of the frozen lake. Consider it a lesson you will never forget." She lifted her head from his neck to stare into his eyes. She liked his eyes; they were expressive, always twinkling with humour. Stupid man! He could have died himself!_

_"You shouldn't have gone into the hole just because you laughed at me," she lectured him. His eyes twinkled as he bent his neck to softly touch her lips with his. She inhaled sharply in surprise, but when she didn't pull away he kissed her more firmly, and all the voices in her head fell silent. Just when she was beginning to enjoy it he pulled his lips away from hers, transferred his kisses to her jaw, and kissed her skin down her neck to her shoulder._

_"Are you warm yet?" he asked._

_"Yes."_

_"Are you warm yet?" he repeated._

_"No," she whispered._

_"Good."_

_It was dark outside when they finally rested. She lay on her back, a fur wrapped around her, looking up into his luminous eyes that shone in the soft firelight. He lay on his side, his head resting in one hand, the other tracing the contours of her face. She smiled as his fingers tickled her skin._

_"A lesson I'll never forget?" she asked._

_"Exactly that, my beautiful Queen of the Ice."_

"If you ask me, no man has ever been able to melt the ice-queen over there."

The tankard flew from her hand faster than a heartbeat, shattering against the wall, sending tiny cubes of glass showering over the fireplace. The whole tavern fell silent. Fenton and Weasel craned their necks around the corner to see what was happening. Bishop lifted his head. If his reflexes had been any slower he would be experiencing an impressive concussion right now.

"Just keeping you on your toes, ranger," she snarled at him, then turned back to the bar, fuming with indignation. _How dare he!_ She didn't care a whit about his stupid implication, but he would _not_ call her that! _Nobody would!_ She tried to take a deep, calming breath as somebody stepped quietly towards her and slid into the seat beside her.

"I hope you're not going to throw a tankard at me, too," said a quiet voice. She blinked in surprise. She hadn't seen Sand come into the Flagon.

"Hmph. Call it mis-directed anger."

"It seemed pretty well-directed to me," he replied in an amused tone. "But as much fun as I'm sure you're having discussing your personal life with your charming companions, I'm afraid I'm going to have to bring you back to less important matters for a while. The trial has been scheduled for tomorrow."

"Nasher doesn't waste a second, does he?" she asked, unable to keep a sliver of admiration from entering her voice.

"Where Luskan is concerned, I suspect not." He laid one of his hands across the top of her arm. "Might I give you a piece of advice, my dear?" She nodded. "Keep your temper until after the trial. You don't want to take the stand with your head hot, or Torio will find a way to use it against you. Once you've been found innocent, and Torio has been clapped in irons, you can beat the ranger all you want."

She grinned and thanked him, and he gave a slight bow as he left. She sighed. _Time to be the Ice Queen again._


	45. The Trial

_45. The Trial_

Somebody knocked on her bedroom door.

"Come in," she called. Sand stuck his head around the door, and, seeing that she was dressed, stepped fully inside the room.

"I've come to escort you to Castle Never, and to impart some last-minute advice as we walk," he explained. She tied her Watch cloak, that Cormick had given her during her first day on the job, and pulled her new boots onto her feet. While she had been gone, her Uncle had provided new clean clothes for her. She wore white trousers, a white shirt with enough lace to make a pair of curtains, black boots polished so that even the most scrupulous of knights would be pleased, and a blue silk sash. With her official blue Watch cloak to complete the ensemble, she looked the bastion of goodness and righteousness.

"Tell me how I look," she said, smoothing her outfit over her body self-consciously.

"Like a giant walking marshmallow," he said frankly. "But it will serve our purposes. After the trial, you may burn it." She groaned, and followed him out of the Flagon. Everybody else was already at Castle Never; even Fenton and Weasel had gone to watch the trial. Apparently it was quite the event to see; seats were filling up quickly, some people were even fighting over them, Sand informed her.

"I didn't realise I was so popular," she said wryly.

"I'm sure you have many loyal adherents, my dear," said Sand, "But the large turnout is more because people wish to see Luskan humiliated. That you are proven innocent will be nothing more than a by-product, as far as the unwashed masses are concerned."

"So you're sure we can win this?" she asked.

"Absolutely. Have faith in my abilities, and your own. You are innocent, and we shall make everybody else see it."

o - o - o - o - o

"I've got a good feeling about this," said Neeshka. She was sat in the gallery, along with the rest of Kail's friends and family. Duncan was at the head of the row, with Casavir beside him. Behind them was Grobnar, with Elanee beside Grobnar and Qara beside Casavir. Khelgar was beside Qara, and she herself was sat to his left. To her left was Bishop, and behind them were Sal, Fenton and Weasel, and Marshal Cormick. Captain Brelaina was down with the witnesses on the floor, in case she was called as a character witness. Shandra was beside the defence stand, where Kail and Sand would soon be standing.

"Well I'm glad one of us has a good feeling," said Khelgar quietly. "Because I get the impression that Luskan ambassador is a real viper... I think the wizard's going to be in fer a challenge alright."

"I don't see why you're worried," said Bishop, leaning back with a yawn. "The Luskans messed up, badly. In a few hours you'll be back to drinking ale in the Flagon, and the little wildcat can get on with this whole squirely façade, and spend her time running to fetch some knight's boots."

"Why d'ye call her that?" asked Khelgar with a disapproving frown. "She has a name, ye know."

"Because wildcats are tempermental little things which hiss and spit at you if you get too close, and they have sharp little claws which they know how to use. Why does the Tiefling call you 'moss-breath'?"

"It's a term of endearment!" said Khelgar. Neeshka rolled her eyes.

"Be quiet, you two. It's just about to start, and I don't want to get thrown out for being in the middle of your arguing," she said.

"But everybody else is talking," said Khelgar. "Besides, I thought this was something of a spectator event? I came to cheer Kail on, not sit back and watch a show."

"Cheering and bickering are two entirely different things," she told him. "Now watch... something's happening."

Two Royal Guards marched in, with two men behind them. One ascended the dais to sit on the chair, and the other climbed the steps to the side and stood by the first man's left arm.

"Lord Nasher Alagondar, Defender of Neverwinter, and Reverend Judge Oleff Uskar, Lord Justiciar of Tyr," proclaimed a man by the door. At once an excited hush fell over the room. Most of the people in here were commoners, and had probably never seen Lord Nasher before. She herself had caught glimpses of him in the past... the years had been fairly kind to him, though he was as bald as Khelgar.

"Bring in the accused," said Nasher. Kail walked in the room with Sand by her side. She was wearing the white and blue outfit that Duncan had arranged for her... at Sir Nevalle's suggestion, of course. Sand looked equally as professional, in a long grey robe that had beautiful patterns depicted in gold and silver thread. The Luskan ambassador, on the other hand, was dressed like a dock-side tramp, in a dress that was _entirely_ too low cut and a cloak that was trimmed in winter wolf fur. _Very tacky_, she thought. Kail and Sand stopped by the stand, opposite the Luskan woman.

"Reverend Judge, let the trial commence," commanded Nasher. Judge Oleff nodded, and addressed the crowd.

"We are gathered here to determine the truth of the crime committed in the small village of Ember... its people slaughtered to the last man, woman, and child," he said. "Under Tyr's guidance shall the truth of this matter be revealed -- and justice delivered. Is the accuser here?"

"I speak for those the accused slaughtered at Ember... and I am here to see that justice is carried out this day," said the ambassador, Torio.

"You don't speak for the dead of Ember, Ambassador," said Kail confidently. "You are the one _responsible_." A murmer arose throughout the crowd.

"That got them thinking alright," whispered Khelgar. Further down the row, Casavir shushed him.

"I think you speak out of turn, _murderer_," said Torio. "You are on trial today, not I."

"Enough! Both of you will be silent," said Judge Oleff. With a smile, Neeshka settled down in her chair. She _definitely_ had a good feeling about this.

o - o - o - o - o

"Oh, this will be fun," said Sand quietly in Kail's ear. "Well said by the way, nothing like a simple turn of phrase to make Torio look the fool."

"And is the accused here? And her defender?" asked Oleff once the mutterings from the audience had quieted down. And an audience they _were_. There were nobles, commoners, knights and merchants. She was determined to give them a good performance. One that they would never forget.

"We are present, and eager to bring the truth of this matter into Tyr's sight, Reverend Judge," said Sand, in a clear and loud voice.

"Very well. We now list the items presented by the accused in their defence, and they will be shown to the people of the court, Lord Nasher, and held aloft for the eye of Tyr to see. First off..."

"It may take a while for them to ge through all the evidence, bless it, and the rest of the ritual nonsense," said Sand quietly. "So if you have anything you want to ask, now's the best time."

"Do you have any advice?" she asked.

"Torio is an arrogant creature, but she is not a Luskan ambassador for nothing. This court is her theatre, her arena, and she has had years of experience in treachery and twisting words," said Sand. "While evidence helps a case,she knows it is often the drama, the belief of everyone here as to who is guilty and who is not that will ultimately win the day. Do not forget that the rabble are here today to see someone _hang_ -- unless you can convince them you have been wronged, and grievously so, it is an uphill battle you fight."

"So what strategy would you suggest?"

"It is somewhat... unorthodox," he said thoughtfully, "but playing upon the animosity between Luskan and Neverwinter may help you."

"But?" she asked. "You don't sound convinced."

"But that will only go so far, and may even help Torio in convincing the court that your actions may have been an attempt to start another war, which no one in Neverwinter wants. I cannot give you a clear strategy, but remember that trading diplomatic words with Torio will be difficult... do _not_ resort to such a duel unless you feel you can absolutely win. And do not threaten her or try to bluff her unless you are equally certain. If you fail, you are bound for the gallows for certain."

"I'll heed your advice," she nodded.

"Well... I'm glad someone does," he said. "I _occasionally_ have a good idea, you know."

"And Sand -- thanks for representing me," she said genuinely.

"Oh. Well, you're welcome. But really, no thanks needed. I assure you, this is a labour of love, and I relish the thought of seeing Luskan lose face... and possibly Torio losing her head. Come, let us deliver some humiliations, one arrow at a time. It looks like they have finished dispensing the evidence," he said, turning to Lord Nasher.

"...and that is the evidence before us," said Judge Oleff. There was another murmur from the crowd.

"Perfect," said Sand. "Look at their faces -- Torio's got quite a task ahead of her. That little harpy, let's see her fly ot of this little trap."

"The accuser, Ambassador Torio Claven of Luskan, may now call witnesses to the stand," said Oleff.

"These pieces of... evidence... if that is what they _truly_ are," said Torio, "can easily be explained away. It may seem extensive, but our witnesses will tell a different story."

"Forgive me, Ambassador," said Kail, "But are you speculating on the truth of the evidence?"

"Speculate? The _truth_ is what were are here to determine. Everything is in question," Torio replied.

"Is it? You seemed quite certain of our guilt. Are you admitting that is also in question?" she asked.

"Of course not, and I aim to prove it."

"Which is it, Ambassador? Are we guilty or not in your eyes? I am finding it difficult to hear the truth in _your_ wordplay," she said, wishing that she was taller, so that she could seem more imposing than the ambassador.

"I suggest you hold your tongue," snapped Torio. "I think you will want to hear what my witnesses have to say." A hushed whisper arose in the crowd.

"My, she has a temper," said Sand quietly. "Well done, I am impressed."

"I understand that you wish to stall the witnesses about to speak, but there really is nothing more _your_ wordplay can do to prevent it," said Torio. "I think this case has barely scratched the surface of what happened at Ember, however... the question is, how has the accused behaved in other circumstances? Let us examine the accused's character, in a place closer to home. I call forth a merchant of Neverwinter, Reylene, to speak on the-"

"Hello! Hello, my, what a _crowd_. Are they all here for me?" the merchant, a Gnomish woman, was escorted into the room. She bowed before Lord Nasher as she took in the crowd.

"Reylene, well met!" Kail said aloud to the merchant. Around her, the crowd mumbled.

"Is there something I should know?" Sand whispered. "She's not like Grobnar, is she?"

"She's a merchant from the Docks District," she whispered back. "She was being harassed by some thugs when I was a member of the Watch. I was going to put a stop to it, but Reylene said that she was happy it was happening, as it meant she had succeeded in her business. I can't imagine how Torio found out about it, though."

"Oh, look at that," said Reylene. "I recognise her. Is she the accused?"

"Yes," said Torio. "And you recognise her, you say?"

"Why yes, as I explained to you," said Reylene to the ambassador. "Came by right in the middle of my donation to the local thieves and let it continue on without interruption."

"This proves nothing," said Kail.

"We shall see," said Torio. "Reylene, you say the accused _let_ this incident of extortion happen? While the accused was a member of the City Watch?" The crowd began mumbling again. That wasn't a good sign.

"Well, yes. I was quite honoured... meant I had finally achieved the status I had been working for for some time."

"I believe the word 'honoured' speaks for itself, Ambassador," said Kail.

"You will _have_ your turn to address these charges," said Torio. "For now, hold your t-"

"'Honoured was the word, yes," said Reylene. "And it's true. It was quite a help to my business, too... as the accused no doubt intended. Are we done now, can I talk about my shop?"

"No, you are done," said Torio. "Thank you, Reylene."

"Reylene, I'd love to talk about your shop with you, if you have the time right now," Kail said to the Gnome.

"What, so you can threaten her mo-" Torio began.

"Oh look, isn't this nice!" said Reylene. " That poor person you're accusing is trying to help me out again, let me get word of my shop out to the public! I have plenty of time to speak, what did you want to know?"

"How have you been? How's business?" she asked,

"Since you stopped by, why, it's excellent! People seem to notice the shop more, and the number of people dropping by.. why, I really can't thank you enough."

"That's all I wished to know. Thank you, Reylene." said Kail.

"Oh. Well, it was good seeing everyone. Please stop by, I have payments to make in order to keep the shop in one piece, you know."

"Ambassador, do you have another witness?" asked Judge Oleff, as Reylene was escorted from the room.

"Another witness, yes... and a most important one, Reverend Judge," said Torio. "Unknown to many, the people of Ember were _not_ slaughtered to the last woman and child."

"This can't be good," she said to Sand.

"I call on Alaine, the last living resident of Ember, to speak on what she saw that fateful day," said Torio. Alaine was escorted into the room to stand before Lord Nasher. "Alaine... thank you for coming here, I know how difficult it must be. But you realise that you are the only voice of Ember that survived the terrible tragedy? Now, please tell the court what you saw."

"I... I saw the accused... there at Ember... she... killed them all..." said Alaine.

"Alaine... no," said Shandra.

"Shandra, can you say anything?" Kail whispered to her.

"Look, when you get the chance, ask her if I would ever travel with someone who would do that -- and where we were when it occurred," said Shandra.

"This isn't good," said Sand. "We need to change the course of the river streaming from her eyes, or we're all going to hang."

"Reverend Judge, I want to cross-examine this witness," she said to Oleff.

"It will be allowed," he replied. "All sides of an issue must be heard. For now, Ambassador, continue."

"Go on Alaine... tell us what you saw," said Torio.

"All those people... and they had no weapons, they had no way of fighting back, but... but..."

"But the accused slaughtered them all, did she not?" asked Torio.

"Yes," said Alaine. "I... I... saw it all. I took refuge in Port Llast... there was nowhere left for me to go."

"You are safe now, Alaine... and the accused cannot harm you here," said Torio. "What more proof is needed? We have a witness, a witness who _saw_ the accused perform the deed. Perhaps we should move on to the sentence now. The accused's guilt is plain."

"I have some questions for her first," said Kail.

"Of course," said Torio. "Please... the trap has already closed, there is no squirming out of it now."

"Alaine, do you know this woman here, Shandra?" she asked.

"You know I do... you brought her to Port Llast."

"Can you speak of her character? Is she a good person? A friend?"

"Yes... I know her well, as a matter of fact. She stopped in Ember during trade season. Not once, but many times."

"And do you know that she has been travelling with me for some time?" she asked.

"No... no, I did not know that," Alaine admitted.

"Reverend Judge, I fail to see where this line of questioning is going..." said Torio.

"Shandra here was travelling with me when Ember was attacked," she said quickly. "Why would your friend do that?"

"Alaine, listen to me," said Shandra. "Something's wrong... whoever did what they did at Ember, it wasn't who you think it was. I would _know_."

"Enough!" said Torio. "The accused has only one counsel, and only _he_ shall speak to the wi-"

"Oh, Ambassador, I freely forfeit the right to question the witness when Shandra here is speaking," said Sand. "I really have no choice."

"Alaine, we weren't even at Ember when it happened... or anywhere near there. Are you _sure_ you saw us?" asked Shandra.

"I... I think I did. Or... well, someone who looked very much like the accused," said Alaine.

"What?!" said Torio, narrowing her eyes.

"It seems she just retracted her certainty of what happened," said Kail. "Could have been someone who looked like me."

"Forget this," said Torio. "Clearly the witness is too distraught to give her testimony properly. So let's choose someone who's not affected by Ember at all... someone the accused knows all too well. I call forth Shandra Jerro."

"What?" said Shandra.

"Shandra, feel free to speak to Torio, if you want," she reassured the other woman.

"I'd rather spit on her," said Shandra. "Besides, there's _nothing_ to testify about."

"Come now, Shandra, don't be afraid," said Torio. "We are in a court of law, you may speak freely here." She gestured for her to stand in the middle of the room.

"About what? About these false accusations?" said Shandra.

"No... I am interested only in your interactions with the accused. You travel with her, do you not?"

"I do," said Shandra.

"Let me ask you a question," said Torio. "Have you ever observed the accused causing... or near... any of the acts that compare to the destruction at Ember?"

"I really don't think..." began Shandra.

"Answer the question," said Torio.

"No," said Shandra.

"Not even your home?"

"Well... yes, but that was different, there were..."

"And wasn't your home attacked twice? And is now burned to the ground?"

"Well, yes, but that was after..."

"Next time when I ask you a question, I want you to _answer_ it, Shandra, without objecting or giving me exceptions. You are safe here, and you need not fear the accused anymore," said Torio. "Because you see, what I am most concerned about, Shandra, is what _you_ think -- what you _really_ think of the accused. We know something of her activities in Neverwinter already, as well as the lands around. So think carefully before you answer."

"Hope you've been treating her well, she's about to come clean," Sand whispered.

"Is she someone who might do such a thing?" asked Torio.

"...no. She... no," said Shandra.

"Ah. And the tone reveals all," said Torio. "Thank you for all your help, Shandra. I think this matter will soon be brought to a close."

"I hope you get what you deserve, Ambassador," said Shandra.

"My dear, all _I_ want is justice.

"I'd like my chance to call witnesses now," said Kail.

"In a moment... but there's one more witness who's critical to this case. Why, I call the accused as a witness, of course," said Torio.

"Then ask what you will, and I shall speak the truth," she replied.

"My question is a simple one. Why did you kill the people of Ember?"

"Ambassador, you presume guilt when no verdict has been reached. I am innocent of these accusations."

"So you have _not_ been to Ember? Not seen the dead at your feet?" asked Torio.

"I went to Ember to see the murder for myself, not to commit it," she replied.

"So you _were_ in Ember? Why? That is Luskan lands, yet there is no record of an invite, or permission to enter our land. It seems we may have hit upon another crime... a trespass resulting in murder of the worst kind."

"Ambassador, as I've said, I am innocent," said Kail. "I mourn the loss of people at Ember, and I am at a loss why anyone would do such a thing."

"I believe that is why we are here, isn't it? Although you can answer better than I."

"But I can't," she countered. "It has no military value. It is not even a viable border target, nor was it worth robbing. So why was it targeted?"

"It seems slaughter was the only reason," said Torio. "An entire village... wiped from the map. Gone."

"But again that makes no sense -- if one wished to kill Luskan people, one would simply declare war while your city is occupied with the war against Ruathym."

"And so you are saying that this may have been militarily motivated? The people of Ember slaughtered solely to test our defenses? Our resolve?" The crowd began to whisper again. "Why is it the innocent must suffer for the aggression of others?"

"I do not know, Ambassador. But in this cause, I think it was actually more difficult to attack the intended target... me."

"What?" said Torio.

"Come now, Ambassador, I am a supporter of Neverwinter and Lord Nasher, and I have come into conflict with Luskans covertly entering Neverwinter before this point," she said. That brought another murmur from the rabble.

"Preposterous. Luskan has not set foot in Neverwinter before... and if there was conflict with you, it was no doubt due to your aggression," said Torio.

"Unable to reach me directly, you sought to lure me to Ember... and then force me into Low Justice in Luskan, which as we know would be no justice at all. But fortunately, the people of Neverwinter resisted, as did Lord Nasher himself, who would _never_ give up a Neverwinter citizen without attempting to find the truth first." There was a loud cheer from the crowd at her mention of the people of Neverwinter.

"Perfect," said Sand. "My word, I think I'm actually learning a thing or two."

"Enough!" shouted Torio. "I have asked you to answer my question... why did you kill the people of Ember?"

"I have answered your question already, Ambassador, but you have yet to answer mine! Why were Luskan forces entering Neverwinter, and why, after I drove them off, did you take revenge on your own people to punish me? There is no sense in it!" she said. The crowd cheered again.

"Let it be shown that the accused refused to answer directly... or at all. I have no more patience for... for this farce," said Torio. "No more questions, Reverend Judge."

"Very well, Ambassador. The accused may now present their witnesses," said Oleff.

"May I?" asked Sand. "I have a brief opening speech with some cutting barbs prepared, but if you'd rather be found innocent as quickly as possible...?"

"Go ahead, I want to hear this part," she smiled. Sand turned to bow at the people within the court.

"Thank you Reverend Judge, Lord Nasher, and fine people of Neverwinter," he said. "These allegations are a farce, my lord. I mean to show you the innocence of this woman -- a squire of Neverwinter -- and the falsehood of the accusations against her. The evidence of the ambassador from Luskan is a transparent, ill-conceived ploy to destroy the life of one of Neverwinter's loyal servants."

"The accused has only been a 'squire' for a short time, conveniently promoted _after_ the massacre of the people of Ember... perhaps as a reward?" suggested Torio.

"Ambassador, you have had your say," said Lord Nasher. "Now it is time for the accused to speak. And as for you, Sand, I would refrain from such accusations without first presenting proof."

"My lord, the difference is, in _my_ statements can be found the truth," Sand replied. Then he turned to speak quietly to Kail. "I was going to call Callum of the Neverwinter Nine... the commander you met in Old Owl Well. After the victory there, his voice carries a great deal of weight."

"Certainly, call him forward," she said. She and Sand had already come up with a witness list, and submitted it to Lord Nasher, before they had set out for Port Llast. Callum had been recalled from Old Owl Well with all haste.

"For our first witness, I summon Callum of the Neverwinter Nine... fresh from his victory over the vicous orc tribes in Old Owl Well," said Sand to the court. Callum was escorted into the room, to stand where the other witnesses had stood before him. He bowed to Lord Nasher before turning to Sand.

"Lord Callum, none can doubt your service and loyalty to Neverwinter, and your successful defense of our sovereign lands," said Sand. "You have met the accused before, have you not?"

"She was a great help to me in defeating the orc bands at Old Owl Well in earlier weeks," said Callum. "Were it not for her assistance, the well would now be held by the orcs. The soldiers of Neverwinter and the realm itself owe a deep debt of gratitide to her, and it is a travesty that these foul charges have been levied against her." Kail was touched. She hadn't realised that she'd made such an impression on the Dwarf.

"Thank you, Lord Callum," said Sand. "We are ever grateful to hear the words of one of the Nine."

"Lord Callum, I have heard you express that the charges in this court are a 'travesty'," said Torio. "And that they are unwarranted."

"That is true," said Callum. "I feel the charges are unfounded."

"Is it because they are given by Luskan?"

"Luskan has much to gain by casting down heroes of Neverwinter. Do I trust that Luskan brings such charges in good faith? I do not, nor do I trust your motives, Ambassador. There is a reason that low justice and high justice were divided by the Luskan-Neverwinter treaty, and I do not believe that any Luskan court or advocate has justice on their mind."

"But... you do know that the voice of the accused's counsel is from Luskan, do you not? From the ranks of the Hosttower of the Arcane before he fled?" asked Torio innocently.

"That banshee...!" Sand swore. The crowd began mumbling again.

"No, I did not," said Callum.

"The history of my counsel or the origin of the charges against me have no bearing on this case," said Kail. "It is Ember that concerns us." But she would be having words with Sand later...

"I agree," said Callum. "This matter concerns Ember, and whether the accused, who has sacrificed for Neverwinter on many occasions, merits such accusations. The origin of such charges -- or slander on the counsel of the accused -- has no bearing on the crime itself. I misspoke, but your behaviour here, Ambassador, only grants support to my words. If there's nothing else...? I think we have all wasted enough time here."

"I thank Lord Callum for his time, Reverend Judge," said Torio. "My questions have been answered to my satisfaction."

"I see Nya, the herbalist we helped in Port Llast, in the audience," said Sand. "She must have travelled here with Alaine. I was thinking about bringing her to the stand -- she could be good for our defence."

"I agree," said Kail. The herbalist had been overjoyed that they had managed to consecrate all the dead of Ember with wyrmsage, and had even given Kail a pendant from her dead love, in thanks.

"The accused calls Nya, resident of Port Llast," said Sand. The woman made her way down from the balcony, to stand before Lord Nasher. "Nya, you encountered the accused in Port Llast, did you not?"

"That's correct, I remember the accused well," said Nya.

"Well met again, Nya," said Kail.

"And well met to you. It is good to see your face again," the woman replied.

"Could you tell us what happened?" asked Sand.

"I have been at Port Llast for the past season to help fortify the town's defence. Though my duties occuped all of my time, I was concerned about the unburied bodies in Ember. I knew from a... former acquaintance... a follower of Kelemvor, that after dying such violent deaths, it was possible they could arise as undead. But I could not see to them, and could not convince anyone to help, until the good squire came."

"It's the least I could do to help, considering how much you were doing," said Kail.

"The squire agreed to put the dead to eternal rest," continued Nya.

"To hide the evidence, perhaps?" asked Torio. "This is meaningless."

"It pains me to hear you make light of such an important task, Ambassador," said Kail.

"I think you have taken my words out of context," said Torio as the crowd began to mutter angrily. "But I forgive you. After all, it is your life at stake. Now, are you done attempting to hold off a verdict, or are you ready, at last, to face justice?"

"No, at leat one more witness, I think, and we shall close the curtain on this stage," said Sand. "Unknown to all, there was _another_ survivor of the Ember massacre. A poor, frightened boy, who had to hide in a _well_ to prevent being slaughtered. How did he know to do such a thing? Why, Marcus has a gift... a gift of sight beyond sight -- the gift of a seer. And he knew the murder would happen and the _true_ identity of the killer."

Marcus was led into the room and stood in front of Sand, surprisingly calm. Kail was impressed. She would have been scared stiff if she was a child put on trial before a large group of people. She was a little scared even now.

"Tell us what you saw, young Marcus... what you saw with your special gift," said Sand gently.

"It was a huge man that killed the village. I don't know how you could confuse him with her. They don't look anything alike. Maybe he used a magic disguise... but disguises like that don't fool me."

"What is this, a joke?" asked Torio. "You bring a child 'seer' onto the stand, ask him a question, and then have him lie for you?"

"Do you have a question for Marcus or not, Ambassador?" asked Kail.

"Of course I do. If he has the power of a seer, then let us test it. Marcus, what do I hold in my left hand?" Both of the woman's hands were concealed from the boy by her stand.

"Your left hand holds an iron ring, the ring of Garius, the Master of the Fifth Tower," said Marcus, his voice oddly distant. "You hold it tightly, as if afraid it will fly from you. Everytime you touch the ring, you see how angry he becomes when one fails him, and you fear his ambition... it is a ring that is more of a chain than a piece of jewelry. And even more so, the ring reminds you of..."

"Enough!" said Torio. "No more questions. It is a ring, nothing more, but the boy guessed correctly. A parlor trick, surely, but the rest is lies, of that be assured." The ambassador obviously wasn't convincing the audience, as a muted whisper passed through the people. "No more questions, Reverend Judge."

"Then I shall call our next witness," said Sand. "Shandra, please come forward."

"Sand... no!" said Shandra.

"This is for Ember, Shandra, not me," said Kail.

"Alright, you've got a good point. Go on, Sand, ask your questions," said Shandra.

"Shandra, you know the accused, have travelled with her, have you not?" asked Sand.

"I have."

"And this crime of which she is accused? As one who knew the people of Ember... of Port Llast... do you really think her capable of such a crime?"

"No, not at all. Look... don't get me wrong -- trouble seems to come at her heels. But... it's how she deals with those troubles that make me say no. She... well, she keeps trying to make things right, even when things are at their worst. And it's really hard not to admire that. And stick by it, no matter what."

"I think that says it all, Shandra. Thank you," said Sand. "I have no more witnesses Lord Nasher."

"The parties have spoken, now all that remains is judgement to be passed," said Oleff. "Lord Nasher?" Kail felt her heart begin pounding in her chest, so loudly she was surprised that nobody commented on it. She had done her best, and hopefully it would be good enough. Her other options were limited; let Neeshka hide her for the rest of her life, or run off with Bishop. Neither was particularly appealing.

"I expect Lord Nasher has already come to the correct decision," said Torio.

"I certainly hope so," said Sand. "It's evident this was a conspiracy to frame a loyal squire of Neverwinter as a criminal of the worst sort."

"Silence, Sand," said Nasher. "I have heard enough from you -- and from you, Torio. And it is enough for me to reach a decision. The case before me was a difficult one... but it seems we now know the identity of Ember's attackers. Nevalle, I want the ambassader, her retinue, and any remaining members of the Arcane Brotherhood of Luskan outside the city gates by nightfall."

"What?" said Torio, stunned by disbelief. "This is no verdict... to think the _Brotherhood_ truly responsible..."

"You brought this case before me -- now you debate my verdict? I would be careful of where you point a sword when you draw it, Ambassador -- and remind your masters in Luskan of that as well," said Lord Nasher. "I think we've wasted enough time on this. Justice has been done, and..."

"I claim the right of trial by combat!" said Torio.

"Ambassador, I am _tired_ of your games, and I will indulge you no longer," said Nasher.

"In a matter of such importance, you would deny me my sacred right of appeal? Can Lord Nasher do that, Reverent Judge? Can he put himself above our god Tyr in this matter?" Torio asked Oleffd

"He... cannot. The ambassador from Luskan is entitled to an appeal, as she describes."

"You're kidding," said Kail.

"Gods, I was hoping she didn't know about that," said Sand.

"And who will fight for you, Torio?" asked Nevalle, by Nasher's side. "This is no battle with words, though I would like to see you try to match your wit against the blade of a true soldier of Neverwinter."

"Indeed, you are correct, Sir Nevalle. Luskan is not the aggressor here, and I only wish to see justice done. But I cannot defend myself and seek justice in this matter... is there not one who will champion the people of Ember?" asked Torio, appealing to the audience. There was a resounding silence.

"I will," said a deep voice at last. "I have listened to these lies, and will answer them -- with my blade, in Luskan's name." And suddenly, Kail realised why the name 'Lorne' sounded so familiar to her. The man who had stepped forward was Lorne Starling; her best friend Bevil's brother. He had gone missing during the Luskan-Neverwinter war, and before she had left West Harbor she had promised Retta that she would keep an eye out for her eldest son. Well, here he was. Working with Luskans, and if Marcus could be believed, responsible for the massacre at Ember.

"A chamption has been declared. Both the defender and the accused are required by Law to report to the Temple of Justice in Neverwinter to undergo the Rite of Tyr... to cleanse themselves in a night of prayer and vigilance," said Judge Oleff. "The following morning, the champions shall meet in combat, so that justice may be decided."

"So be it," said Lord Nasher angrily. "After the Rite is observed, the trial shall be held in the morning, upon the tourney grounds. Arm yourself and be ready, squire... or choose a champion to fight for you. Because by the Gods, we have not come all this way for justice to be denied in this final hour."

"So... it seems this will be decided with blood," said Sir Nevalle. "If that is what it takes to win the day, then that is what we must do. When you are prepared, go to the Hall of Justice and speak with Prior Hlam to start the Rite of Tyr." Kail nodded, then she and Sand made their way out of the hall. The audience had already left, and her friends would be waiting for her outside of Castle Never.


	46. The Rite of Tyr

_46. The Rite of Tyr_

After Kail had been back to the Flagon for a bath and a change of clothes, she and Sand made their way to the Temple of Tyr in the Merchant District, with everyone else in tow. Most of them had been rightfully outraged that Torio had cheated justice by claiming the rite of trial by combat. Bishop said he wasn't surprised, and Neeshka offered to sneak her out of the city again, but everybody else seemed to want to throttle Torio.

Now that she was back in her usual outfit, she finally felt more comfortable. She had eaten a decent meal at Duncan's behest -- more than enough to see her through the night -- and had double checked that all of her throwing knives were in place before securing her daggers in their scabbards at her belt. Her Uncle had surprised her by giving her the Short Sword of Quickness from the wall of the Flagon.

"It'll be of more use to you than me," he had told her. She was grateful; she would take every edge she could get in the fight.

"Is this Rite of Tyr thing really necessary?" she asked Sand as they entered the grounds of the church.

"Unfortunately, yes. Don't worry, Hlam will explain everything to you," he assured her.

It turned out that Hlam was the same man who had explained to Khelgar about his vision quest. He greeted her warmly.

"Are you ready for the Rite of Tyr?" he asked once the pleasantries were over.

"What is this Rite all about?" she asked.

"It is a cleansing ritual of prayer -- it is held in seclusion here within the Hall of Justice. By purifying one's minds and reflectong on one's deeds, sometimes it allows one to achieve the clarity needed to avoid bloodshed in a trial by combat by admitting one's guilt... although I do not beeieve that will happen this night. Your opponent is undergoing the same Rite within a different room. It is Neverwinter law, and it must be upheld. You must complete the Rite and prepare yourself for battle in the morning."

"I'm ready," she said. As ready as she would ever be, at least.

"Your companions will have to leave you alone for the first phase of the Rite. It is tradition."

"All right everyone, you heard them man. Out," she said, shooing them to the exit. He waited until they were gone, then turned to Kail.

"Follow me," he said.

"Hold a moment," said Khelgar, running back into the room. "This Rite of Tyr can wait, I haven't had _my_ say yet."

"What are you doing here?" she asked him.

"Why am I _here_? Well, it's because I want to take your place. That... Torio, she's got you matched up with a Luskan-trained killer! There's no justice in that little viper suddenly bringing a bear out of nowhere to fight you! Let _me_ fight him. He's a... a... dog, not even worthy of you. He fights like a Luskan fights, through daggers in the back -- poisoned daggers, even! I mean... you've shown me that you can win a battle through words, and it may have opened my eyes a _little_, just a little, but seems to me we tried the wordplay, and now the real fight's here."

"Why are you upset?" she asked. It wasn't like she hadn't fought anyone before.

"Because it's not fair, that's why! I don't mind a fight for fight's sake, but this 'crime' they've accused you of, the slaughter of an entire village.. it's _more_ than just a fight, it's..."

"You feel it is unjust," said Hlam.

"You're damned right it's unjust! This isn't just a fight, by the Gods, this is honour, and fairness, and the lives of you and those people of Ember who were slaughtered! After _all_ you went through, all the searching for clues, and those poor villagers... to lay it all on your head... by the Gods, I _want_ to fight him! I'll show him justice!" said Khelgar.

"You are allowed to choose a champion," Hlam said to her. "Do you want him to take your place? You must still undergo the Rite of Tyr, but when Lorne emerges on the field tomorrow, it shall be Khelgar who fights in your stead."

"I appreciate the offer, Khelgar, but this is something I have to do myself," she said.

"But... but why? You've no need to prove your fighting skills!"

"Lorne is a Harborman. The brother of my best friend. It's personal," she said.

"Alright... but look, that Lorne fellow, he carries himself like a warrior. He's dangerous... so... just be careful," said Khelgar, then left, muttering to himself. Hlam led her to a side room, where a statue of Tyr and a candle-lit alter stood in a position of prominence.

"Here you will remain until we come for you in the morning. Gaze upon the face of Tyr, and let him gaze upon you... if you are true to your words and deeds, then you need not fear his judgement," he said. "You are permitted visitors during this time, for often, justice does not solely lie in the words and deeds of the accused, and you may gain truth from the words of those closest to you. We will return for you on the morrow."

Kail looked up at the blind face of Tyr, then sat down on one of the benches to watch a candle wick slowly burning down on the alter. This was going to be a _long_ night.

o - o - o - o - o

She was inspecting the tapestries of the room when Sand stuck his head around the door.

"So, quiet enough for you? I mean, now that Khelgar is done ranting," he said, stepping fully into the room. "I heard it from several streets away. I hope you don't mind if I come in here and just start speaking my mind -- otherwise this place would seem awfully dull."

"What's on your mind?" she asked him.

"I must say, I didn't expect that we would be able to force Torio's hand like this... trial by combat is a rather desperate maneuver, quite unlike her. It's really rather quite pleasing, and if you were to beat Lorne... well that would make me simply ecstatic. I could help, you know."

"Anything you can do to tip the scales is fine by me." No doubt Lorne thought he would have an easy fight on his hands. She would prove him wrong, and she had the RAMP fully loaded just in case things didn't go her way.

"Here, take this," he said, handing her a vial. "It's a special concoction I whipped up to help you tomorrow should Lorne decide to poison, cheat, or simply give you several gaping chest wounds. And, uh, no need for thanks... it would just be embarrassing. Let me leave you to it. But... there is one last thing. Our friend Torio... I think she's rather close to breaking. It's what happens when one is tied to an ill-conceived plan... as I once felt. And I think Torio is one who prefers to be on the winning side. Worth thinking about, especially if she is at our mercy later. Good night." He left as quietly as he'd entered.

_I wonder how many people will turn out for the fight tomorrow,_ she wondered as she pocketed Sand's potion. _And what am I going to do about Lorne? I told Retta that I'd bring her news of her son? How can I tell her that her son is a mass murderer working for Luskan? What will that do to her? What will Bevil think of me if I kill his brother? Maybe I should just ask Khelgar to fight in my place..._

_...But what if Khelgar gets hurt? That would be my responsibility, and I could never let that happen. No, I'm the one who has to deal with Lorne. He made it personal, and I can't let anyone else get hurt because of him._

_Besides, if Khelgar fought, and lost, I'd be shipped off to Luskan for low justice, and I'd blame Khelgar, and resent him for the rest of my short life. At least if I'm fighting, then I only have myself to blame if I lose. Yes, I can't ask anybody else to fight for me. Though I wouldn't say no to a little help from Shaundakul. Maybe I should try to have a bit of sleep, so that I'm nice and fresh for tomorrow. If I just lie down on this bench and close my eyes..._

She had just managed to doze off when heavy footsteps alerted her to somebody approaching. She sat up on the bench and slipped her fingers into her bracer, to grip two of the throwing knives.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to disturb the Rites," said Casavir when he saw her.

"You're not disturbing me," she said with a shrug. "What's up?"

"I was troubled. I thought perhaps by seeking you out, that I could help somehow. I know something of knightly combat, more so than your opponent, I suspect. Are you familiar with the etiquette of the duel?" he asked.

"You know, I don't think I've had chance to read that one yet," she replied, sensing a lecture.

"Do not yield to Lorne... if there is a chance that you can still win, keep fighting, for Lorne will not accept your surrender," said Casavir.

"And that's all there is to knightly combat?"

"Any weapons or spells are permitted in the arena... each combatant is expected to fight to the best of their ability, with all the resources at their disposal. Lorne's strength is in close combat. As such, there is no dishonour in keeping him beyond arm's reach. And if you do not wish to face him, know that I will gladly serve as your champion, if you would permit it."

"Like I told Khelgar," she said, "this is something I have to do on my own. It's important to me."

"I admire your conviction. I am certain that you shall see to it that justice finds Lorne at last. May Tyr guide your blade tomorrow, and may the people of Ember grant strength to your weapons." He held something out to her. "This is something someone gave me once -- I need it no longer. Make use of it tomorrow, and it will have served its purpose. It is a ritual flask, it will heal you and also convey a blessing upon you."

"Thank you," she said, taking the flask and turning it over in her hands. "I appreciate it."

"I shall leave you to your meditations," he said, heading toward the door.

"Casavir? What made you decide to become a paladin?" she asked. It was something she had always wondered. He nodded, and returned to the bench to sit beside her.

"When I was a boy, my family were wealthy merchants. We lived just outside of Neverwinter, and had businesses within the city. I was about eight years old when I saw my first paladin -- a group of them were travelling under one of the Nine to campaign against ogre bands that were harassing villages in the mountains. They were an impressive site, marching in uniform rows, with the sunlight glinting off their armour as if the Gods themselves were conveying their blessing. I watched the road every day after that, waiting for them to return. And when they did, in triumph, I made them tell me all of their stories. They not only told me their stories, but also told me what it truly meant to serve Tyr. From that moment on I knew that I wanted to become a paladin. As soon as I was old enough I found a knight to sponsor me, and moved to the city to begin my training. Though my parents had hopes for me to carry on the mercantile business, they were pleased that I had chosen such a worthy cause to dedicate my life to. And they were supportive of me."

She nodded. There didn't seem much else to say. At least he'd _had_ ambitions when he was a child. When she was younger, all she'd wanted to do was play with her friends, or best the Mossfelds... _or visit Valear and his people..._

"And you, my lady? What made you decide to become a bard?" She shrugged.

"I didn't decide to become one. I just was," she said, trying to explain. "You don't become a bard... you're either born with the talent, or you're not. It's not something that you can learn, it's intuitive and creative. Nobody can teach you creativity and imagination. Some people just don't have it in them. Somebody who has the talent will usually become a bard or a minstrel on their own... though sometimes it takes another bard to recognise the ability and trigger it properly."

"You are referring to your mentor?"

"Lucas, yes." She smiled at the memory of him teaching her to play the flute. "He was a great bard. _Is_ a great bard. Though I haven't seen him for a couple of years. I hope he's well."

"Perhaps it would do no harm to say a prayer for him, whilst you are in the temple," he suggested.

"I might just do that," she smiled, though she would not be praying to Tyr. Casavir raised his hand, then seemed to change his mind. He stood instead, and took a step backwards.

"It may bring you some comfort to know that if Lorne does claim victory in combat tomorrow, he will not out-live you by very long," he said.

"How very un-paladin-like," she grinned.

"Yes, but I heard Neeshka and Shandra discussing it with Khelgar earlier. Though I do not think I would be opposed to assisting them. Good night, my lady. My Tyr aid you tomorrow." He made a hasty retreat from the room.

Kail sighed, then stretched, and looked up at the statue of Tyr; he was one-handed and blind. Why would a God let someone blind him?

"Well, it looks like it's just you and me," she said to the effigy.

"Talking to statues? Now that's a clear sign of insanity... or desperation," said a voice behind her.

"I didn't hear you come in," she said without turning.

"Of course you didn't. If I wanted to be heard, I'd be clanking around like the paladin. Speaking of which, couldn't you have gotten rid of him sooner? His childhood anecdote was hardly interesting," said Bishop. "Oh look, the priests have even lit candles for us. Very considerate of them."

"Why are you here, Bishop?"

"I don't know, really. Maybe because your Uncle decided to force me to help you hunt down that slip of a girl in the first place?"

"You could have said no," she pointed out.

"That wasn't an option, and you know it." He stood behind her and whispered in her ear. "But don't worry... I'll play along with your family blackmail for now." Then he grinned. "If you want, I can help you with Lorne tomorrow. I've been watching him, I know how he fights."

"Why would you help me?" It wasn't as if he was the most charitable person in Neverwinter. As Malin in Port Llast had pointed out, he only served himself.

"Lorne bothers me," he said. "I think I'd like killing him. Still, I don't think you're going to make it, but I don't want to get bored tomorrow, so listen. Lorne's barely keeping it together at the best of times. I could tell at the trial, he wanted to fight you then and there... not the sign of someone in control. So do this -- keep hitting him. But stay out of reach. He won't have any ranged weapons, he likes that falchion too much to fight smart. He doesn't like being weighed down with armour, so you shouldn't have trouble hitting him, so keep hitting him and hitting him and don't stop."

"And what's that going to accomplish?"

"At some point he's going to lose it completely, go berserk. He'll be most dangerous then, but that's when you know you've got him desperate." She groaned inwardly. Why did he have to remind her of her _own_ problem of berserking... something that was beyond her control? When was the last time it had happened? Moire, yes. She hadn't lost control since then. Hopefully she would keep it tomorrow. "He's not going to spare you," Bishop was saying. "Not after all Luskan went through to get you."

She nodded. It made sense. She wasn't planning to yield, in any case. Just as she was about to tell him so, he hooked a finger over her belt and pulled her closer, then with his free hand took one of her daggers from its sheath. Instinctively, her hand went to her other dagger in self-defence.

"Ah-ah, none of that," he cautioned. He tucked her dagger into his own belt and removed a smaller blade... the hunting knife that Marcus had given back to him... and held it up for her to see. "In case you manage to beat Lorne tomorrow... and feel like skinning him after." He pushed the knife into her dagger sheath, and released his grip on her belt. "Anyway, I've said enough. If you want me to take your place tomorrow... I might, or I might not. Ask for me before the fight, and we'll find out." He turned and left, closing the door behind him. Kail sank onto the bench and took a deep breath. She never knew whether that bloody man was trying to kill her or get into her pants. Talk about a loose cannon. She shook her head, and focused on Tyr. This wasn't the time to be worrying about Bishop, or anybody else. Tonight she had to worry about staying alive tomorrow.


	47. The Fires of Hell

_47. The Fires of Hell_

As promised, Hlam had come for her in the morning, with Sir Nevalle and Sir Grayson. Through Sir Nevalle, Lord Nasher had conveyed a promise that, should she prevail over Lorne, he would grant her her own lands, with a noble title, if she wished it. He had also hinted that she might be required to fulfill certain unspecified services, and she doubted they'd be as simple as the services the women in the Moonstone Mask purveyed to their clients.

"You know, at times like this, I feel like your squire," said Shandra. She and Grobnar had come to lend Kail some last minute moral support, while everyone else was in the stands.

"I feel rather like a Gnome, which is good, because I am one," said Grobnar. "My, look at all those people. What I wouldn't give for an audience such as that... well, on a less bloody occasion, perhaps." Kail had to admit, it was an impressive sight. It seemed like the whole city had turned out for the fight.

"You sure about this?" asked Shandra. "It's not too late to choose someone else to fight for you. Not like I don't have faith in you, or anything."

"Shandra, you changed your mind? I'm glad!" said Grobnar. "After all that terrible crying last night and that _phrase_ you kept saying... what was it... 'I don't see how she can possibly...'"

"Grobnar."

"Sorry. Tactless. Again. Sorry. Did I say that?"

"I want him to answer for what he did. I do," said Shandra to Kail. "But that man is built like a mountain, and if he wins... well, he's out of our reach."

"Were you seriously worried about me?" she asked.

"Yeah, but I wasn't _crying_. I haven't cried since I was a little girl, and even then, only when peeling onions."

"I can stop him," she assured the other woman. "I won't let him go free."

"Gods, you're frustrating," said Shandra. "Fine. Go on, see if you can move all of Faerûn while you're at it."

"Oh my!" said Grobnar suddenly. "I think I've gotten some inspiration. 'For all the roads we've travelled, For all the truths we've found, Never before have I felt this way, To the dead of Ember bound.'" As he finished his impromptu recital, Kail felt her skin thickening, and it began to take on a metallic sheen.

"What's happening to you?" asked Shandra in horror.

"Ironskin," Kail smiled. "Thanks, Grobnar."

The guard at the entrance to the arena motioned her for her to enter, and she stepped away from her friends. She entered the tournament grounds to a rousing cheer from the crowd. Behind her, the guard held his torch to the ground, and a wall of fire sprang up, closing off the exit. On the opposite end of the arena, Lorne was entering to a symphony of boo's, and his exit was likewise sealed off.

"Is the accuser or her champion here?" asked Lord Nasher, seated high above the arena.

"We are here," said Lorne.

"Is the accused or her champion here?"

"The accused is here and ready," she replied.

"What takes place in the field here today shall resolve the crime of the razing of the village of Ember, and the death of its people," said Judge Oleff. "Torio Claven, ambassador of Luskan, has accused one in service of Neverwinter, and has called for a trial by combat to resolve the matter. Acting on her behalf is her champion, Lorne, who will fight in her stead. We call upon Tyr to help us settle this matter. Tyr's judgement shall come forth -- through blade and strength, through balance... and resolve."

"Let the fight begin," said Lord Nasher.

"Your mother would be so disappointed to see you now, Lorne," she said, hoping to put him off.

"What do you know about my mother?" he snarled.

"I know that she was proud of you, as a little boy, and that she would cry if she knew what you're capable of."

"Shut up! Just for that, I'm going to carve my name into your hide while you still breathe."

"Ah, but first you'll have to catch me." Lorne leapt forward, raising his falchion. She stepped to the side, and he missed her. Then he swung again, and once more she neatly side-stepped. _And so the game begins_, she thought.

o - o - o - o - o

Sand was sat amongst Kail's friends, watching the battle below. Not that there had been much fighting, yet. So far it seemed mainly comprised of Kail dodging Lorne, trying to wear the giant out. He had to admit, she was handling herself remarkably well. Her opponent was at least two feet taller than her, and she seemed tiny by comparison. Still, she seemed to know what she was doing...

Suddenly, as soon as he had swung his falchion, Lorne spun the opposite way with his fist balled, and managed to catch the bard a blow to the head that sent her spinning.

"Booo!" shouted Neeshka, along with the rest of the crowd.

"Damn dirty fighter," said Khelgar. As if _he_ was the cleanest fighter in Faerûn!

"Well she must have known that would only work for so long," said Bishop.

"And she will be more careful in future," said Elanee. The druid was right; Kail was standing, and walking a little shakily backwards as she threw two knives at Lorne. They both landed, one in his shoulder, one in his thigh, but he plucked them both out and threw them down. _Interesting_. The man must have a very high threshold for pain. Kail threw knife after knife, and he began to wonder where she was getting them all from. Did she had some sort of bag of holding, with an infinite number of knives in it? He raised an eyebrow when she started plucking knives from her _boots_, of all places. She even drew one from inside the back of her trousers!

At last, though, it seemed that she had run out of knives. But instead of reaching for her daggers, she delved into her pocket and brought out a scroll. That was surprising... he hadn't seen her resort to magic, very often -- unless you could count her music as magic -- nor had he expected her to use magic today. He leant forward slightly, trying to read the words from her lips, to anticipate which spell she was using.

It soon became obvious when she immediately grew in size. Now she was slightly taller than her opponent. It was frightening, what could be done with magic, if you didn't know about the arcane arts.

"I gave her that scroll," said Neeshka proudly.

"How very foresighted of you," he remarked.

"Not really. I looted it from an orc corpse way back when, and since you weren't around then, the only people who could make use of it were Kail, Qara and Grobnar. Who would _you_ have given a 'make-me-bigger' scroll to?"

"I see your point," he conceded. Qara's head was big enough already, without magic to inflate it any further. And Grobnar was already enough Gnome for one world to handle, without becoming giant-sized.

He turned his attention back to the fight. Kail had now resorted to close combat, though the crossbow of death that Grobnar had made for her was unused at her belt. That was interesting. Why didn't she use it early on in the fight? She had to know that it would probably kill Lorne, or at least cause him some serious injury, and would give her a significant advantage over him. Was she so confident in her own abilities that she thought she didn't need it, or was she keeping it in reserve, in case of emergency? Probably the latter, he decided. If she thought she didn't need it, she wouldn't have brought it along at all.

Humans were quite varied and interesting in that way. What made one tick, did not affect others in the slightest. It seemed strange that they had no common thread amongst them, no common factor to which they all operated. Almost all of them fought with humanoids, such as orcs, kobolds, giants, and so forth. And they often fought with each other as well, as Luskan was now doing with Ruathym. It was all very strange.

In the arena, Kail received a second blow; the tip of Lorne's sword caught her arm, slicing open her shirt and her skin across the shoulder. The material immediately began to turn red with blood. _Use the crossbow, girl!_ he thought.

"Why isn't she using the crossbow?" he asked the others in frustration.

"Because it's not time yet," said Neeshka.

"And when will it be time? When she's dying from blood loss?"

"When her inner-bard tells her that it's the perfect dramatic moment to use it for maximum effect, of course," said the Tiefling, rolling her eyes.

"What? This isn't a _play_, on a _stage_, this is a fight for her life," he pointed out.

"Not to mention a fight for justice against Luskan lies," added Casavir.

"Of course, of course," he said, waving dismissively at the paladin. Then, sighing, he turned back to the fight. What _was_ Kail playing at?

o - o - o - o - o

Her shoulder ached like hell, but she had managed to achieve her goal, and Bishop had been right; Lorne was berserking. His blows were strong, but not accurate, and she was able to dodge most of them. Then she tripped, and fell onto her back. The sun was blocked by Lorne standing above her, raising his sword for a killing blow. She shoved the knife she was holding back into the sheathe, and pulled the crossbow from her belt. She flicked the safety catch with her thumb, then pulled the trigger, and an entire volley shot into Lorne's chest. He staggered back from the blow, and sank to his knees, letting his sword drop to the ground.

Slowly, she stood up and approached him, with one dagger still in her hand. He moved faster than she had expected, and grabbed the front of her shirt, throwing her bodily over his head and through the air. She tried to spin in mid air, and threw her short sword away so there was no chance of her landing on it. But she miscalculated her spin, and landed heavily on her hip. An agonising pain shot through her back.

She tried to push herself up, then realised the ground was slick with her blood. Immediately she stopped trying to use her bad arm, and managed to somehow clamber to her feet, all the while expecting Lorne to be on top of her. But it seemed the crossbow had done the trick; he was on his knees, and didn't look as if he could get up. Slowly, she made her way over to him, feeling light headed. _Blood loss_, she thought, noting that her shirt was now bright red. And she suspected her hip was broken, or dislocated. Pain tore through her when she tried to put weight on her left leg.

"Finish it," wheezed Lorne, when she was within striking difference. "You have won, so kill me now."

"No," she said. "You will live, and be punished for what you have done. I won't be the one to tell Retta Starling that I killed her son, no matter how much he deserved it."

"Then you won't get the chance to!" he snarled, and lunged for her throat. Somehow, despite being full of bolts and cut in a dozen shallow places from her daggers, he managed to find the strength to not only pin her to the wall of the arena by her neck, but also lift her by it too.

She felt the air being squeezed from her lungs as his grip got tighter and tighter around her neck. Too much tighter, and he wouldn't have to wait for her to suffocate... if he crushed the cartilage of her windpipe, she would die. Frantically, she scrabbled at her side for her one remaining weapon; the knife that Bishop had given her. She felt her fingers touch the hilt, but with her damaged arm, could not make them close around the blade. Her vision began to swim, black flecks edging into her vision.

Then, a familiar feeling started to occur. Her limbs began to tingle, and her whole body felt hot. Her insides felt as if they were burning, as if she was going to explode. Her vision went yellow, then orange, then red, and before she knew what was happening, a wave of flames shot out from her body, searing everything in front of her. Lorne screamed in agony and released his grip, dropping her to the floor. When her vision cleared, all she could see was a blackened corpse, and the acrid smell of burnt flesh stung her nose.

As the black flecks returned to the edges of her vision, she looked up at the crowd; it seemed to be cheering, though she could not hear anything. Then she caught sight of a man, in a green cloak, with long white hair and a white beard and moustache. _Lucas?_ she thought. And then the blackness took her.


	48. Celebration and Reunion

_48. Celebration and Reunion_

Slowly, Kail became aware of her body. It was tired, and it ached, but it was no longer in serious pain.

"I think she's waking up," said a voice. It took her a moment to recognise it. _Duncan_.

"Let me see." _Elanee_.

"Perhaps we should fetch a priest. Not that I doubt your abilities, but another opinion couldn't hurt. She almost died, after all." _Casavir._

"No, no," said Duncan. "I'm sure Kail wouldn't want that. Elanee has done a fine job of healing my niece."

"Thank you, Duncan," said Elanee. Kail groaned. She didn't want to be awake, she wanted to be asleep, or unconscious, or in whatever state she had been in that had made everything go away. Wait, she'd almost _died?_ She let her eyelids flicker open to their worried faces.

"I thought I saw Lucas," she said.

"I'm here, Kail," came another voice from across the room. "And that was quite a performance you gave today." She tried to sit up in bed, and smiled gratefully at Casavir when he helped her. It seemed she was still a little weak from almost dying.

"Can I have some time alone with Lucas?" she asked the others.

"Of course," said Elanee, dragging Casavir behind her before he could protest.

"Well... alright," said Duncan, then waved a warning finger at the old man. "No tiring my niece out, mind."

"Of course not... nothing of the sort," said Lucas, his eyes twinkling in amusement. He waited until the door had closed behind Duncan before speaking. "Was that hulking brute really Lorne Starling? I remember he used to be quite a gentle boy."

"You disappear for two years and that's the first think you say to me?" she asked.

"What would you like me to say? That you look well? You don't. You look like death warmed up, and not quite warm enough yet."

"Thanks Lucas, you're looking well too."

"At least you've remembered much of what I taught you," he said, ignoring her. "Apart from that fiasco at the end. What was that? You let your guard down. You should have killed him quickly while you had the chance."

"I promised Retta that I'd keep an eye out for Lorne for her. I didn't want to have to return to West Harbor only to tell her that I'd killed her son."

"And yet that was the end result anyway. Your duel could have ended only one of three ways; him killing you, you killing him, or you both killing each other. It was was a little to close too the latter option for my liking. If your friends had been any slower in getting to you, you would not be here right now to debate morality with me. There is no such thing as 'mercy' when you're fighting for your life," he told her.

"Alright, I get it. But in the end, I won, and that's what's important. Don't worry, I'll learn from my mistake, but right now I want to just relax and forget about everything that's happened over these past few weeks. I think I've earned that," she said with a sigh. He snorted.

"If it were as simple as being given what you've earned, there wouldn't be any strife within the world."

Ignoring him, she threw back the covers on her bed and swung herself round. Using her bedside table to lean on, she managed to stand, and began to totter cautiously towards her clothes.

"And where do you think you're going? In case you hadn't heard, you almost died."

"I heard," she said, pulling on her trousers. "Would you mind turning around? Thank you. Yes, I heard what Casavir said, but as you pointed out, it's not as simple as being given what you've earned. Right now, I'm going to the common room, to talk to my friends, have a drink, and something to eat. I'm starving, I think I could eat a whole ox."

"Healing will do that to you," he said, turning around to face the window. Several shops were visible on the other side of the street, and the masts of ships could be seen in the distance.

"So, where have you been? What have you been up to?" she asked him.

"Oh you know, here and there, this and that. Wandering, mainly, looking for new songs, or old songs, or songs forgotten since the beginning of time. How is your music going? Have you done anything new since I last saw you?"

"I've written a couple of songs," she said, fastening the laces of her shirt and sitting on the bed to tug on her shoes. "And I learnt some sea shanties."

"Ah. This would be whilst you were on the Double Eagle? Your friends have been telling me all about your adventures. But there'll be time to catch up on that later," he said. "Let's get you down to the common room, if I can't talk you out of it."

o - o - o - o - o

"Kail!" Neeshka stood up as she and Lucas entered the room. "You were _amazing_! The way you kept dodging Lorne... and that dragon fire at the end... I wish I could do that."

"Aye lass, ye did well," said Khelgar.

"I knew you could do it," said Shandra, shooting a warning glance at Grobnar. Fenton and Weasel even waved at her from the corner of the room.

"You should not be out of bed," said Casavir. "You should not have let her out of bed," he added to Lucas.

"You try telling her that," said Lucas wryly. They were talking above her head, as if she wasn't even there! Bloody men.

"How are you, lass?" asked Duncan, guiding her to a bar stool. "Sal! Ale and a big plate of food for my niece."

"And I'll be having some of that ale while you're at it!" called Khelgar.

"Me too!" said Shandra and Neeshka at the same time. They smiled at each other.

"I won't say no to ale either," said Bishop.

"Ale and wine for everybody," said Kail. "I want this to be a celebration. Grobnar, how about some music? Something cheerful, I think."

"Why certainly!" he said, picking up his flute.

"Lord Nasher has ordered the Arcane Brotherhood out of Neverwinter," said Sand, sidling up to her. "And with Lorne dead, Torio has slunk off with her tale between her legs. Very well done, I must say."

"I could have killed him faster," said Qara, handing out tankards of ale.

"Too bad you weren't the one accused of slaughtering a village, then," said Kail, raising her glass to the sorceress. The girl merely sneered, and wandered off to serve the rest of the drinks.

"I even heard a rumour that your words during the trial are being picked apart by scholars throughout the city in an attempt to find the source of your clarity and inspiration," said Sand wryly.

"Good luck to them," she grinned. Spying Bishop in his customary chair by the fire, she walked over to him and removed his knife from her sheath. "Here... too bad it didn't see more use," she said, handing the knife to him.

"You keep hold of it for now. You never know when you'll need it to skin something else big and dumb," he said, with a pointed look in Casavir's direction. "But here's to you... and one less enemy for you to worry about." He held his glass up, and she clinked hers against it before drinking.

"Kail? Won't you play your new song for us?" asked Grobnar. He had stopped playing, at was looking at her expectantly.

"Which one, Grobnar?" she had been working on a few.

"Why, the one you were composing on the way to Old Owl Well, of course!"

"Sure. If you'll play flute for me, then I can play the mandolin and sing."

"I'd love to!" he said happily. "It really is very good," he whispered to Khelgar and Neeshka. Kail put her glass down on the bar and took a seat on a stool beside Grobnar. Sal handed her the mandolin, from behind the bar, and she plucked at the strings, tuning it by ear.

"This song is called 'The Torment of Atanis'," she said. Then she nodded at Grobnar, and they began to play.

_"Atanis was an adventurer, he liked to play the odds,_

_He laughed as he spat in the face of danger, and defied the all-seeing Gods._

_When he sailed the seas, never a prayer to Talos did he make,_

_And even when he fought the undead, Lathander did he forsake._

_He would toss the die with nary a thought for the lovely Lady Luck,_

_And to Oghma he never offered his thanks as he took the knowledge from books._

_The Gods came together one summer's day, to instigate a plan,_

_For they were fed up of being defied by a powerless mortal man._

_The days and weeks they plotted and schemed, but all to no avail,_

_Until Chauntea descended their ranks, in that green and pleasant vale._

_'See here', said she, with a wave of her hand, and a sapling grew from the ground,_

_It grew to the height of a tall ship's mast as the Gods looked on all around._

_'The fruit of this tree grants eternal life, which mortals must never touch'_

_But Atantis, that rogue, was listening near, and for him this was too much._

_When the Gods had ascended he tiptoed near, in his silent Elven boots,_

_Then he reached up into the boughs of the tree, and plucked the heavenly fruits._

_One by one he ate them all, and dropped their seeds at his feet,_

_Then he lay back against the comforting trunk, fell into a deep dreamless sleep._

_The Gods returned to find the thief napping, and malice was in their eyes,_

_For the gifts of the Gods are both bitter and sweet, which to him came as a surprise._

_They lifted him up and carried him off to the very edge of the land,_

_And left him there, slumbering still, on an endless expanse of sand._

_His body grew thirsty as the hours went by, and at last did Atanis awake,_

_Then looking around he saw in the distance a crystal cool freshwater lake._

_He walked to that lake, for what seemed like days, on that hot and endless beach,_

_But when he bent down to drink up his fill, the water ran out of his reach._

_Then he sat and he cried till he had no more tears, and raged at what had come to pass,_

_The Gods, he knew, had seen through his crimes, and now they would have the last laugh._

_He should have known, should have seen, should have guessed, couldn't have imagined! what had come to be,_

_For his gift and his punishment were one and the same; immortal and unending thirst at this shallow inland sea._

_So listen all ye adventurers who like to play the odds,_

_You can laugh as you spit in the face of danger, but never defy the Gods."_

Kail and Grobnar bowed as a loud cheer went up, and she noticed that there were considerably more people in the Flagon now; a few Watch men, a few locals, and a few people she recognised from the merchant district. Even Captain Brelaina was there, talking quietly with Duncan in the corner!

"That was great!" said Neeshka. "Now I know why you were trying to find a word to rhyme with 'Lathander'."

"I'm not sure it's such a good idea lass, singing song's about the Gods... well, unless you know the one about Helm's mother, of course!" said Khelgar. Kail immediately looked around for Casavir, to stall the impending lecture about how Helm doesn't _have_ a mother, but noticed he was busy talking with Lucas. She narrowed her eyes. What did those two have to talk about so in-depth?

"Do you know any songs about home, or love?" asked Shandra.

"Sure, though it's a bit slow... it might kill the mood."

"No, I'd like to hear it," smiled Shandra. Kail shrugged, and plucked her mandolin, then began her rendition of one of the Realm's most popular and well-known songs; Wind by the fireside.

"So as you shiver in the cold and the dark,  
Look into the fire and see in its spark --  
My eye  
Watching over you.

As you walk in the wind's whistling claws,  
Listen past the howling of the wolf's jaws.  
My song  
Comes to you.

And when you're lost in trackless snow,  
Look up high where the eagles go.  
My star  
Shines for you.

In deep, dark mine or on crumbling peak,  
Hear the words of love I speak.  
My thoughts  
Are with you.

You are not forsaken  
You are not forgotten.  
The North cannot swallow you,  
The snows cannot bury you.  
I will come for you.  
Faerûn will grow warmer,  
And the gods will smile  
But oh, my love, guard yourself well --  
All this may not happen for a long, long while"

The cheer was quieter this time, and as she had predicted, the mood was more subdued. She looked around, to judge the effect of her song on her friends. Neeshka was smiling, and Khelgar had a tear in his eye, though he was smiling too. Shandra looked sad, but no doubt with good reason; she no longer had a home to go back to. Sand was merely watching her, and Elanee was watching Casavir for some reason. Bishop was staring into the fire with an unreadable look on his face. Grobnar seemed his usual cheerful self, and Casavir looked thoughtful, even as Lucas was talking to him. Qara merely sighed and rubbed her back as if it pained her. She doubted that the sorceress had even been listening to the song.

"That was beautiful," said Sal behind her, blowing his nose on his handerkerchief.

"Very nice," said Duncan. "But maybe you should let Grobnar play a few now. You know, liven the place up, get people dancing and, more importantly, drinking. And by 'people', I mean the _paying_ customers," he said with a pointed look at Khelgar.

"Bah, yer custom has increased threefold since we first came here," said Khelgar.

"Something lively, coming up!" said Grobnar, taking out his flute again. Kail recognised the jig, and Shandra obviously did too, as she dragged Neeshka onto the floor and started teaching her the steps. It was a common harvest song, and soon Kail joined in. They tried to get Elanee to join them, but the Elf point blank refused to dance to what she called 'quaint Human seasonal dances'.

When Kail grew tired, she took over the flute so that Grobnar could dance with the women; he seemed surprisingly well-versed in dancing, and even taught them the steps to a Gnomish dance, that largely seemed to involve running around in an ever-increasing series of circles.

When Grobnar reclaimed his flute, Kail made a round of the tavern. She spoke to the Watch members, who she had once served with, and with Captain Brelaina, thanking them all for supporting her. She spoke to Fenton and Weasel, and told them how their presence at the duel had bolstered her courage. They both seemed a little flustered by her thanks. Then she spoke to the merchants, who assured her that she would always be welcome at their businesses. Two tankards of ale and several conversations later, she was back at the bar, finishing off a plate of food that Sal had brought for her.

She took out her own flute and accompanied Grobnar; more people were dancing now, and the talking was louder. Two flutes were heard much better than one. As usual when she was playing, time flew by. It wasn't until Sal nudged her, to give her another glass of ale, that she realised it was getting dark outside.

"D'ya think if I ever get my own place, you might come and play for me?" he asked her.

"You're thinking of getting your own tavern?" she asked in surprise.

"Well it's not my ambition to work for your Uncle forever, you know. I've been saving up over the years, and fancy a nice little place in a city somewhere. Maybe here in Neverwinter, or maybe as far away as Waterdeep, or even Baldurs Gate."

"There's always Amn," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but I don't think I could be doing with all them southerners," he said.

"I'd love to play in your tavern," she told him with a smile, and he grinned.

Leaning back against the bar, she took a sip of her ale. Her cheeks felt flushed with warmth; a combination of undeserved praise, alcohol, and the emotion she'd thrown into playing her flute. Grobnar was performing now, a relatively slow song that she didn't recognise. That meant it was probably Gnomish. Still, Elanee and Sand were dancing together, so maybe it was an Elvish song that one of them had requested. A few other people danced, regular patrons and well-wishers alike. Glancing around the room she noticed Casavir and Lucas still talking quietly together, their heads bent down like conspirators. _Hah. If Casavir thinks he can convert Lucas, he's got his work cut out for him_.

"Do you dance, wildcat?" whispered a voice in her ear. She startled slightly. Damn Bishop and his... damned sneaking. He could be almost as quiet as Neeshka when he wanted. Too bad he was never quiet when _she_ wanted him to be. He liked the sound of his own voice too much. Maybe she would suggest that he become a bard.

"Do _you_?" she asked without turning. Let him talk to her back if that's where he approached from. She wouldn't turn to face him.

"This?" he snorted with amusement. "This isn't dancing. It's shuffling. Slowly. But if you're afraid to shuffle around the room with _me_, I could go fetch the paladin for you instead." She turned her head and smiled at him.

"Come on, you can do better than that, Bishop. Or is threatening women the only way you can get them to dance with you?" He narrowed his eyes at her, lifted his leg, placed his knee in the small of her back and nudged her off the bar stool. Luckily she hadn't had _too_ much to drink; she managed to land on her feet. Repressing the urge to glare indignantly at him, she merely raised an eyebrow instead. _He __**wants**__ a reaction. Don't give him one. Don't let him see that he's getting to you. Getting to me? Getting on my nerves, yeah. Shut up_, she told herself as he herded her away from the bar. _Please make it a short song, Grobnar!_

Once clear of the tables and chairs, he wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her close, whilst the fingers of his other hand entwined with hers. She wiggled her fingers slightly but his grip did not loosen. _Trapped._ She contented herself with resting her free hand against his arm around her waist, and let her eyes close, her mind concentrating on the music. The notes flew past her eyes as the tune touched her ears, and she could almost _see_ Grobnar's fingers plucking at the strings of his lute. She was infinitely thankful that the song didn't seem to have lyrics. The Gnome's voice just wouldn't have suited the slow tune. Bishop was right; it wasn't dancing, it was shuffling. Dancing was what you did at the Harvest Fair, in lines and squares, with tempo and rhythm and knee-slapping.

"It's interesting that you consider the offer of having a paladin sent to you a threat," he said quietly, his voice pitched for her ears alone.

"Gods, man. I'm here, aren't I? Do you have to keep bringing Casavir into everything? I was actually beginning to enjoy this, although I suspect I'm going to need a bath after to rid myself of the fleas." He gave a quiet laugh and bent his head closer to her ear.

"You're right. Enough about the paladin. There are more interesting things to talk about. For example, I'm wondering why the name 'Ice Queen' gets your temper hotter than Princess Qara."

A memory sprang into her mind and she closed her eyes, letting it wash over her.

_"Valear?"_

_"Through here, my Ice Queen." She pushed aside the drape of the semi-permanent dwelling. Valear was stood beside the furs of his bed, an open bag on the ground beside him half-packed with items. Tears sprang into her eyes._

_"So it's true. Telas said you were leaving..."_

_"It's true," he confirmed with a nod to his bag. "I intend to leave within the next few days."_

_"But why?" The tears spilled down her cheeks._

_"Because I have heard Shaundakul calling me on the wind. It is time for me to leave here, to travel to Myth Drannor. It is time for me to go. Don't cry, please."_

_"How can I not cry? You're leaving me," she accused._

_"No, my beautiful Maiden of the Ice. Never that. You will always be with me, even when we are apart," he said, crossing the room to embrace her in his arms. She rested her forehead on his chest; a gesture that had become familiar over the past couple of years._

_"Why? Why can't you do Shaundakul's work here? Why can't you worship here? Why do you have to go to Myth Drannor?"_

_"I can't explain it. I just... I know that I have to go. It's the right thing to do. One day you'll understand, Kail. One day you'll hear something call to you; a god, a place, a person, a cause; one day you'll hear the call, and nothing else will stand in the way. With every fibre of your being, you will know that it is right, even when everybody else tells you it is wrong. So it is with me. Telas has already tried to talk me out of leaving, but my mind is set. I hear Myth Drannor calling me. It haunts my dreams when I sleep and my vision when I wake. It calls me with every beat of my heart, and I've fought it for too long already. Now I must go."_

_No. She would never understand. She loved him, and he was leaving. It felt like somebody was squeezing her heart, crushing her soul. She lived for the times that she and Daeghun came to visit the Wild Elves, lived for the moments in which Valear held her, lived for the mornings of waking up beside him, for the nights where they curled up together in his furs and, for a while, forgot that they were two separate people._

_He was leaving._

A warm cheek brushed hers and her eyelids flew open. A pair of golden eyes regarded her with curiosity and amusement.

"I've finally figured out what it is that you do," she said. "For a living, I mean. You talk at people until they pay you to stop. How much would it cost to get you to shut up for the next... oh, say two years?"

"I'm glad that you're still awake," he said, tightening his grip on her. "I thought you'd fallen asleep on me. If I'd known you were tired I would have picked something more lively for the Gnome to play."

"You? This song...?"

"You think you're the only one allowed to be full of surprises, wildcat?" he asked in amusement. "Suffice it to say, it's a very long song and I'm not letting you go without an answer."

"You know," she said, resting her head against his chest to keep from craning her neck up, "I need only open my mouth to have every single person in this tavern jump over here to pull you away from me." He gave a snort of disgust.

"You do that, bard. The paladin would be the first in line, and I'm sure once the two of you are alone you can properly thank him for being your knight in shining armour, and rescuing you from the _dangerous_ predator... hey!" With a slight pang of guilt, and rather a lot more pleasure, she realised that she had curled her fingers and was digging her nails into the back of his hand. _Don't let him see that he's getting to you!_ She quickly relaxed her fingers again.

"He's watching us, you know," said Bishop, his voice dripping with amusement. "Look." He spun her around slightly, and sure enough, she saw Casavir watching them with a dark look on his face. Lucas was talking to him, but the paladin didn't seem to be listening. "Now, about why the name bothers you."

_Oh gods, she was tired! Tired of the games, tired of the bickering, tired of the running, tired of the fighting. For these past weeks she had been telling herself that she was fine, that she was strong, that she was going to survive no matter the cost, that she was going to cut down anything in her way. But now her body, in the arms of some pig-headed ranger and not even half-filled with ale, didn't believe the lie anymore. It felt every cut, every punch, every loss that she had experienced since leaving West Harbor. And it screamed at her for rest._

She lifted his hand, the one that gripped hers, and brushed his fingers across the scar at the top of her chest. _REST._

"You once asked where 'they' hid my heart. There was a man. I was his Ice Queen. I gave him my heart, and when he left, to enter the service of his god, he took it with him." _REST._

He gave a small grunt of surprise, though whether he was surprised by her answer, or just that she had actually answered him at all, she did not know.

"I hope you learnt your lesson from that," he said. She smiled, and leant her forehead against his chest. _REST._

"I always do, ranger," she mumbled. And then, closing her eyes, she gracelessly let unconsciousness take her.


	49. Revelations

_49. Revelations_

Her eyes opened slowly to the ceiling of her room. It was a familiar ceiling, even though she hadn't spent much time here over the past few weeks. Still, it was the closest thing she had to a home at the moment.

"If it weren't for the fact that you look like you've been dragged backwards through the Hells," said a familiar voice from the side of her bed, "I could almost believe that you orchestrated that little... episode."

"How long?" she asked, her eyes still on the ceiling.

"Not long enough. A couple of hours. Duncan wanted to send for the priest, but your friends, Elanee and Casavir, have been healing you by turn." She sighed. "What you're doing is dangerous, Kail."

"What I'm doing?" she asked, rolling over to look at her mentor. Lucas was sat in the chair by the dresser, his fingers steepled in front of him as he watched her. He pursed his lips.

"A whole lot of what you're doing. But what I'm specifically referring to, at this moment in time, is pushing yourself too hard. This morning you almost died. They healed you, and you spent the whole evening performing and drinking. And then you passed out from exhaustion."

"A wise man once told me 'What does not kill, makes strong'." Lucas snorted.

"That wasn't a wise man, Kail, that was me. And if I'd known that you'd take it literally, I might not have said it in the first place. It doesn't apply to a person who very almost bled to death. And it certainly doesn't apply to a person who has a chunk of metal wedged in her chest. Yes, your friends have told me."

"I feel much better now," she said, sitting up in bed.

"No, you don't. You're just telling yourself that," he accused. She winced at his too-knowing look. "Those people out there in that common room believe you when you tell them that you're fine. You might even believe yourself, at times. But you can't fool me, and eventually you won't be able to fool yourself completely either. Do you think you passed out because you are weak? Of course not. You passed out because your body is trying to tell you something. It's trying to tell you to slow down. All you're doing is killing yourself slowly, and this was your body's way of warning you about it. Listen to your body, or you will die. Let your friends and family help you." She felt tears spring into her eyes as he spoke.

"I can't. I have to do this alone. It's my responsibility. My burden. My life."

"Damn it, Kail. Even when you let people close, you keep them at arm's length. Even me. What will it take? Do I have to bring Daeghun here? Do I have to tell him that he'd better come and talk some sense into his daughter before she kills herself?" She blinked away her tears at the anger in his voice. "Everything is a fight to you, isn't it? Everything is an obstacle to be overcome. Somebody tells you that you shouldn't do something, and you do it just to prove that you can. One day, somebody will make you a challenge like that, and it will get you killed."

"Gods, you sound like Casavir," she said, rolling her eyes.

"He cares about your well-being..."

"Ah. I thought you two looked a little close earlier. Finally got fed up of trying to convert me in person, so he figured he'd try to convert me through you?" she asked bitterly.

"Actually, he didn't mention Tyr, or the Gods, at all. But he's worried that you're trying to carry too heavy a burden, both physical and emotional. He's worried that you have nobody to confide in, that you won't open up and let anybody close enough to share the pain that you carry." He sat forward on the edge of the chair, his eyes boring into hers. "So I'm here, now. Talk to me. Share your burden with me." She blinked in surprise, then felt her brows knit into a light frown.

"Lucas, I'm fine. I don't know why everybody keeps telling me that I need to talk about problems that I don't even have. Maybe Casavir's projecting his own issues onto me. Maybe he just can't accept that not everybody carries dark secrets like he does. I just don't know. But really, there is nothing that I need to talk about." He searched her face for a moment, his eyes studying her features, and then he sighed.

"Very well. But I want two promises from you." He waited for her to nod. "First, do not push yourself too hard. Sleep a little more, and if you have to fight, let the others take the heat. Don't throw yourself into combat unnecessarily."

"I promise I'll _try_ not to push myself. I'll even tell Neeshka that she's to make me have some fun. And if that doesn't satisfy you, I don't know what will."

"I suppose that will do," he grudgingly agreed.

"And the second thing?" she asked.

"Put both of those fools out of their misery." She blinked in surprise, her face blank.

"What?"

"The paladin and the ranger almost started their own little war earlier, when you passed out. Those two will never, ever get on, but you're making them ten times worse."

"Me? What did **I** do?!"

"You string them both along. You never _quite_ manage to tell Casavir that you have no feelings whatsoever for him. You shoot him occasional secretive glances and give him coy little smiles. And you play games with the ranger; stupid, dangerous games, like a little child playing with a vicious wolf. Instead of putting him in his place, you encourage him to keep challenging you. Sooner or later they will both snap, and you will be caught in the middle. And it will be nobody's fault but your own."

She narrowed her eyes at Lucas, and felt herself _seethe_, anger burning her soul. And he just sat there, playing innocent, pretending he was trying to help her. _Trying to help her!_

"Get out." Her voice came out low, flat, sharp as a knife. It very nearly sliced the air. Lucas said nothing, but stood and walked to the door, closing it behind him. She sprang from the bed, bolted it, and locked it. Then she paced the room, letting her mind fume.

_How dare he! How dare he accuse her of playing games, of stringing people along! She did no such thing! No, she hadn't told Casavir that she didn't care about him, but she wasn't... stringing him along! What did Lucas want her to say? "Sorry Casavir, but I hate you. Go away."? She wouldn't say that -- it wasn't true. She didn't hate him. She didn't agree with a lot of what he said, but that didn't mean that she hated him. Besides, he'd proven his worth, proven himself trustworthy. She wasn't going to jump into bed with him for it, but for now, at least, he wanted to help her._

_And she played games with Bishop, did she? Stupid games? Dangerous games? Encouraging him to keep challenging her? Did Lucas think that she couldn't take care of herself? Did he see her as some weak, defenceless woman, who needed people to protect her from somebody like Bishop? As for 'putting him in his place'... nothing gave her the right to 'put somebody in their place'. She would never take that from anybody, so she wouldn't do it to anybody either. Put him in his place! What would he be good for then?_

Eventually she got tired of pacing and, still livid, crawled into bed. She stared at the ceiling as her mind churned with anger, but sleep was a long time in coming.

o - o - o - o - o

Lucas stepped into the common room, securing his bag over his shoulder and hefting his walking stick. All heads came up as he made his way to the bar, where Duncan and Sal were arguing quietly. He coughed politely, and Duncan turned to him.

"Don't be alarmed if you hear a lot of banging or smashing," he told the innkeeper. "Though I wouldn't talk to her for a couple of days, if I were you. Best to keep everybody away from her, I think."

"You're leaving?" Duncan asked. He nodded.

"I value my life too much to stay. Besides, Daeghun will want to know that she's safe, and I think I will bring a little peace of mind to Retta Starling as well."

"Fair enough. I can understand you wanting to tell Daeghun how she's getting on." Duncan hesitated. "But... smashing? Really?"

"I'm afraid so. That girl's as stubborn as a mule, with about as much common sense. Don't worry, she'll get over it in a couple of days. A week at most. Definitely no more than two, anyway. Probably best to leave her to it until then." He gave a flourishing bow to the people in the common room. "It was lovely meeting you all, and I hope that we'll meet again." Then he left, walking with a surprisingly spry step for his age.

"What was that all about?" asked Sal.

"I don't know," said Duncan. "But I think tomorrow, I'll be having a talk with my niece."

o - o - o - o - o

Stopping by Kail's door, he pressed his hear to the wood, trying to hear sounds from within the room. It had been over a day since she had locked herself in there and refused to speak to anybody. Even Neeshka could not coax her out. Now he was stood here, with a tray full of food and water, hoping he could get his niece to talk, or to at least listen.

"Kail, lass, it's Duncan," he said, knocking on her door. Silence. "We need to talk. Will you open the door for me?" He sighed. "I need to talk to you about your mother. Now, I can say what I need to say out here, but I think you might like to hear it in the privacy of your own room."

The bolt slid back, and she peered at him warily. Then she opened the door and let him inside, bolting it again after he was clear. Placing the tray on her table, he assessed her frankly; her clothes were wrinkled from being slept in, and her her hadn't been brushed since before the duel. There were dark circles under her eyes... obviously she hadn't had much sleep. She was pale, too, and far too thin, in his opinion. Still, the room was still mercifully intact, and nothing looked broken. At least he had that in his favour.

"What do you want to tell me?" she asked.

"First, eat something," he said, handing her a slice of bread and cheese, covered in jam. One of her favourites, he knew. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"If this is some trick to get me to eat..."

"Nothing of the sort, lass. No tricks from me. I just want to see you eating while you listen to me," he assured her. Eventually she took the bread, and bit into it. Confident that she would eat, he brought the chair to her bed and sat beside her.

"So?" she asked.

"How much do you know of the Time of Troubles?" She shrugged.

"Gods made mortal and forced to search for the Tablets of Fate."

"Right. Well, you know how some of the Gods had plans to save themselves, or to hide themselves, or be reborn?" She nodded. "Of course you do. Lucas probably told you all about it. He's gone now, by the way. Anyway, it's like this. Did you hear about how Bhaal decided to save his power by spawning scores of offspring, each carrying a portion of his divinity, that could be sacrificed to restore him to life?" She gave him a blank stare.

"You have got to be kidding me," she said after a moment.

"No, it's true, he really did..."

"I know it's true. But you've got to be kidding me that you're trying to tell me that my mother was a child of the dead God of murder. They were all killed in some city somewhere... Saradush, or something. Lucas told me. So I don't believe you," she said stubbornly. He sighed. This wasn't going to be easy.

"Most of them died, yes. But a few escaped death because they weren't there at all. Your mother had been travelling with us -- Daeghun, Lucas and I, and a couple of others -- for about three years when she finally told us about her past. She'd been born and raised in a temple of Bhaal, one that wasn't very well known. She lived there for the first five years of her life, until the temple was attacked by a group of knights... servants of Helm and Lathander, she said. The knights, thinking she was just a child being raised to become a future priestess of Bhaal, spared her and took her back to one of their own temples, where she was raised under the guidance of the priests of Lathander. One day, when she was about eleven, she overheard the priests in one of their meetings; she heard them say that the Lord of Murder had been spawning children throughout the realms, and that they were being kept in secret within his temples, to be sacrificed if he should ever die."

He watched Kail as he spoke, waiting for some sort of emotion -- curiosity, anger, fear -- to appear on her face. But there was nothing. It was like she was dead inside. He continued.

"She was afraid that the priests who had been raising her might kill her, or imprison her, or hand her over to someone else who would keep her 'safe'... so she ran away. She didn't dare travel to one of the cities, in case she was recognised for what she was. Instead, she fled to the wilds, where she thought she might survive and be safe. It was a very lonely time for her. She hadn't been taught how to fend for herself, and she didn't have many woodskills... but she managed to get by, by foraging for food, and avoided being targeted as food herself by being too small to make a decent meal for anything. One day, she came across the house of a witch, who agreed to take Esmerelle in and care for her, in exchange for her performing errands and chores. So your mother spent the next few years learning about magic from the old woman, and when she wasn't learning about magic, she explored the woods where the witch lived, and learnt about the trees, and the animals, and the fey creatures."

He noticed that she had stopped eating, and gestured at the bread she held in her hand. She took a bite, but didn't seem to taste it.

"When the old woman died of old age, Esmerelle was lost. She didn't know what to do. So she did the only thing she could think of doing; she continued doing chores around the house, and continued her research with the witch's spells. But she started to get lonely, and realised that she had become used to having somebody else around to talk to, to share stories and experience with, to make the days a little less painful. She began to make excursions away from the house, travelling in different directions, for days at a time. It was during one of those excursions that we met her. She and Shayla clicked right away, and quickly became friends. When it was time for us to move on, your mother asked if she could join us, and we agreed. She must have been eighteen or so by this point.

"As adventurers do, we travelled around the realms, having adventures, getting chased, finding treasures... you know how it goes by now. Then we heard a rumour, that potential war was brewing between Amn and Baldurs Gate. We didn't pay much attention to it at the time... we were near Waterdeep, and it didn't affect us, so we put it down to wild speculation. A couple of years later, as we were making our way north, we heard another rumour, that an army of Bhaalspawn had beseiged the town of Saradush, and another army of them was camped inside, like refugees. That's when your mother told us about her past. She was worried that some of these other Bhaalspawn would come after her, and there was nowhere she could run where she would be safe.

"By this time, Shayla and Daeghun were becoming tired with travelling, and wanted to settle down. It just so happened that we were travelling through West Harbour at the time. It was a tiny, fly-speck village out in the middle of nowhere... nothing but marshes full of dead people for miles around. Remnants of wars with orcs over the centuries, so they say. Esmerelle thought that, here, she might be able to fade into obscurity. Nobody would think to look for a child of Bhaal here... so she decided to stay. Daeghun and Shayla decided to stay too, to settle down and start a family. Lucas didn't want any of it. If he was going to retire, he said, it was going to be somewhere with a thousand inns and taverns, where people could appreciate his tales. So he went off north, to find others to adventure with. I wasn't keen on settling down there either, so I decided to travel south, to see what fortunes might await me in Amn. I didn't stay long... as soon as I got to Neverwinter, I bought the Flagon. And the rest you know."

Kail was silent for a moment as she chewed her mouthful of bread, jam and cheese. Then she took a sip of water.

"Is that why I have my abilities?" she asked at last. "Elanee said that it's nothing to do with the shard in my chest, but during the fight with Lorne... that's not the first time I've used dragon fire."

"No, lass. I think that whatever you have in you that causes that, it must be from your father's side." She nodded.

"Do you know who my father is?"

"No. Even though your mother decided to settle down in West Harbor, she wasn't entirely happy with living in one small place. She missed the open road, and the adventures. It wasn't long before she was making forays into the Mere, visiting some of the other small backwater villages out there, and exploring the old Illefarn ruins. Sometimes she would be gone for hours at a time, sometimes for days. It was a surprise to everybody when they realised she was pregnant... she hadn't even known herself, until the morning sickness started. But she refused to talk about the baby's... your... father. She said she wanted at least some secrets to keep to herself, and share with you."

"Why are you telling me this? And why now of all times?" she asked.

"Well... you deserved to know," he said. "Daeghun made us promise not to tell you anything about your mother, after she died and he decided to take care of you. I think he wanted to tell you himself, when he could find the right time. But he never did. And now, after what you went through yesterday, killing Lorne... and after all the other deaths... Moire, and the other thugs she employed... well, I think it is important you know in case you're feeling any... guilt. Or pleasure. In killing people," he said hastily. She frowned.

"What does me killing people have to do with my mother?"

"After she gave birth to you, your mother said she felt... different. Freer, in a way. Like the Bhaalspawn taint had just... gone. And she was worried that it had passed to you."

"Oh."

"Not that it makes you a bad person! Your mother lived with it all her life, and she was one of the purest souls that I ever knew," he assured her quickly. "It's just something you need to be aware of. Something for you to think about."

"As if I don't _already_ have enough to think about," she said, with the first sign of humour he'd seen from her all night.

"And, err... lass? I wouldn't tell anyone, if I were you," he cautioned.

"Why not?"

"Well, who knows if the few remaining Bhaalspawn are still being hunted? Maybe not. But it wouldn't do to have the wrong sorts of people after you. I think you've got more than enough on your hands with this King of Shadows business."

"I'd like to be alone now," she said.

"Of course, of course. If you need me, you know where I'll be. And don't forget to eat your food. You need to keep your strength up to find Ammon Jerro's Haven, after all," he said as cheerfully as he could force himself to sound. She nodded, and when he left the room, he heard the bolts slide shut behind him.

o - o - o - o - o

_My mother,_ thought Kail, lying on her bed and looking up at the ceiling in the darkness. _Not just dead, but a child of Bhaal. Can the taint of Bhaal's blood really have been passed on to me? I wonder if it's as strong me in as it was in her. Maybe it's stronger. Duncan said she was a good person, a pure soul. I don't feel like a good person. I certainly don't feel like my soul is pure, not after the things I've done._

_Maybe that's __**why**__ I've done the things I've done. Maybe it was my blood driving me to it. Like beating Moire to death. And torturing that Luskan assassin. Maybe I'm __**supposed**__ to kill people. I mean, sure, it was a little sickening the first time I did it... but look how easily I got used to it. Surely that can't be natural. I barely even feel any guilt._

_Could it be that I don't feel guilt because I've only ever killed bad people? Like the duergar, and Lorne, or everybody who attacked me for doing the right thing? Would I feel guilty if I went out and killed some random person out in the street? Would I feel guilty if I killed a begger? A woman? A child? Probably. Maybe. I don't know._

_Surely if I was a bad person, somebody who enjoyed killing, then I wouldn't want to protect people? I wouldn't form emotional attachments? I didn't kill Lorne because I __**wanted**__ to, I did it because I didn't want him to hurt anybody else, and I did it in self defence. I would have been just as pleased if he'd lived, and been punished. Yes, that's it. I'm not a bad person._

_But then why did I torture a Luskan? Why was I curious about it? That is not a normal thing for a person to feel. Maybe there's something wrong with me. Maybe I'm really messed up. All this Bhaal blood inside me, and the dragon blood from my father's side, and the shard... why is it evil things that are inside me? Why couldn't it be the blood of a celestial or a piece of a holy avenger sword?_

_What would everybody think if they knew? All those people who were cheering me yesterday, all those people who were happy that I was victorious over Luskan... if they knew, they'd fear me, just as everybody used to fear the Bhaalspawn in the past. They'd hunt me down and hang me, or hand me over to the Harpers, or somebody else, where I'd be locked away for the rest of my life._

_Could there be any more off-spring of Bhaalspawn out there? Or were the rest of the children of Bhaal killed before they could reproduce? I guess this means that the dead God of murder is my grandfather. I am the granddaughter of Bhaal. I wonder if my father knew. Or if he knew he had dragon blood within his own heritage. Maybe I could find him. Duncan said that my mother used to travel around the Mere a lot, to the other villages. Maybe my father lives in one of the villages of the Mere. But then again, he could have been a travelling merchant, or a guard, or a mercenary, or an adventurer... He could have been long gone, even before my mother found out she was carrying me._

_It's too hot in here. I need some fresh air._

She stood and dressed, leaving off her cloak, but made sure her weapons were handy. Even with Moire's gang dissolved, the Docks could still be dangerous, at night. Quietly, she unlocked and unbolted her door, and tiptoed down the common room. It was late, the tavern closed for business, and the common room was dark, except for the glowing embers of the fire. All the chairs had been stored upside down on the tables, and the floor had been meticulously scrubbed by Princess Qara. Kail stopped by the front door to put on her boots, then let herself out, stepping into the night.

Though it was late, the Docks wasn't totally quiet. The ships in port, moored at the docks, could be heard creaking as they shifted up and down on the water. Smaller boats were pushed against the wooden stairs by the waves, constantly banging, though the sound was somewhat muffled. An occasional guard dog barked as she passed by the buildings, and she heard quiet voices chatting as she walked past the guard posts. The guards within looked at her, but did not stop her. Either they recognised her, or thought that she wasn't a threat. _If only they knew..._

Her random walking took her to the other side of the docks, and she found herself stood in the shadows of a tavern not unlike the Flagon. This was was smaller, though, and looked a little less affluent. A patron stumbled out into the night, and, on a whim, she followed him.

Keeping to the shadows, she observed him as he walked; he stumbled occasionally, but she did not think him completely drunk. He was mumbling to himself, though she could not make out a word he was saying. He was dressed as most people dressed in the docks; simply and comfortably. He could be a longshoreman, or a dock-hand, or a carter, or a messenger... he could have been pretty much anything, except a tavern owner or a sailor. She wondered if he had family. Would anybody miss him if he was gone? Would anybody even notice?

If she was a bad person, if she was the true granddaughter of the lord of murder, then she would be able to kill this man without a second thought. She could just walk upto him, sink a knife into his back, and walk on, and never feel guilt over what she had done.

But she couldn't do that. This man, stranger though he was, had done nothing to harm her. He could be a good man, with a loving family, and a thriving business... and in one selfish act, she would have taken all that away. Which was why she wasn't a bad person. Because she did not kill unless she had to. And when she did have to, she did not revel in it. She merely got the job done, and took no enjoyment from it. She would not become what she hated.

She had gotten too close to the man; he turned suddenly, peered into the shadows, and spotted her.

"Hey, you! Don't you be thinking of trying anything funny with me. I'm armed, I am!" he said, taking out a knife and waving it unsteadily at her. She walked towards him and took the skinning knife from her belt.

"Mine's bigger," she said, holding the knife up for him to see. He squinted at her as she stepped out from the shadows.

"So it is. Say, don't I know you from somewhere?" he asked as she put her knife away.

"I don't think so."

"Sure I do! Why, you're that girl who gave that Luskan murderer a good beating!" he said, slapping his thigh. "Just wait until I tell my wife that I met you! She's your biggest fan... too bad she's not here right now!"

"Yeah, too bad," she said, stepping past him. This was the last thing she wanted.

"Keep fighting the good fight then, eh?" he called as she walked away.

"Sure," she said, and took to the alleys on the other side of the street. Then she leant back against the wall of a building and sighed.

"You know, if you were planning on going hunting tonight, you could have invited me," said a voice not very far away. She jumped in fright, her heart pounding in her chest.

"I'm not hunting, I'm sneaking," she told him factually. "Neeshka says I'm too loud, so I thought I'd get some practice in."

"And trying to be stealthy whilst following drunk people helps your skills... how?" asked Bishop.

"It's not like there's anybody else around at this time of night," she pointed out.

"Except me. And I'm _always_ open to after-hours activities with _you_, wildcat. But for now, it will be getting light soon. Another time perhaps. I'm going back to the Flagon... you stay here and scare the drunkards all you like."

"I'm finished here. I was on my way back to the Flagon when you waylaid me, actually. I need a few hours sleep, badly."

"I'll say," he said, running his eyes over her. "You look like something the cat dragged in. But, if you want to forego sleep for a while, I can suggest something _much_ more pleasurable and invigorating."

"You never give up, do you?" she said with a snort. She turned and left the alley, heading back to the Flagon. He kept pace beside her, easily matching her shorter stride.

"You never _quite_ get around to saying 'no', do you? Besides, somebody needs to keep you on your toes. You already have one sycophant ready and willing to defend your honour... you could always just complain to him if I'm starting to unduly ruffle your feathers."

"Why do you hate Casavir so much?" she asked, hoping for, but not expecting, an honest answer.

"Because he's an idiot? People like him expect everybody to be as understanding and as pious as they are. They spend their lives coddling people, and getting their armour in a twist when they find somebody who doesn't play by their rules. Somebody who likes to think for himself... or herself... somebody who thinks that it's better to be dishonourable and alive than honourable and dead."

"You," she said thoughtfully, "are a contradiction."

"In what way?"

"I believe you're capable of helping the innocent. Like Karnwyr. He was an innocent puppy when you rescued him his Luskan tormenters," she said, pleased she had caught him out in an inconsistancy.

"First of all, I didn't do it to rescue Karnwyr, I did it because I hate Luskans. I would have killed them whether they were torturing animals or making daisy chains."

"Ah, now who's lying to themselves? If you didn't care, you could have left Karnwhyr behind," she countered.

"No, I couldn't. He followed me. And he was whining. It made it impossible for me to get any hunting done."

"Then you could have just killed him yourself, put him out of his misery. Instead, you took the time and effort to tend his wounds and make sure he lived."

"He started to grow on me," sniffed Bishop.

"You want to know what I think?"

"Not really, no."

"I think you _want_ people to hate you. I think you like it, or need it, or something. That's why you're so insulting to everyone... because if they hate you, then you don't have to deal with them as people. You don't have to care about their opinions, or what they think of you, and you don't have to _try_. You don't have to worry about hurting people's feelings, because they expect it of you. You take what you want, when you want, and then you move on. You don't have to form any attachments, there's nothing keeping you in any one place, and you're indebted to no one."

"And _I_ think that Lorne deprived you of air yesterday for longer than anyone realised. But I'm glad that you spend so much time thinking about me, wildcat. Now, here we are at the illustrious Sunken Flagon," he said, pushing the door open. "Maybe we should continue our dance... it wasn't very nice of you, fainting on me like that. For such a little person, you're heavier than you look"

"No, I'm tired. I'm practically asleep on my feet already. Besides, the only reason you danced with me was so that you could annoy Casavir. He's not here now, so you don't have to pretend," she said, yawning.

"True enough. But you know, if you want a nice warm body to keep you company under your covers..."

"Goodnight, Bishop," she said, leaving him in the common room. When she got to her room she stripped and crawled under her blankets, and barely even noticed that the sun was beginning to rise as she fell into a dreamless sleep.


	50. You Can't Raise Ashes

_50. You Can't Raise Ashes_

Neeshka kept to the shadows as she crept down the street. Creeping was second nature to her, and after travelling with Kail for so long it felt good to finally be moving around in a way that was comfortable for her. Travelling openly and freely with people who wore Watch cloaks just seemed... wrong. Not that she didn't understand why Kail joined the Watch, of course. The bard needed to get into Blacklake, so she had chosen the path that was least offensive to her.

Now that Blacklake had been re-opened, there technically wasn't any real need for her to sneak around in the shadows, but she wanted to be sure that no other thieves would see her. The Gods only knew what associating with Watch members had done to her reputation. She just hoped that she hadn't been labelled a collaborator; a sure death-sentence for any thief.

Soon, her mark came into sight. The building was tall and well-lit, in the most affluent area of the Blacklake District. Here lived the Collector, an allegedly eccentric old man who had dedicated his entire life to gathering rare and beautiful pieces of art and artifacts from across the breadth of Faerûn. And rumour had it that Leldon was going to hit this place, and soon.

In fact, it was a little more than rumour. Leldon's newest whore, one of Neeshka's old rivals, had sought her out just to brag about her new position, and to tell her of Leldon's intention to rob every item of worth from the Collector's vault. Of course, it was possible, if not probable, that this was a trap. But that was why Neeshka had come alone.

Everything was so difficult these days. In the times of old, she would have asked Kail to come along. And, at worst, that would have meant bringing Khelgar and Elanee along too. A fairly small operation, by anybody's standards.

But now... now, everything was different. Even if Kail had been fit and willing to come along, Shandra would have followed her. The woman was clinging to Kail like a limpet to a rock. And Grobnar was clinging to Shandra like... well, another limpet to a rock. And, of course, it was getting increasingly difficult for Kail to get out of Elanee's sight. The elf seemed to have taken to tirelessly watching Kail, to the point where the word 'stalking' came to mind. And, for some reason, Elanee was trying to conscript Casavir into stalking Kail too. Not that he needed much convincing. It was obvious to anybody with eyes that Casavir was sweet on Kail. She had watched him watching her, when he thought he wasn't being watched himself. And it was equally obvious that Elanee was sweet on Casavir, so why she was trying to fan his interest in Kail was beyond her. Perhaps it was some weird elf thing.

Anyway, had she and Kail been able to dodge Shandra and Grobnar, and Elanee and Casavir, by sneaking out of the Flagon, the chances of them then avoiding Bishop, who seemed to be following Kail around just to piss her off, and Sand, who had taken to hanging around the Flagon in the hopes that Luskan hadn't finished with Kail, were slim.

As it was, Kail wasn't fit for this mission right now. She had been physically and mentally taxed by everything that had happened in Luskan, and the trial by combat with Lorne, and Lucas' visit. She hadn't even left her room in the two days since Lucas had left. So Neeshka was going back to basics; pulling off a job on her own. She had briefly toyed with the idea of inviting Khelgar; after all, she would need somebody strong to help her carry away the goods before Leldon showed up. That would _really_ sting him, to find out that his intended job had already been pulled off by Neeshka.

But then she decided against bringing the dwarf; their tenuous friendship was still young, and although he no longer derided her -- as much -- for stealing, he still wasn't exactly thrilled with her modus operandi. So she had decided against asking Khelgar.

She had to admit, sadly, that her choice in potential accomplices was regrettably small. Casavir would, of course, never 'lower' himself to something like stealing, even for a friend. Elanee wasn't much better. And although Shandra was quickly becoming a friend, she sensed that the newest member of the group would not look too kindly on theft of this scale. Grobnar would probably be happy to come along -- Hells, he probably wouldn't even realise what was going on around him -- but he was small, and couldn't carry overly much. Plus, that would mean having to put up with the gnome's incessant babbling. No amount of loot could make up for that. She didn't doubt that Bishop would happily accompany her in committing acts of grand larceny, and she had to give him credit; the guy was pretty good at sneaking. But his preferred place of sneaking was forests and woods and hills and plains and other boring places with few people and less gold. He probably wouldn't be any good with traps, and the only way to get him to open an unlocked door would be to bash his head against it until one or the other caved in. Likewise, Qara probably wouldn't mind helping out, but the sorceress was a liability. She was unpredictable and dangerous; Qara was just as likely to torch the whole building as she was to rob it. And Sand, as the newest member of the group, hadn't earned her trust yet. She was still trying to feel him out, trying to understand his limits and his boundaries. He was definitely a tough nut to crack.

She sighed, and realised that she was beginning to miss the company of other thieves. There was nothing like sitting around after a big haul and discussing how the job went, picking apart your performance for ways of improving, patting each other on the back over a particularly tough lock picked or trap disarmed. Not many of her new companions appreciated her range of talents.

Slowly, she made her way toward the back door of the Collector's house. The sun was now sinking below the horizon, and the shadows of the buildings and trees around her were long. The local Watchmen in this area were complacent; there was very little crime because most of the people in Blacklake could afford to hire their own guards. And most of them did. That was where solo work had its advantages. A large group would attract attention, and that meant fighting your way in. One could sneak where others would fight, and if you were caught by the Watch either in the act of stealing or possession of stolen goods, they looked much more kindly on you if you hadn't left a trail of bodies in your wake.

Being able to pull off a job without leaving behind any casualties was what distinguished true thieves from common thugs.

So, as the pair of Watchmen she had been observing for the past few minutes slowly made their way towards the Academy, she stepped upto the door of the house and pulled a long pick from her sleeve.

o - o - o - o - o

Kail yawned as she pulled on her boots. She had slept the whole day, from sun-up to sun-down, and it had made a world of difference to her mood. Her dark thoughts of the night before, her thoughts of murder and Bhaal, her thoughts as she followed her drunken fan as he made his way home from revelling at a nearby tavern, were washed away.

True, she didn't feel entirely back to 'normal'. She doubted that she would ever feel normal again. In a way, it felt like she was changing. Like a caterpillar crawling into its chrysalis and emerging as a butterfly. Right now, she felt like she was in the chrysalis stage. Everything was being built up around her; the shards, her heritage, the danger represented by Luskan and the King of Shadows... she just hoped that what emerged from the chrysalis would do more good in the world than it would harm. And she hoped that she would have some say in what emerged, that she could rise above what had been a bucket-load of crappy circumstances to become a better, wiser person.

She hoped that she would survive.

The air in the corridor was warm for once; no doubt Duncan had been keeping the fires in the common room well-fed with the approach of winter. Winter, already. It seemed like only days had passed since she had left West Harbor, when in fact it had been weeks. She couldn't even count how many, she had so thoroughly lost track of time.

Was Daeghun missing her? Was Bevil still training with the militia? Was Tarmas looking for a new apprentice now that she and Amie were gone? Was Brother Merring still trying to teach Harbormen about Lathander? Or had the duergar and bladelings returned in her absence? Was West Harbor in ruins, its citizens slaughtered like the folk of Ember? Was it her fault, for leaving?

It was a more sober Kail who entered the common room, at first unnoticed by her friends. The first person she saw was Qara. The young woman was scrubbing a table and rubbing her back as if it pained her. Khelgar was at the bar nursing a pitcher of ale. Surprisingly, there was only one other empty pitcher beside him; either he hadn't been drinking long, or this was a slow night for the dwarf.

In front of the fire and with Karnwyr lying at his feet, Bishop was holding his own pitcher of ale and staring into the fire. Not far from him, Shandra and Grobnar were playing some sort of board game, and neither of them had any ale. Nor did Elanee and Casavir, who were talking to Sal at the bar. Further down the bar, Sand was talking quietly with Duncan. And, in their usual corner, Fenton and Weasel were engaged in conversation about undoubtedly illegal things. Of Neeshka there was no sign.

Bishop was the first to notice her enter the room; or rather, Karnwyr was. The wolf's head came up and he gave her a lupine grin, tongue lolling from his mouth.

"Ah. Her Royal Highness finally deigns to show herself," said Bishop. Everybody swivelled on their stools to watch her.

"Kail, lass. I'm glad to see you up and about. How are you feeling?" asked Duncan.

"A bit hungry," she admitted with a shrug. "Nothing Sal can't fix."

"You heard my niece, Sal. Go rustle up some food for her. Something good, too, not your usual rubbish."

"So what's been happening whilst I've been.... resting?" she asked, sliding into a seat at the bar beside Khelgar.

"Sir Nevalle was here," said Shandra, somewhat wide-eyed. Kail smiled. Shandra was still somewhat in awe of Nevalle, though whether it was because he was a knight or because he was somewhat good looking, she didn't know. "He stopped by a few times asking for you. He mentioned something about Lord Nasher wanted to see you, to give you some noble titles or something."

"It can wait until after food."

"There has also been a message from Aldanon," said Casavir, giving her uncle a defensive look. "One of the boys who lives upstairs was asked by Aldanon to pass a message to you. But Duncan would not let us give you the message... he said you needed rest."

"What's the message?" she asked.

"Merely that he wants you to go to his house, to speak with him again. But that was two days ago."

"Alright. I'll go and speak to Aldanon before seeing Nasher."

"Can I come?" asked Grobnar, a hopeful look on his small face. "It's just that Aldanon has so many interesting experiments in his house, I was hoping to take another look at them."

"Of course. Anybody who wants to come, can." Her announcement was quickly followed by everybody, even Qara, agreeing to go along.

"Here's your food, Kail," said Sal, placing a plate of meat and vegetables in front of her. She speared a carrot with her fork and popped it into her mouth.

"Mmm, thanks Sal, it's delicious," she smiled. "Have you seen Neeshka around today?"

"Nope, sorry."

"Neeshka is in the Blacklake District," Elanee spoke up.

"What? How do you know?"

"Because Naloch saw her sneaking away from the Flagon, and he followed her to Blacklake."

"What's she doing there?"

"Breaking into somebody's house, it would seem."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" said Kail, jumping from her chair.

"Because you have been locked in your room refusing to speak to anybody," said Elanee drily.

"Then why didn't you go with Neeshka?"

"Because I am not a thief, and I am not interested in becoming one. Besides, Neeshka is a grown woman... usually. She took care of herself long before she ever met you, and she will continue to do so."

"In case you've forgotten, I am single-handedly responsible for killing Lorne, embarrassing Torio, and having the Arcane Brotherhood thrown out of Neverwinter. Don't you think that Garius might take this opportunity to get back at me by striking at my friends when they are alone and vulnerable?" Elanee paled a little at her words, and looked suitably chastened, so she left it at that. "Come on, we need to find her. Naloch can show us the way."

"Naloch is outside the city walls, now," said Elanee. "He spends his nights in the woods, hunting and foraging for food."

"Great, that's just great."

"Who needs that walking fashion accessory?" asked Bishop, standing up with a condescending sneer on his face. "Karnwyr can track your little thief faster than a badger."

"Alright. Anybody who's coming, grab a weapon."

"But lass, what about your food?" said Duncan.

"It can wait."

o - o - o - o - o

"Now, you just sit here and be quiet, and no harm will come to you," said Neeshka, tightening the gag on one of the servants. She had found them in the kitchen and tied them up to keep them out of the way. Then she gave the room a quick going-over, in case it held any valuables. But, apart from a solid silver teapot, it was typically kitchen-like.

Suddenly, a loud crash came from the corridor outside the kitchen, and the sound of metal clashing against metal filtered through to her ears. Damnit! If this was Leldon, he had come earlier than she expected. Slowly, she opened the door a crack and peered out at the carnage. But it wasn't Leldon and his thugs who were creating the commotion, it was Kail! What on earth was the bard doing out of her room? And, behind her, was everyone else.

"Kail? What are you doing here?" she asked, stepping out into the hallway.

"Neeshka! I'm glad you're safe," said Kail. She ducked and sliced through the ribs of one of the house guards, and Neeshka groaned as the guard she had so carefully snuck past went toppling to the ground.

"What are you doing here?"

"I thought you might be in trouble," said Kail, wiping the blood off her dagger. "But what are _you_ doing here? It's not like you need to rob a house for money, we've gotten more than enough over the past few weeks."

"I heard Leldon was gonna rob this place, so I figured I'd humiliate him by hitting it first. I _was_ going to do it quietly, without any bloodshed..." she glanced at the bodies littering the floor, and the red puddles forming on the carpet.

"Sorry. Well, now that we're here, why don't we help you?"

"Sure. I was actually missing the company," she grinned.

"Oh my, look at this," said Grobnar. He was further down the hallway, peering at a vase on a table. "I think it's Turmish. A particularly fine example, too. This is priceless."

"Uh, maybe you shouldn't touch it then, Grobnar," said Shandra, backing away from the gnome.

"Right you are. Wouldn't want to break it. Haha."

"Spread out," said Neeshka, turning to the others. "We're looking for a vault. It may or may not be hidden."

"There's some stairs going up back here, but the door's locked," called Qara from around the corner.

"There's somebody in here," said Bishop, with his ear to the door at the end of the hallway. It was the only door she hadn't opened yet, and she didn't bother to ask him if he was sure about there being somebody in there; his ears were even sharper than hers.

"Want me to go first?" asked Kail, stroking one of the daggers at her hip. Her eagerness to fight was a little disturbing; normally, Kail preferred less violent ways of solving problems.

"No, I'll go. This is my job, after all." She stepped past Bishop, with Kail on her heels and Khelgar right behind. The door handle turned silently in her hand, unlocked and well-oiled. She smiled to herself. Oiled doors were a thief's best friend.

Inside the room, however, was not the Collector, as she had been expecting, but a young woman, not much older than herself. She was dressed like a noble, and glared indignantly at the group as they filed into the room.

"Who are you? You're not my guards. What are you doing here?" the woman asked.

"Uh..." said Neeshka, her brain working overtime. She hadn't planned for this bit.

"We're here to get into the Collector's vault," said Kail. Neeshka groaned inwardly at the other woman's use of the truth.

"And why are you telling me this?"

"I find it impossible to lie to such a formidable woman," said Kail, smiling and bowing with a flourish of her cloak.

"Well yes, I suppose I do have that effect on people. Not that the Collector ever notices. He'd put me in a display case if he could. You know, I think he could stand to learn a few things from you. Here, take this key. It will get you to the top floor. You will need the Collector's key to get into the vault though, and he will not want to part with it. But you might be able to get it with the right bargaining chip."

"What did you have in mind?" Neeshka asked.

"I will be your hostage. We will enter his study, your weapon at my back. He won't want to lose the centre-piece of his collection.

"Sounds good to me. Lead the way."

"Why do you think she's doing this?" Neeshka whispered to Kail as the woman, Vania, led the way down an upstairs hallway.

"I suspect that the Collector treats Vania like just another piece of artwork, to be put on display when he decides it. This is her way of showing him that she's not a piece of work, but a person."

"Whoa, that's pretty deep. I just thought she was a backstabbing bitch." Kail grinned at her. It was good to see her smiling again. Lucas had implied that Kail might be extremely angry for a while, but he didn't say what she would be angry about. Whatever it was, it seemed that she'd gotten over it already.

"This is the Collector's room," said Vania, stopping outside a door and slipping a key into the lock. "Now, I suggest that one of you hold a weapon to my back. Maybe the large unshaven man. He looks the sort to slit somebody's throat on a whim." Bishop grinned and pressed a dagger to the small of Vania's back. Then Vania opened the door and stepped into the room.

"Hello, Vania. I... who is this?" The Collector, a middle-aged man with a badly receding hairline, stopped in his tracks at the sight of Bishop threatening Vania.

"I'm sorry, Ninsy," said Vania, and behind her, Neeshka heard Qara snickering at the man's name. "They said they'd kill me if I didn't bring them to you."

"What is the meaning of this?" said Ninsy, drawing himself up higher.

"We want you to open the vault for us," said Kail, and Neeshka was content to let her do the talking for now. Kail had a way with words and with people. If anybody could get 'Ninsy' to open the vault without bloodshed, Kail could.

"They're serious," said Vania, raising the back of one hand to her head as if she felt faint. As far as acting went, it was fairly good. "They killed my bodyguards and they'll kill me too. Do what they say, Ninsy."

"You'll be killed anyway, Vania. It's how people like this work."

"Wait, no! They seem very reasonable. I think if you just give them what they want..."

"I'm sorry, Vania. I've made up my mind. Do your worst, coward," he said defiantly to Bishop.

"Ninsy! How could you? You just don't want them to get into your vault! That's it, isn't it?"

"I will mourn your death greatly, Vania. You can rest assured that I will give you the greatest funeral that Neverwinter has ever known. I will hire _hundreds_ of mourners. But I must be strong, for the good of the collection."

"You greedy old miser! So that's how it's going to be, is it?" hissed Vania.

"Ah, love," grinned Kail. Vania slapped Bishop's dagger away from her back, then turned to Kail and Neeshka.

"Even without his key, there's more you should know. And I see that there's no reason to hold this information back any longer. He has never allowed me into the vault, but I know that there are more locks than just the one his key opens. Before he opens the vault he always stops by the fireplace and one of the book cases in the next room."

"Traitorous wench!" said Ninsy, going red in the face. "After taking you into my home, after everything I bought for you!"

"Thank you, Vania, you're free to go," said Kail.

"Don't forget to grab some of these vases on the way out. They're pretty pricey," said Vania. She grabbed a vase and stalked out of the room whilst the Collector spluttered and went even redder.

"Now, about that key..." said Kail.

"I will never give you the key! Never!"

"We could just kill him, and take the key from his corpse," suggested Bishop.

"But if he doesn't have the key on him, then we'll never find it," said Neeshka.

"Hey, Grobnar," said Kail. "What do you make of this?" She picked up a crystal bowl that was sat on a nearby dresser.

"Well, I'd say it's possibly Amnian. Looks to be a good couple of hundred years old."

"Is it worth much?"

"Oh, definitely."

There was a loud crash as Kail dropped the bowl. It shattered when it impacted the floor, sending fragments of crystal showering across the floor.

"Oh dear, how clumsy of me," she said, and reached for a jade figurine from a table.

"What about this?"

"You fiend!" said the Collector.

"Maztican I'd say, and worth a pretty penny to the right deale... oh dear, you've dropped that too!" said Grobnar in dismay. "How unfortunate."

"Yes, very unfortunate. Now, what about this painting?" she said, reaching for a picture of a ship at sea that was hanging from the wall.

"No!" said Ninsy, going pale. "Please, not the painting! I'll give you the key."

"So good of you. Now, where's the vault, and what's the code for it?"

"The vault is out in the corridor. And the code is in a book out on that shelf over there. That's all I'm saying."

"Should I send him on his way, permanently?" asked Bishop.

"Naw," said Neeshka, tossing him a length of rope. "Just tie him up and gag him."

"I don't see why it was necessary to threaten the man's life, or why it is necessary to steal his belongings and rob him of his livelihood," said Casavir as they left the room.

"Because I have to steal everything before Leldon does. Haven't you been paying attention? I don't care about owning any of this stuff... as far as I'm concerned, the Collector can have it all back once I've finished humiliating Leldon."

"This must be the book with the code in it," said Kail, reaching out to the nearest shelf.

"Ah, I wouldn't touch that if I were you," said Sand from behind her. "I sense a faint trace of magic around it. I suspect it is trapped."

"I hate magical traps," said Neeshka with feeling. They were the only traps she couldn't disarm, and one of the reasons she very rarely worked the Blacklake District.

"Here's a book with a poem in it," said Grobnar, reading a page that had been marked in a book he picked from a different shelf. "Oh, how lovely. 'Nine are we when taken all three, Last one slain then six remain, None survive the first less five'. I wonder what it means."

"I hate maths," groaned Kail. Neeshka gave her a sympathetic pat on the arm.

"It's quite simple, really. If I may," said Sand, plucking the book from Grobnar's hands and walking to the vault with it. "The three numbers that comprise the code, when totalled, make nine. 'Last one slain then six remain' means that the last number must be three, because nine minus three is six. 'None survive the first less five' wants five minus five, so that none are less. So the first number is five, the third number is three, which means the second number must be one, to make the total nine."

"I hope you're right," said Neeshka, entering the digits into the lock on the vault.

"My dear, I am always right, or I would not have said anything." Qara snorted in the background. Neeshka turned the handle of the vault, and the combination locked into place. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"It appears that we're still missing something," said Grobnar.

"Didn't that woman say that the Collector always stops by the fireplace before opening his vault? Maybe there's a lever or something that releases another lock."

"I can see something at the back of the fireplace," said Bishop. "Looks like a key sat in a niche, but there's no way I'm sticking my hand in there to reach for it."

"Huh, get Princess Qara to do it... she likes playing with fire," said Khelgar.

"Watch it, swamp-breath, or I'll stick _you_ in there," threatened Qara.

"Here, let me just douse the fire with this bottle of water," said Grobnar, kneeling down to pour water over the logs.

"Where did you get that, Grobnar?" asked Kail.

"I always keep a bottle of water with me, in case of emergencies, you know."

"What kind of emergencies would require you to use a bottle of water?" scoffed Qara.

"The sort that involve dousing flames to reach small, otherwise inaccessible objects?" he replied, reaching into the fireplace to pluck the key from its hole. Shandra repressed a snicker as Qara glared at the gnome. He handed the key to Neeshka and she slipped it into the vault and turned the handle. The door swung open silently.

"Ooh, what's inside?" he asked, making his way into the vault. It was a decent-sized room, piled high with suits of armour and piles of gold, with old tomes and old figures, and a plethora of other treasures.

"Why, I haven't seen this volume since I was last in Evereska," said Sand, entering the vault and picking up a book from a stand. Elanee followed him to examine the book, and Casavir followed her with a mild expression of disgust. Shandra walked into the vault and gawked at the piles of gold lying around on the table, whilst Qara immediately picked up a crystal statue of a female wizard. Khelgar began admiring a suit of armour on a stand, and Bishop stood leaning inside the vault pretending he didn't care about any of the wealth and culture on show.

"How are we going to carry all this?" asked Kail.

"I don't know... why don't you start organising everyone, get them to sort it into piles, and I'll go and check in the kitchen for sacks or something?" said Neeshka. The bard nodded, and stepped into the vault.

Once she was sure everyone was hard at work sorting the valuables into piles of what could easily be carried, Neeshka hurried down to the kitchen and searched through all the cupboards under the fearful gaze of one of the servants. When she couldn't find any sacks, she removed one of their gags.

"Hey you. Where do you keep the sacks?"

"S-s-sacks?" he stammered, obviously terrified.

"Yeah. Sacks. Bags. Things for carrying lots of other things in. You know?"

"Th-th-there aren't any s-s-sacks, but there's a c-c-cart out back."

"That will do nicely," she smiled, and replaced his gag. Then she hurried back up the stairs to tell her friends to begin bringing the loot downstairs.

_Bang_.

Halfway up the stairs, she heard the unmistakable sound of a heavy door being slammed shut, and she groaned to herself. It was just like those guys to lock themselves in a vault. It was a good job they hadn't done it sooner; she was willing to bet there wasn't a very large air supply in the small room.

"Neeshka," said a familiar, oily voice. "Good to see you again. And so good of you to do all the hard work for me."

"Leldon," she replied, narrowing her eyes at the man who was stood leaning against the vault door. None of her companions were in sight, but from within the vault she heard the sound of muffled shouted and banging. "Something told me you'd be here... although I didn't think you'd get this far. Still, like you said, I've done all the hard work already, so it's not like you needed to use any skill to get here. Good job, too, because if that was the case you'd be dead by now."

"My coin. Where is it?"

"Like I'd tell you. And it's not your coin anymore. After all, you can't seem to hold onto it, or anything else."

"I'll tear the knowledge from you, if I have to. I'll get it back. And what you came to steal, little girl? That's mine, too."

"I'm not scared of you, Leldon. You can't order me around, and you sure as hells can't stop me."

"You think so? So be it, then. I've disposed of your friends, so now it's just you and me. As it should be."

o - o - o - o - o

The inside of the vault was warm, and pitch black.

"Oh Gods, I hate small, dark places," said Shandra. "It reminds me of when I was kidnapped by the githyanki. They tied and blindfolded me, and carried me in a sack so I couldn't struggle."

"Don't worry, Shandra, we'll soon be out of here. I'm sure it was just a gust of wind that caused the door to slam shut," said Grobnar.

"Shush you two, I can't hear," said Kail. She had an ear pressed against the door, one hand cupped around it to try to pick up any noise.

"You can't hear because it's sound-proofed," said Bishop. He also had an ear to the door. "Who in the Hells sound-proofs a treasure vault?"

"If sound can't get it, that means air can't get in," said Elanee gloomily.

"Oh Gods, I can't breathe," said Shandra.

"Bah, let me through. I'll get us out," said Khelgar. In the darkness, Kail felt him approach, and she stepped backward; right into someone tall and armoured.

"Sorry. I hope I didn't step on your toes," she said.

"You did not, my lady. Try not to worry, Khelgar will have us out in no time," said Casavir.

"It's not us I'm worried about," she replied. "Just before the door slammed shut, I heard someone coming up the stairs. At the time, I just assumed it was Neeshka. Now, I know it wasn't."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I wouldn't have heard Neeshka coming up the stairs." She stopped speaking as Khelgar's weapon rebounded off the door with a deep ringing sound. "I'm afraid that I know who's out there."

"Leldon," huffed Khelgar, striking the door again. "Bah, this is useless!"

In the darkness, Kail felt somebody brush past her, and then heard banging on the door.

"Let us out!" shouted Shandra. "I don't want to die! Open this door, you can have all the gold and everything, just let us out!"

"Don't do that," said Kail, grabbing what she hoped was the other woman's elbow and pulling her back from the door. "You're wasting valuable air, and if Neeshka _is_ out there fighting Leldon, you'll only distract her. Just sit down and try to take calm, deep breaths. Once Neeshka has defeated Leldon, she'll open the vault and let us out."

"Better hope that she _does_ beat Leldon. And that she remembers the code," said Bishop. Shandra groaned, and Kail resisted the urge to smack him.

"Somebody just touched me? Who touched me? It was you, you perverted little gnome, wasn't it?" Qara's voice, at the far side of the room, was indignant.

"I'm afraid not. You see, I'm over here, by Sir Khelgar, whereas you are over there, by Sand."

"Sand! Admit it, it was you!"

"I fear the lack of air is making you quite delusional, _girl_. You see, nobody in their right mind would want to touch you, and most people in their wrong mind wouldn't want to touch you either," said Sand dryly.

"Can either of you open this with magic?" Kail asked.

"Ah, no. If it was capable of being opened by magic, we wouldn't have had to go through all that key and code nonsense."

"I could try setting it on fire," suggested Qara. "I might be able to melt it."

"Fire requires air to breath," said Elanee. "And the hotter your fire, the more air it requires. We would quickly suffocate."

"Oh Gods," Shandra moaned.

"I can hear something," said Bishop, once again at the door. "Somebody's opening the locks. Better get that crossbow of yours ready, wildcat."

"I'm sure Neeshka would be thrilled to learn you have so much faith in her fighting skills," she replied, but flipped the safety latch off the RAMP and raised it just in case.

Then the door swung silently outward, and she squinted in the sudden burst of bright light.

o - o - o - o - o

Neeshka ducked and rolled as Leldon slashed at her. As she stood from her roll she grabbed her daggers from her belt and parried another swipe. She jumped back as Leldon rushed forward, and sent a silent prayer of thanks to Kail for their morning ritual of training.

She had never fought Leldon before, had always avoided a confrontation with him, and now that she was forced to fight, she did so cautiously, never attacking, only defending, as she tried to gauge his ability. She was concentrating so much on defending against his blades, that she didn't see him pull back his leg and kick her in the shin.

"Looks like I don't need that coin to be lucky after all, Neeshka," he said.

"As long as you don't confuse luck with skill, that's fine with me," she hissed, trying to jump back and rub her sore shin at the same time.

"Maybe I'll bury it with your corpse. Then you can take it back to the Hells with you."

"Oh yeah? Do you really think my friends will let you get away with killing me? As soon as you open the vault to grab the goods, you'll be dead." She parried another swipe, and slashed at his arm with her second blade. He dodged it, and brought the hilt of his sword around, trying to strike her across the temple. She ducked, and tried again to get inside his guard.

"Ha! This was never about the treasures in the vault. I don't need them, or want them. All I wanted was a chance to get you, alone. Once I'm done with you, I'm out of here. When the guards show up to arrest the violent thieves who have broken into the Collector's house and slaughtered his guards, they'll find only corpses awaiting them in the vault. There's a limited supply of air in there, and I only need to keep you occupied for a short time before your friends die."

She froze for a second as his words sunk in, and he slashed at her face, scoring her cheek with his sword. Even as she stepped back and raised a hand to her cheek, he attacked again, hacking viciously, trying to overwhelm her with brute strength.

She had to finish this quickly, she realised. It wasn't just her life at stake, it was the lives of everyone in that vault. Not that she'd miss most of them... Kail, sure. And Khelgar, maybe. And perhaps Shandra, just a little. But the rest of them didn't concern her too much. They were, if anything, an afterthought.

Deciding that she needed an edge over Leldon, she did something that she hadn't done since she was a little girl, playing pranks on the Priests of Helm who raised her. She focused her mind on the shadows around the room, and they came rolling in towards her. Within seconds, the whole area was enveloped with darkness.

It was a gift of her demonic heritage, or so a hedge-wizard had once told her. That she could manipulate the darkness was a curse, in her eyes. She wanted to be the best thief in Neverwinter, but she didn't want to earn the title with tricks and spells; she wanted to earn it with her skills, with her knowledge, not with the 'gifts' of her demon ancestors. Because if she achieved the title that way, other thieves would always say that she had an unfair advantage, that if she didn't have the ability to shroud herself in darkness, she would never have achieved the title in the first place.

Now, she had other things to consider. Her friends. Her life. Besides, it didn't really count as cheating if nobody saw you do it. And she intended that the only living witness would not leave the room alive.

"Hey! What's going on?" said Leldon, a note of fear entering his voice. Unable to see, he spun quickly in a circle, slashing at the darkness around him. She merely stood back and watched for a moment as he tried to find her. Then, silently, she crept forward.

"I told you before, Leldon. This is _my_ city. I'm going to be the greatest thief in Neverwinter, and nobody can stop me." She stepped forward, slashing at his right arm. Her blade connected with it, and she sliced deeply, cutting through muscle and tendons. Leldon screamed in pain, but at the same time he brought his other arm around and stabbed at her with his dagger. The weapon pierced her armour and she felt pain in her ribs as the blade sliced through her skin.

Desperately hoping that he hadn't managed to pierce her lung, she drove her attack forward again, past his ruined arm, driving her blade into his neck. She made his end mercifully quick, slicing the nerve column running down his spine. It made a sickening crack sound, and he slumped to the floor, letting go of the blade that was lodged in her ribs.

She gasped, as the pressure of the weapon inside her was suddenly released, and grabbed hold of the vault handle to keep from falling down with her foe. She dropped her own weapons, and felt around the entry point of the dagger. It was buried deep in her side, but angled down, so that it missed her lungs. That alone had saved her. It hurt like the Hells, but at least she wasn't likely to die immediately from a punctured lung.

When she realised that she was still in darkness, she let the shadows fade away, and the light returned to the room, harsh and bright. She turned her attention to the vault, and, with bloody hands, typed in the code. Then she turned both keys which were still in the locks, and pulled on the handle. The door opened to reveal Kail, squinting in the brightness, with the RAMP raised in defence.

"I think I need healing," she gasped, falling forward. Kail caught her beneath the arms, and she was aware of Khelgar rushing past to help turn her on her back.

"Let me through. I will see to her," said Elanee. Neeshka heard quiet footsteps as the elf approached, and she looked up into calm honey-brown eyes. Slender fingers probed expertly at the dagger in her ribs, and she almost passed out with pain. "This needs to come out," said Elanee quietly. She nodded her head slightly, and gasped as pressure was once again exerted on the dagger hilt. The pain lasted a moment and a lifetime, and then it was gone, the steel blade with it. She hoped it wasn't poisoned.

Then, as her blood began to pool around her on the floor, she felt pins and needles throughout her entire body, running both hot and cold at the same time. She realised that she was looking at the ceiling through a blue glow, and understood that she was being healed.

"Thank you," she said to Elanee, sitting up once the healing was over.

"You're welcome. And I hope that this concludes the Leldon saga," said Elanee, gesturing at the corpse which Grobnar was examining.

"You bet it does. Leldon is never going to bother us ever again."

"You know, if I was this Leldon fellow, I would have arranged before-hand for some cleric or other to raise me, in the likely event of my death," said Grobnar.

Neeshka stood, winced, and made her way over to the corpse. She picked up his booted feet and began dragging him towards the stairs.

"Somebody help me with this. We need to take it outside so that Qara can have her wicked way with it."

"Oh? And why's that?" asked Kail.

"Because you can't raise ashes."


	51. Too Late

_51. Too Late_

Kail led her companions through the Blacklake District, ignoring the whispers and stares of the general public. It was only natural that they should whisper and stare; she had briefly been Neverwinter's newest hero. She had been framed for a heinous crime by a hated enemy, forced to defend herself in court, and then fight for their lives. She represented what most of the people themselves wanted to be; a champion. A hero. A victor.

She just hoped the attention would die down quickly.

"I wonder why Aldanon wants to see you again," mused Neeshka, flicking her tail from side to side as she walked. It was something she often did when in deep thought.

"I don't know. Maybe he's found the location of Ammon Jerro's Haven."

"Great," muttered Shandra. Kail knew that the other woman wasn't looking forward to visiting the Haven. Years of her mother's stories had had their effect, and she was convinced that her grandfather's Haven was some sort of death-trap. "Why do we even need to find out anything more about his Silver Sword, anyway? It's not like the githyanki are still after you for the pieces you have."

"Maybe not, but Zeeaire said that the shards I hold were once part of a whole Silver Sword that struck a blow against the King of Shadows. And if the King of Shadows _is_ coming back, it would be nice to know about a weapon that can hurt him.

"The weapon broke. It's can't be _that_ good," said Qara.

"It looks like we have trouble," said Casavir grimly. Kail followed his gaze to Aldanon's house, where half a dozen Watchmen were stood facing off against two men in dirty clothes. On the ground in front of the dirty-clothed men lay Marshal Cormick, bleeding from at least one wound in his chest. Kail broke out into a trot and stopped in front of the officer.

"Sergeant... Brockenburn, right?" she asked. She briefly remembered meeting him in the Flagon during her victory celebration over Lorne and Luskan. But the events of that day, along with many of the names and faces, became fuzzy, washed away during her exhausted collapse.

"That's right, Ma'am."

"What's happened here, Sergeant?"

"We were called to a disturbance and found these two thieves on guard outside Aldanon's house. Marshal Cormick had got here before us, Ma'am, and thought he could arrest them himself. But one of them pulled out a wand of missiles and hit him with it. Now they say that if we come any closer, they'll kill the Marshal."

"Do you mind if I handle this?" she asked, eyeing up the dirty men. Some of the worry-lines from Brockenburn's face immediately smoothed out.

"Of course not, Ma'am. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind dealing with criminals and their ilk when it's just a matter of fight and arrest, but I don't have much experience with hostage situations."

Kail nodded, and stepped forward slightly towards the men in front of the house. She heard her friends move too, but held up her hand, asking them to stay back. Thankfully, they did.

"Stop right there!" said one of the thieves, obviously terrified. He was holding a wand to Marshal Cormick's head. "One step closer and I'll fire. The Gods help me, I will!"

"Arrest these men, Lieutenant," said Cormick. His voice was pained and he wheezed as he spoke. She suspected that one or more of the missiles had broken a rib or two. Moving him could be fatal, as could another missile hit. "That's an order."

"Arrest us, and the Marshal gets it!" said the second thief, though he shrank back a little when she turned her gaze on him.

"These two can't hit the broad side of a barn. They only got lucky the first time. Now, arrest them," said Cormick.

Kail hesitated. She liked Cormick, he reminded her of her father. He spoke his mind, didn't couch his words with bland pleasantries, and cared little for politics. He was a man who only wanted to do his duty, and she didn't want him to die for it. A little voice in the back of her head, the voice that told her that life was just one long performance, suggested that maybe her new-found status of Neverwinter's hero would be of use here. She cleared her throat.

"My name is Kail Farlong. Who are you?" she asked them.

"Kail Farlong?" asked one of the men, a puzzled expression on his face. Then, understanding dawned, and he turned to speak to his friend in what he thought was a whisper. "Oh no, she's that woman who killed all them Luskans. I heard she single-handedly slaughtered every orc at Old Owl Well, too. Aw, I don't wanna die, Old Scab isn't paying us enough for this."

"Um... what do you want?" the second thief called out. He was the one aiming the wand at Cormick.

"I want to get in that house. And I _will_ get in that house, one way or the other. Surrender now, and I will be lenient. If I have to come over there and kill you, I will be very, _very_ unhappy."

"Uh... tell you what. We'll surrender, and tell you everything we know, as long as we can go free after."

"Never!" said Cormick, then broke out into a coughing fit. "Lieutenant, you are _not_ to let these men go free."

She took a few steps back to the rest of the group, and turned to Brockenburn.

"We're going to have to let them go," she said. He opened his mouth to protest. "No, listen to me. I think the Marshal may have broken ribs. If we don't end this soon, he could die. And there's no telling what the thieves inside the house are doing... they could be slaughtering everybody as we speak. What's more important, arresting these two men, or stopping more death and violence?" _Ha, listen to me. I hardly sound like the granddaughter of Bhaal, do I?_

"Alright then," he said with a defeated sigh. "Tell them they're free to go after we've questioned them."

"You have a deal," she called to the thieves. "Put down the wand and come towards us. I will ask you questions, then you're free to go."

The pair hastily made their way over, leaving the wand on the ground, out of Cormick's reach. Obviously they weren't completely stupid.

"Thank you," said one of them.

"Yes, thank you for not slaughtering us like you did all those orcs. We weren't paid to deal with this, we were just supposed to be the look-outs."

"Who paid you, and who do you work for?" she asked.

"We work for a thief named Old Scab. We weren't given the particulars of the job... Old Scab tends to keep details to himself, and keeps people on a need-to-know basis. All I know is that Old Scab was paid big to hit this place."

"How many thieves are inside at the moment?"

"Dunno... they've been coming and going a bit, so it's hard to keep track. Ten, maybe? But it's not them you have to worry about."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Old Scab is famous for his traps. What he does is get into a place, then trap it from the outside in. Makes it hard for people to dig him out."

"Just let me worry about the traps," said Neeshka with a frightening grin.

"Alright, you can go now," said Kail to the thieves. "Um... try to live more honestly."

"Oh, we will, we will. And thank you for your leniency! Sorry about the Marshal," said the second thief. Then, with a quick glance at Sergeant and his men, who were tending Cormick's wounds, the pair scarpered.

"Whilst I am glad that you showed kindness to the thieves, I'm not sure I entirely agree with the decision to let them go free unpunished. Such a message will only reinforce their belief that they can steal and hurt people without repercussions," said Casavir.

"Well, I don't really have time to deal with the paperwork that comes with arresting or killing people," she replied, rolling her shoulders to loosen the knots that were forming. "So in the long run, it was the best option. Now, Neeshka. How long do you think it will take us to get to this... Scab?"

o - o - o - o - o

Progress through Aldanon's house was painfully slow. At first, Kail underestimated Old Scab's ability with traps. It was only after Grobnar accidentally triggered a trap and was left paralysed for half an hour that Kail ordered everybody to stay back while Neeshka cleared the house. After what seemed like hours, the Tiefling returned with the news that the rest of the house was clean.

They made their way slowly through the building, with Khelgar and Casavir leading the way. They had no idea where Old Scab was, nor any idea whether Aldanon was hiding or being kept hostage, so they were forced to conduct a thorough search of every room.

They encountered resistance towards the back of the house, near the kitchen. Kail was content to stand back, appraising her friends and their skills as they fought. Khelgar and Casavir took the brunt of the fighting, of course, but Shandra was shaping up quite nicely too. Although she hadn't been training for very long, she seemed to have a natural affinity for the sword. Confidence would come with time, but at least she wasn't in danger of stabbing herself until she progressed.

Neeshka and Bishop stood with their backs to a wall, taking occasional snipes at thieves who got close to Qara and Elanee. The former was casting spells at the thieves -- and she seemed to have acquired some new ones since Kail had last seen her fight -- and Elanee was using her own magic to hamper their enemies. True to her word, the druid had not shifted form since the time she had nearly lost control in the Duskwood, though she obviously considered her lack of shifting to be a hindrance.

Grobnar had taken out his flute and was playing a tune to inspire the others... though Kail wasn't sure how successful he was being. If anything, everybody seemed angrier than normal.

Sand was stood opposite Kail, but to her surprise he wasn't using magic to attack or defend. Instead, he was fiddling with a bottle that he had pulled from his pocket. Before she could ask what he was upto, he removed the stopper and threw the bottle into the thick of the fighting. The bottle shattered, and thick black smoke came billowing out, filling the room. Kail dashed for the open doorway just before the smoke filled her lungs, and behind her she heard her friends retreating with her, most of them coughing. Khelgar came out last, and pulled the door closed behind him.

"What in the Hells was that?" asked Neeshka, bending over as she coughed out black smoke,

"Yeah. Ye might want to warn us before ye do something like that again," said Khelgar.

"My apologies. It was something I've been working on recently... it was _supposed_ to be a Time-Stop bottle, but I must have got the measurements a little wrong," said Sand.

"What's a Time-Stop bottle?" said Elanee. "I've never heard of it before."

"That's because it doesn't exist yet. Time Stop is a useful, but high level, spell. I thought that I might be able to capture the essence of the spell in a bottle, to be released when the bottle is broken. Just think how useful something like that could be in our quest to... well, whatever it is we're doing."

"But it doesn't work. So it isn't really useful at all," said Qara smugly.

"But it is a _most_ ingenious idea!" said Grobnar. "I wish I had thought of it myself. Do you think, perhaps, that once I have Mister Pointy up and killing again, I might help you with the Time-Stop bottle design?"

"Eh... sure. Just make sure you finish the golem first. That takes priority, after all."

"Oh of course, of course!"

"Luckily, the chances of him ever getting that chunk of scrap metal to work are slim to none," Sand said quietly to Kail. She smiled.

"Shall we go and see if there's anybody left alive in there?" she asked her friends.

As it turned out, there wasn't anybody left alive, and it took quite some time for them to clear all the smoke out of the room. Finally, they were able to access the one place they had not yet looked for Aldanon; the cellar.

o - o - o - o - o

Kail dodged a slash from a dagger, and an arrow whizzed past her leg, hitting her opponent squarely in the kneecap. He dropped screaming to the floor, and another arrow went through his head.

But she did not have time to thank whoever had helped her. Even as her opponent died, another took his place, and she was forced to parry another strike. Around her, her friends were fighting for their lives. Casavir had gone straight for the leader of the thieves, Old Scab. Khelgar and Shandra were fighting side by side against a huge spider, whilst she and Elanee held back two more thieves. Occasional bolts and arrows whizzed past them, interspersed with spells.

Though they made a good fighting team, not everybody came away unharmed. Casavir was already bleeding from an earlier skirmish, and Sand's robe was sliced part-way down his back. He had narrowly avoided having his spin slashed. Grobnar had a bump on his head, but it had been his own fault for walking into a door, so he couldn't truly be considered a casualty.

"Kail, Elanee, drop down!" shouted Neeshka. She did so, and heard Elanee clink to the ground beside her. An instant later, a flurry of arrows and bolts rushed past, impacting the two thieves they had been fighting. Even as the bodies fell, Neeshka, Bishop and Grobnar reloaded their weapons, and fired another round at the spider that Khelgar was fighting. Remembering the RAMP, Kail lifted the weapon, flicked off the safety latch, aimed it at Old Scab, and pulled the trigger. The thief was hit so hard that his body was pushed back against the far wall, and he was dead before he hit the floor.

"Bah, if it isn't Elanee stealing me kills with her damned lightning, it's those lot with their bloody bows," said Khelgar as Kail stood up and brushed the dust off her clothes.

"You were taking too long, moss-breath," said Neeshka, recovering arrows from the floor. In the corner of the room, Aldanon's staff ceased cowering, and one by one they approached their saviours.

"You... you're Kail Farlong, aren't you?" asked the butler, waiting for her to nod. "Master Aldanon was looking for you before... before the thieves came. It's something we discovered in the archives, a matter of greatest urgency."

"Where is Aldanon?"

"He's been kidnapped. The thieves were on us in seconds. They said they had a message from you. We'd been looking for you, so of course we believed them. He... that is, we... had been researching the silver shards at the archive. We found an old reference to a shard in Neverwinter, discovered shortly after the war with the King of Shadows. This shard was held by a fraternity of Lords... Wealthy men who dabbled in matters of the arcane. According to the tome, only four still lived. Lords Dalren, Brennick, Hawkes and Tavorick."

"Aren't they the men who've been turning up dead?"

"Yes, all but Tavorick. We reasoned that the lords have been passing the shard from one to the next, just ahead of the Demons. If our guess is correct, then Lord Tavorick has the shard, and he is in considerable danger. Aldanon tried to send word to him, but the man is stubborn. He urged me to go away, and said that I shouldn't return until I was... "younger and female" were his words, I believe."

"We should tell Lord Nasher now... before the demons return," said Shandra.

"We'll send the guards in to help you. And they'll try to help you find Aldanon, too. Maybe the thieves didn't get too far with him."

o - o - o - o - o

The steep road to Castle Never was fast becoming familiar, and not everybody was willing to climb it.

"Go ahead, lass. I'm gonna stay down here... we're only gonna have to come down again anyway," said Khelgar.

"Yeah, me too. I don't like being in Castle Never... there's too many guards around," said Neeshka. Elanee, Sand and Bishop made excuses of their own, so Kail set out on the steep ascent with Casavir, Shandra and Grobnar. The guards on the gate saluted her, and allowed her entry into the Castle with no questions asked. Either they'd been told not to question her, or her arrival wasn't entirely unexpected.

Lord Nasher was seated, as always, on his tall throne atop sweeping stairs. Nevalle was stood to his right, and guards flanked them at either side. Even though the hour was getting late, Lord Nasher looked fresh and awake, and she briefly wondered if he ever slept.

"I'm glad that you have come," said Nasher, without preamble. "It seems one event follows another. The trial with Luskan has been settled, but now I hear that Aldanon has been kidnapped?"

"That's correct," she replied, remembering to bow when Casavir gave her a gentle nudge with his elbow. "And we have news of the murdered nobles, too."

"Explain."

"Well, from what we learnt at Aldanon's house, Lord Tavorick may be the next noble to die if we don't find a way to stop it." She was still unwilling to share information about the shards' existence with anybody, unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Cyren? I will not allow him to suffer the same fate as the others. I want you to report to Lord Tavorick's estate at once. I am sending Captain Ballard and a detachment of guards to meet you there."

"Black Ballard?" mused Casavir quietly, though not quietly enough. Lord Nasher narrowed his eyes at Casavir before replying.

"The same. I think he will prove an asset. Now, go there and do everything in your power to protect Lord Tavorick."

Kail bowed again, and led the way back out of Castle Never. She had thought that once Luskan was dealt with, her troubles would be over. Obviously, she had been wrong.


	52. Lord Tavorick

_52. Lord Tavorick_

Lord Tavorick's Estate was not far from Castle Never. Within a few minutes of being given instructions to protect Cyren Tavorick, Kail and her companions were stood outside the Lord's front door, being scrutinised by two Watchmen.

"Halt, there!" said one of them. "Who're you, an' what business have y'here?"

"Quit with your 'Halt there's' you great bumbling nit," said the other. "Tis Kail Farlong, or I'm half a troll. You'll have to pardon my comrade, your ladyship. We started as watch-hounds, you see, and there's nothing a watch-hound likes better than the sound of his own voice, 'specially when it's tellin' folk to 'Halt' and 'State your business!'."

"That's alright. Where is Captain Ballard?" she asked.

"Old Black Ballard's a waitin' for you, inside, Squire. Right through the door and straight on to the main hall." She nodded, and led her friends into the mansion.

"I say, this place is rather grand, isn't it?" said Grobnar, looking around at the stone walls. Long, luxurious carpets ran down the middle of the corridors, cushioning their steps, while torches lined the walls, creating a warm light.

"I wouldn't say no to living here, that's for sure," said Neeshka. She was examining some of the artwork adorning the walls. No doubt estimating its worth.

"This is the main hall," said Casavir, opening a door.

"How do you know that?" asked Kail.

"I have been here, once before, when my parents visited Lord Tavorick on business. I was much younger, of course, but little seems to have changed since then."

She entered the hall as Casavir held the door open, and noticed several people stood in the middle of the room. They were in the middle of a conversation, and she hurried forward to catch what the current speaker was saying.

"I'm sorry, m'lord, but the girl must leave," said a man in a fine gold and black suit of armour.

"Oh come now, look at her. Look! Pretty girl like that would keep any man alive and well, even a spotty old wart like me," said an older man who was obviously Tavorick. The girl he spoke of stood behind him, wearing a long, high-necked dress that was richly embroidered. "That is what Nasher wants, isn't it? To keep me from dropping dead? Eh?"

"Lord Nasher is concerned about m'lord's well being, in light of the recent deaths of m'lord's associates."

"Bah! If Nasher cared about m'lord's well being, he'd buy me a potion of youth. Failing that, he'd send me a harem. Eighty-four girls, one for each of my years. Yes? Maybe?" The other man merely gave him a blank stare, so he turned to the girl instead. "Soldiers... Melia, my dear, I insist that you come back and play for me again. The night after next, perhaps?"

"M'lord is very sweet. I'd be honoured," said the girl, in a fawning voice that made Kail immediately dislike her.

Melia sauntered out of the room, not even acknowledging Kail and the other newcomers.

"Squire Kail Farlong?" asked the man in the armour, approaching her with a salute. "Captain Andrey Ballard, at your command. If you don't mind me saying, Squire, it's an honour to serve with you. My men and I were there for your trial by combat. Warmed a lot of veterans' hearts to see you rout that Luskan dog."

"Thanks," she said, not wanting to admit to him that Lorne was not a Luskan, but a Harborman, like her. She didn't want people to associate West Harbor with murderers like Lorne. "Have you inspected the house?"

"Yes, Squire. I've already made an initial sweep of the house, secured the outer doors, and billeted my men on the second floor. We're five in number, and all proven men. The quiet one with the bow is Comely Finn. Doesn't say much, but he's killed more Luskans than any of us with those arrows of his. My sergeant is Deorwin, called Graylocks. Like a father to the boys, and deadly with an axe. Guff and Wetherly you've already met. I'll be bringing them inside and locking down the front door soon. By your leave, I'll like to barricade all the exits, as well."

"Do it," she nodded.

"I'll send Finn and Deorwin to gather some tables and such. The old man won't miss them. This place has rooms that haven't been touched in decades, perhaps more. After you've sent the old man upstairs, we'll get underway."

"I'd like to inspect the house myself," she said.

"Certainly, Squire. Plenty of time for that now, or after you've talked to Tavorick. I won't lock down the house until you give the word." She nodded as he spoke. It felt... strange... to have people who were older than her, deferring to her. And people who were much better at their jobs than she was, too.

She decided that she would deal with Tavorick first, and studied the old man as she approached him. His grey hair was thinning on top, and receding around his temples. His purple coat, once fine, was now a little threadbare, as if it was a favourite item that he wore every day and never bothered to replace. And his eyes lit up when he saw her approach.

"What's this, more of you? Nasher thinks an army's going to stop me from dropping dead?"

"I'm Kail Farlong. Lord Nasher sent me to keep you safe."

"Well, good for Nasher. He ought to send more women to guard me. Hells, sack all the men and hire on an army of pretty ladies City Watch would be a good deal more popular, I guarantee."

"Who was that woman I saw earlier?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"What, Melia? She's one of Ophala's girls from the Mask. Comes and visits from time to time, reminds me what it's like to have a lady in the house. Lovely girl, Melia. Plays the hard like a songbird. I can't actually hear it, you understand, but she's wonderful to watch. Beautiful hands. My fourth wife had beautiful hands, come to think of it. Know where it got her? Scorched to a crisp, that's where."

"Scorched to a crisp?"

"That's right. Thought she'd try those lovely hands at wizardry. Begs me to buy her a spellbook. Then tries to cast Explosive Runes on her own diary. Pretty girl, but not so bright. I should have kept a better eye on her. Not that I didn't keep an eye on her, but it was the wrong sort of eye, if you catch my meaning." Casavir sighed in the background.

"It's almost a shame she didn't cast Explosive Runes on you," said Qara, though the old man didn't seem to hear her.

"I'm sorry about your friends," said Kail.

"What, you mean Dalren and Brennick? Probably happier now, those two. Acted like they were dead anyway. Hawkes was different, though. Used to walk up to the Academy and back every morning. 'Cyran,' he'd say, 'my heart's gotten just as forgetful as my head. If I don't remind the lazy old thing to keep pumping, it'll up and quit on me'. Good old Hawkes. We used to sit on those benches out front and ogle all the pretty girls. Never know when you'll meet one who fancies older men... that's what Hawkes always said."

"Well, you do look young for your age," she replied, humouring him.

"See this? Full head of hair, and me eighty-four years old. go on, it's real... yank on it, if you like!"

"Maybe later. Where's the shard?"

"Got it right here in my pocket. And that's where it's staying, too. Told Nasher I wouldn't give it to him, and he said I wouldn't have to. Nice enough fellow, Nasher. Seems to like sitting on that throne of his. Ancestor of mine made that throne, and you know where it got him? Exiled to Icwind Dale. Silly fool thought he'd sign his initials on the bottom. I ever tell you what I think of artists?"

"You should head upstairs, m'lord," she said before he could start rambling again.

"Oh, very well. Shoo the all dotard away, he smells like boiled cabbage, anyway. No, don't bother to disagree. I know what I smell like. I'll be upstairs in my chambers. Think I'll go to bed and dream a bit. Always pretty girls in my dreams, and I don't even have to pay them to keep me company."

With that, he wandered off, and Kail sighed with relief.

"I wish I had dreams like his," said Bishop. "It would certainly save me a lot of coin."

"It doesn't surprise me in the slightest that the only women you can get are women of negotiable affection, Bishop," said Elanee.

"All womens' affection is negotiable. You just have to know the currency. Care to tell me _yours_?"

"Protect Tavorick now. Negotiate later," said Kail. Neeshka smirked at Elanee as the elf went red, though most likely with anger than embarrassment. "Look, why don't you all find the kitchen, make up some food? I get the feeling this is going to be a long night, and there's no point in spending it hungry. I'm going to inspect the rest of the ground floor, so you've got time yet."

"The kitchen sounds like a fine idea," said Khelgar with a gleam in his eye. "And maybe the old man has some caskets of ale lying around."

"Just don't expect me to serve it to you," sniffed Qara.

"I say, food sounds like a splendid idea," said Grobnar.

"I will show you where the kitchen is," said Casavir, leading the way across the hall. Grobnar, Khelgar, Elanee and Neeshka followed him.

"Whatever he makes is bound to taste like crushed beetles," said Bishop.

"Why do you have to be so nasty to people all the time?" said Shandra.

"I dunno. Maybe some people just bring out the worst in me, farm-girl. But if you'd like me to show you my good side, we could go somewhere more... private."

"In your dreams," said Shandra, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at him.

Kail rolled her eyes. "Come on, children. Let's check out the rest of this floor."

"Oh, oh, we've found something!" came Grobnar's excited voice from the kitchen. Kail hurried over to the door, followed by everybody else. "Look here," said Grobnar, indicating several large barrels stood in the corner of the room. There was a sticker on the top of each lid, and she read it aloud.

"Quantity - 40 blast globes, granted by the Many-Starred Cloak, Neverwinter City, to Lord Cyren Tavorick, 1360 DR."

"Quite old, and probably very unstable," said Grobnar. "Let's open one up and take a peek!"

"Ah... how about we _don't_ open the barrel of old and volatile globes of fiery death, Grobnar. I'll let Ballard know about them, maybe we can use them to defend this place."

"What a marvellous idea! I wish I'd thought of it."

"Nevermind. You just be sure to cook us something really delicious, while we finish inspecting the place."

"Worry not, Grobnar Gnomehands shall provide a feast to remember!" he called as she left the room.

Stood in the main hall, Kail looked around her. The main entrance was to her right, and there was an exit to her left which had already been barricaded. Once they had finished checking out the smaller rooms, like the kitchen, she would block those off too. Those were the only doors in or out of the hall, except for the stairs to the next floor. Lord Tavorick was already up there.

"Sand. Do you think that once we've barricaded these doors to the kitchen, you could find some way to magically trap them with a spell?"

"Hmm. Well I suppose I could cast delayed-blast fireball. It would only go off when somebody steps into proximity of it. But I'm not sure how much good it would do."

"Why not?"

"If it really _is_ demons that have been attacking and killing all the men who've been carrying the shard... well, most demons have at least partial resistance to fire, if not total."

"Damn. Well... what about if we put the barrels of blast globes in the doorways, and then you cast delayed-blast fireball? That way, when it goes off, it will ignite the barrels and cause part of the doorway to collapse. I'm sure demons are just as succeptible to falling masonry as are non-planar beings."

"And risk blocking off our exits?" said Bishop drily.

"And possibly bring the ceiling down on our heads?" asked Qara. "I mean, you saw what a single crate of blast-globes did when we used them to clear the pass at Old Owl Well. Now you're talking about whole _barrels_ of them."

"What do you think, Khelgar?" she asked. The dwarf went around the room, tapping the walls with a hammer he had pulled from his pocket. He tapped softly, with one ear pressed against the wall. Then he moved to the doorways and did the same.

"Sounds good, lass. There's supporting beams throughout the walls, and the door lintels aren't taking too much pressure at the moment. I think we could stand to lose two or three doorways before we risk the structural integrity of the ceiling."

"Khelgar, I'm impressed," said Qara.

"Well, thanks. But if there's one thing us dwarfs know, it's stone-work."

"No, I mean I'm impressed that you know the word 'integrity'. It's a long word, after all, and I didn't think you possessed any of it."

"Why you cheap little daddy's girl, you listen to me-"

"Later, Khelgar," said Kail, resting a hand on his shoulder. She couldn't afford for everything to fall apart now. She needed everybody to stick together, to work as a team.

"Bah!" he said, grumbling to himself as he walked away. Qara grinned smugly.

"Now. Let's go and tell Captain Ballard how I want the defences to be arranged. Then we can lock down this place, go upstairs, and try to get a little sleep."

o - o - o - o - o

"Goodnight, Lord Tavorick. Try to get some sleep, we'll make sure you're safe," said Kail, closing his door as she left his bedroom. The old man wasn't even changed into his night clothes, and she doubted he'd do any sleeping tonight. Not that she could blame him, really. If her life was in the hands of other people, she wouldn't sleep either.

"Well, lass, how d'ye wanna do this? There's plenty of bedrooms, so we can take it in shifts if ye like," suggested Khelgar.

"Alright. I'll take first shift, with Neeshka. Then I want... Sand and Bishop, you and Elanee, Casavir and Grobnar, Shandra and Qara." It was the best way of pairing them up, and would cause the least amount of problems, argument-wise. She couldn't put Casavir with Neeshka or Bishop. She couldn't put Bishop with Casavir, Grobnar, Elanee, Shandra.... just about anybody, really. She couldn't put Qara with Khelgar, Grobnar or Sand. But putting Elanee with Casavir or Shandra with Grobnar would probably lead to them talking throughout their shift, and not being alert.

It seemed like half of leading people was about politics. Was this what it was like for Nasher, but on a much larger scale? It was a sobering thought, and her respect for him rose immediately.

"You're not giving me the last shift because you think I need more rest than anybody else, are you?" Shandra asked her quietly as everybody else filed off to find a room. "I mean, I know I've not been doing this whole 'adventurer' thing as long as everybody else, but I'm not soft. I worked on a farm all my life, I'm no stranger to hard work and sleepless nights."

"It was just how I paired people up, Shandra. There are times when you'll be asked to keep watch first, and times when you're last. It's the way things go. Don't worry about it, just get some sleep."

Shandra nodded, and followed the others down the corridor.

"She's nice, she just tries too hard sometimes," said Neeshka, sitting down on the floor a few feet away from Tavorick's door.

"She'll learn." _She has to_, she thought, sitting down opposite her friend.

"So. What did you want to talk to me about?"

"You know me too well," she said, and Neeshka smiled. "I want to tell you something, but it's very important that nobody else finds out. So you can't mention it to anyone, not even to Khelgar."

"Sure. I'm not only the best thief in Neverwinter, but also the best secret-keeper. You have my word, that whatever you say is between you and me."

"Thanks. Well, you know how I've been sorta... keeping to myself, lately? Since I killed Lorne, I mean."

"You mean, since Lucas left?"

She winced. Neeshka was too astute for her own good, sometimes.

"Yeah, that too. Well, after Lucas left, Duncan came to talk to me, and he told me some things about my mother. Things that I'd never known before. Things that aren't exactly nice."

"Such as?"

"Such as... she was one of the Children of Bhaal, and that when she gave birth to me, the taint of her evil divine blood may have passed on to me."

"Wow," said Neeshka, letting out an impressed whistle. "That's a pretty heavy thing to digest."

"Yes. And I'm worried that this evil taint may try to... control me. Before I left West Harbor, on the night the bladelings and duergar attacked us, I'd never killed another sentient being before. But once I'd started, I found it really, _really_ easy to keep going. And not just bladelings or duergar, either. Those guards who were hassling you when we met, and attacked us for sticking up for you... I helped to kill them, and I never gave it a second thought. I never wondered if they had families who would miss them, if they had wives or children waiting for them back home... I just killed them because they were attacking me. I could have tried to disarm them, or knock them unconscious, but at the time, I didn't even consider it. What if killing, and... and murder, is literally in my blood?"

"Maybe it's not. Maybe the taint never passed onto you."

"I think it did. I don't know how I know, but I can... almost feel it, sometimes, lurking beneath me."

"But maybe that's not the taint of Bhaal's blood. Maybe that's just this dragon thing that you told us about, and how you sometimes go berserk."

"It's hard to explain. The dragon-fire, the berserking... they're tools. And I use them, sometimes purposely, sometimes by accident. Like when I was fighting Lorne, and I used dragon-fire. And when I go berserk, it's like my mind switches off, and I become something primitive, without any concept of good or evil, only fighting to surive. But there are times when it's felt like something else has been controlling these tools. Like that time when I threatened Qara in the Flagon, something was telling me to embrace my gifts, and to use them to kill. And when I went berserk and beat Moire to death... that wasn't just me berserking, it was me wanting to kill her, to completely obliterate her. That was like... pure evil, using my gifts to cause maximum pain, to kill because it was convenient for me, or because somebody upset me. It's as if there's somebody else inside me, trying to take over." _And sometimes, she does._

"And you think that the others may think less of you if they find out? That's why you made me promise not to tell anyone?"

"Partially. It's also because the Children of Bhaal have been hunted and persecuted wherever they go... by knights, by harpers, by bountyhunters, by armies, by each other... my mother took refuge in West Harbor because she thought that it was the perfect place to lie low, that nobody would ever find her there. I don't think she was being paranoid, I think she was being cautious. I don't want to attract too much of the wrong attention. I've already got the King of Shadows and Black Garius and the githyanki after my blood. I don't want to spend the rest if my life running, because that's no life at all."

"Don't worry, I won't breathe a word about it to anyone. I'm glad you told me, though. And you know I'll always be here for you if you need to talk."

"Squire!" came a shout from the stairs. Deorwin Graylocks bounded up them two at a time, with Comely Finn right behind him. "Cap'n sent us to fetch you, Squire. There's some foul mist gathering downstairs, and the lights have gone funny."

"Alright, I'll go take a look. Will you wake everyone else? They're all asleep in the bedrooms. Send them down, but you two stay here to guard Tavorick."

"Aye Squire, as you say," said Graylocks, saluting as she left.

"And you said tonight was going to be a long night," said Neeshka, nocking an arrow to her bow as she followed Kail down the stairs.

o - o - o - o - o

"It's been like this half a candle, no more," said Ballard. Looking around, she noticed that the flames in the torches on the walls had turned blue. And, curling around their legs, was an unnatural black fog that seemed to move with purpose, as if seeking something. "No sign of trouble yet, beyond the mist and the stink and the foul light."

"I say, this is rather atmospheric, isn't it?" said Grobnar, leading everybody else down the stairs. He took out a wad of paper and a pencil and began scribbling away, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he concentrated.

"What are you doing? Though I dread to ask," said Sand.

"Just jotting down some notes, trying to capture the scene for when I write about it in detail later."

"Squire!" shouted Guff from the front door. "A horde of little demons! They burst through the front hall and forced us back!"

"Aye, and something else, too, back behind the rest," said Wetherly. "Whatever it is, it's big!"

"How many? Could you tell?"

"No time, Squire! They're coming through!" said Guff. From the corridor there came the sound of an almighty splintering. The door giving way, she assumed.

As the two Watchmen backed into the room with their blades raised, they were followed by a host of small, flying demons. She didn't know whether they were imps, or quasits, or mephits, or whatever, but she didn't care. Around her, arrows and bolt and spells were loosed into the mass of demons. She took the safety latch off the RAMP and fired into the throng, not even bothering to aim; at this range, with this many enemies, it was bound to hit a few somethings.

The disadvantage of fighting flying opponents was that they tended to keep out of close range, rendering several members of the team ineffective. There wasn't much that Khelgar, Casavir, Shandra and Ballard could do as everybody else picked the demons off one by one. Guff and Wetherly had switched to their bows, but they weren't as good a shot as Bishop or Neeshka.

And from above, spells rained down on the group as the demons used their own magics. Most of them fell harmlessly upon the barriers erected by Qara and Sand, but a few made it through to their targets. Casavir, unable to fight, fell to tending wounds as and when they arose.

At last the deluge of demons into the room slowed and then stopped, and it wasn't long until all of the flying menaces were twitching lifelessly on the floor. Elanee went around the room checking everybody's injuries and fixing anything worse than scratches.

"They'll be coming again, Squire," said Ballard. "It's likely to get worse from here. What are your orders?"

She quickly assessed her companions; although they had already dealt with thieves tonight, everybody still seemed fresh. Neeshka, Bishop and Grobnar still had a decent supply of arrows and bolts, and she knew that Qara, Sand and Elanee had a fair number of spells left between them. Casavir, Khelgar, Shandra and herself were unharmed, and capable of handling any close fighting. Both of Ballard's men were injured, though he himself was not.

"Stay back by the steps and use your bows against them," she said. At least, that way, in the unlikely event that she and her companions were all killed, the demons would still have to get past Ballard and his men. He nodded, and took Guff and Wetherly to guard the stairs.

"Fall back to the stairs," she told her friends. "We'll let them come to us. With any luck, we'll be able to get rid of a few of them by arrow and magic before we have to fight."

"Bah! That's no way t'fight, lass! We need to be in the thick of it, carving a name for ourselves in the blood of our foe!" said Khelgar, slapping his fist to his chest. There was a chattering sound from out in the hallway, followed by the sound of many bodies approaching.

"Trust me, Khelgar. Pretty soon, you're going to be right in the thick of things. Now, back to the stairs! That's where we'll make our stand."

Everybody began to form a ring around the base of the stairs. Ballard and his men stood closest to the stairs, Guff and Wetherly with their bows to hand. Surrounding them were Sand, Elanee and Qara. In front of them were Bishop, Neeshka and Grobnar, with their bows and crossbows at the ready. And in front were Casavir, Khelgar and Shandra, hefting their own weapons as the sound of approaching bodies grew louder. Kail sidled upto Sand and began to reload the RAMP.

"How are you holding up?"

"Just fine," he replied.

"Be ready to target the barrels of blast-globes as soon as you see a decent number of demons beneath the doorways."

"Leave it to me. Those demons won't know what hit them. Literally."

"Here they come, lass," said Khelgar from the front of the group. Everybody with a missile weapon raised it, aiming towards the main door. Then the first wave of demons rushed into the room. A succubus went down with an arrow and a bolt in her chest, and the smaller bolts from Kail's weapon finished it off. The other arrows found their marks in some of the imps -- or quasits or mephits -- that followed. But the archers could not keep up with the demons, and soon the room was filled with them.

"Now, Sand!" shouted Kail above the din. The wizard sent a fireball hurtling towards the first barrel, and it exploded violently. The doorway caved in, the demons beneath it crushed under a ton of rubble.

"Tavorick isn't going to be happy about that," said Captain Ballard as he took a swipe with his sword at an imp above his head.

"He can get it fixed. It's not like he's short on money," she said, aiming at the imp with her weapon and pulling the trigger. Ten bolts peppered its small body, and she realised that those were her last ten.

The battle raged on for what seemed like hours; Shandra was injured by a steel-clawed Erinyes, and fell back so that Elanee could tend her wounds. Grobnar ran out of bolts for his crossbow, and began reading spells from his collection of scrolls. Bishop started aiming for vitals, a sure sign that he was beginning to run out of arrows. Ballard hacked at anything that came to close to the stairs and his men, while Sand and Qara sent wave after wave of magic missiles speeding towards their attackers.

Suddenly, Kail got a creeping feeling at the back of her neck, as if something was watching her. She spun around, and found herself staring into the cold, deep eyes of a succubus. She raised her daggers, but found herself unable to strike. The succubus' eyes were hypnotising. Her face was the most beautiful face that she had ever seen, and she wanted nothing more than to be closer to it, to serve that face, to make it smile at her. She stepped forward, and the succubus reached out to her.

A strong arm wrapped around her waist, dragging her back. Even as she squirmed to free herself, two arrows shot past her and pierced the chest and neck of the demon. As the creature died, so did its spell over her, and her wits came back to her. When she stopped struggling, the arm holding her back released her.

"Don't worry Squire, we've got your back," said Ballard, giving her a worried smile.

"Thanks. I hate to think what that thing would have done if it got its claws on me," she replied shakily.

"Best to never find out, I think."

A high-pitched scream cut through the sounds of battle, making the hairs on her neck stand on end.

"That came from upstairs," said Ballard, looking worried. "It must be Tavorick. Go and see what's happening up there, my men and I will take care of the demons down here."

"Alright, but I'm not leaving you completely alone. Khelgar, Neeshka, Sand, come with me."

Her friends broke off their attacks and followed her to the stairs. She bounded up them two at a time -- a difficult feat for a somewhat short person -- and ran panting towards Tavorick's room. Deorwin and Finn were nowhere in sight, but the Lord's door was ajar and she heard sounds from within. Without a second thought, she kicked the door and rushed into the room, taking in the scene. Several imps were harassing Lord Tavorick, who was cowering in a corner, while Finn and Deorwin tried to stab at them with their swords.

Several arrows flew past Kail as Neeshka fired rapidly with her bow. Magic missiles zipped around her, hitting the demons with unnatural precision. As each imp was plucked from the air and fell to the ground, Deorwin, Finn and Khelgar finished them off with a blow from their weapons. When the last imp had been despatched, Tavorick kicked its tiny body; it landed with a splat against the wall, and dropped to the floor.

"Horrible beasts appeared out of nowhere! Just came shrieking out of the dark," he said. "Listen to me, Farlong. Our only chance is the crypt. I had the place warded... they'll only be able to come through the door, and it should take them some time to penetrate the wards."

"You might have mentioned that earlier..." she sighed. A more defensible position would have made her job _much_ easier.

"I am very fond of my ancestors, Squire, but they make for dull company. And these demons are rather more determined than I thought they'd be."

"Alright. Just follow me, and stay close."

She led everybody back down the stairs. In the main hall, the fighting was over; at least this round of it, anyway. Grobnar and Bishop were searching the bodies for arrows and bolts to recover, and Shandra was helping them. Casavir was tending to a bleeding slash on Qara's arm, whilst Elanee was healing Guff and Wetherly.

"I caught a glimpse of that big demon," said Ballard. "He's hanging back, giving orders. He's the source of the stench, too. You can trust in in that."

"We're making a break for the crypt," she announced. Grobnar, Bishop and Shandra ceased looking for ammunition and rejoined the group.

"Are you sure?" asked Ballard. "There's no way out of that crypt, except by the way you go in. We'll be trapped."

"Maybe so. But we'll have the demons in a bottle-neck. We can't keep letting them come at us from all directions."

Ballard nodded reluctantly, and led the way towards the back of the main hall. A blockade stood in front of the door, and everybody started dismantling it while Tavorick took out his keys and searched for the key for his ancestors' tomb. Kail helped Grobnar with a heavy piece of wood that he was struggling with, and in a couple of minutes the barricade had been reduced to nothing.

"I hear something. I think they're preparing for another attack. Better hurry with that key, wildcat," said Bishop, at the rear of the group.

"This is the one," said Tavorick, handing her a large iron key. She pushed it into the lock and turned it, pushing the ancient wooden door open with all her weight. "Quick, everyone, down the corridor!" When everyone was through, she pushed on the door from the other side, trying to close it. But the corridor was dusty, and the door hinges rusted. All the managed to do was slide back down the floor while the door remained ajar.

Then, without warning, she stopped sliding as the door moved forward and began to close. As it slammed shut she locked it again, then turned to see Casavir stood behind her.

"Thanks," she said. "That thing was a lot heavier than it looked."

He nodded. "We should hurry. We do not want to be caught out of the crypts when the demons break through this door."

Together they ran along the corridor and caught up to the others. Lord Tavorick was seated on one of his ancester's sarcophogi, taking deep breaths. Captain Ballard was talking quietly with his men. Qara was walking around the chamber, lighting torches with magic. Everybody else was setting up defensive positions, aiming their sights on the door in front of them.

"Predictable creatures, demons," said Tavorick when she approached him. "Can't abide wards, not when they're done right. Now they'll have to come at us through that- Oh, Oghma's eyes, what is that stench?" He began coughing as a foul smell wafted through the doorway. Outside the doorway, something large growled, and bent its head to look through the opening.

"I can smell you, little lordling. I can scent your craven soul amidst the dust of your ancestors."

"And we can smell you too," said Kail. Everyone backed away from the door, trying to get away from the stench. "What do you want?"

"I am Qaggoth-yet, leader of hordes, cleaver of babau and bebelith, the hunter who does not tire. From the yawning clamourous layer of Yogguul was I plucked, and now I hunt at the bidding of my Master. And who are you, my mortal friend?"

"I am Kail Farlong, leader of the Companions Ten mercenary group, cleaver of orcs and Luskans, the bard who does not tire. From the murky depths of the Mere was I plucked, and now I kill demons for the fun of it. Plus, I make an excellent pot of soup."

"You have a wonderful anarchic scent about you. Beneath your weariness and your sweat, you smell of lives shattered, and hopes trod underfoot. Perhaps I could smell you better... if only I could come... a bit closer..." There was a heavy thudding sound from the corridor, and the ground underfoot tremored. The demon, she realised, was trying to smash the wall, to make an opening big enough for it to enter.

"The door! Get away from the door!" cried Tavorick.

"We need to stop it before it gets inside!" said Kail. "Everybody, throw whatever you've got left at it!"

She rushed forward with her daggers, ducking as she passed through the door to avoid crumbling masonry. She was followed by Khelgar, Casavir and Shandra, while Grobnar, Bishop and Neeshka shot their remaining arrows and bolts. But when the missiles struck the creature's body, they merely bounced off its thick, oily skin.

She slashed at its leg with a dagger, but the blade did little more than slice open a tiny part of the skin. The demon barely seemed to notice. The air around them was thick with magic, but not all of the spells seemed to touch the creature; half of them fizzled out before reaching it, and she she cursed silently to herself.

On the other side of the creature, Shandra was also hacking and it with her blade. Either she had injured it, or was annoying it, because it flicked its huge tail and her, which sent her flying into the far wall. She crumpled to a heap, and was still. Khelgar appeared underneath the creature, hitting its belly with a dwarven hammer he had been given by Khulmar, at the Ironfist stronghold near Old Owl Well. The demon lifted one of its back legs and kicked him out of the way, then swung at him with its front claws.

Kail realised that she had to distract the demon, or it would make short work of Khelgar. Running around to the side of the creature, she stabbed one of her daggers vertically down with all of her strength, plunging the blade into its foot. It roared in pain, picked up Khelgar, and threw him back into the crypt. He landed heavily on Sand and Qara, and all three were sent sprawling into a heap.

The demon swung its tail again, but she had anticipated it, and jumped over it like a skipping rope. But as she was still airborne, the demon used its massive front claws to knock her out of the air, and she landed heavily, winded on the ground. Through swimming vision she saw the creature rear up, preparing to crush her beneath its bulk.

Then, something leapt at it from halfway up the doorway, landing on its back. The demon roared, trying to reach around to its back with its arms. The 'something', she realised as her breath came back to her, was Casavir. He had climbed the damaged masonry and was clinging to the creature's back. He had saved her life, and she took the opportunity to drag herself out of crushing range of the demon.

Seeing her clear, Casavir raised his war-hammer and, with all his strength and a prayer to Tyr to guide his blow, brought it down upon the creature's head. Its skull made a sickening _crack_ sound, and it crumpled to the ground. Casavir stepped down from its back and helped her stand. Her legs felt like jelly, and he helped her back into the crypt as Elanee rushed out to tend to Shandra.

"That thing... it has a Master. You heard it, didn't you? I told Nasher this hoodwinking business wouldn't work, but does he listen to the eighty-four-year-old? Of course not," said Tavorick.

"What are you talking about?" asked Kail.

"I haven't got the shard. Haven't had it since yesterday. Passed it to Melia, in fact, just before you got here. Whole business was a diversion, to get whoever's seeking the shard to reveal himself. Instead he sent that brute with the tongue-twisting name.

"You passed the shard to Melia? To some girl from the Mask?"

"I do still have a few wits left, you know... Melia's one of the Nine. She's holed up at the Moonstone Mask with a half-dozen guards posing as patrons. Only, the demon's Master has seen through our ruse. He sent the demons here to occupy you, and to kill me in the bargain. The man himself's on the way to the Mask to claim the shard... I'd bet my heirs on it, if I had any."

"We'd better get to the Mask and warn Melia."

"Don't let the old dotard stand in your way. Probably ought to stay down here with people more my age."

"My men and I will take care of Lord Tavorick, Squire," said Ballard. "I think you and your friends will be needed more at the Mask."

"Alright. But at the first sign of more demons showing up, get him out of there. It will be less convenient for them to attack you in public."

Ballard saluted her -- a gesture that made her feel extremely uncomfortable -- and gathered up Tavorick and his men, leading the way out of the crypt. Kail walked unsteadily to Shandra and Elanee, with Grobnar right behind her.

"How is she doing?" she asked the elf.

"She had a fractured skull, which I have healed. She should wake up in a few minutes, though she will probably have a very bad headache for a few hours."

"Alright. Will you stay here with her until she wakes? The rest of us need to get to the Mask, and we don't have a moment to spare. You stay too, Khelgar. Don't think I can't see you limping. Elanee can heal you, and then you can all catch up to us."

Khelgar sulked, but did as he was asked, and Kail led her companions out of the mansion.

o - o - o - o - o

"You could have told me that Melia was one of the Nine," said Kail to Casavir as they made their way to the Merchant District.

"It has been a long time since I have seen Melia, and never dressed like that before. And her hair was different," he replied a little guiltily.

"Alright. Let's just hope we're in time to warn her about the shard."

The Moonstoon Mask was in chaos when they arrived. The body of one woman lay face-down on the floor beside the door, and the other entertainers were seeking refuge under tables, their patrons huddled beside them.

"Thank the Gods you're here!" said Ophala, peering from behind the bar. "A man with glowing tattoos on his face came in here with a pack of demons -- and he's still upstairs now. He murdered Evelyn at the door, and if he's not stopped... he'll... please, you must do something!"

"We'll deal with him. Stay here, and don't let anybody upstairs."

"Be careful!" called Ophala as Kail walked towards the stairs.

Cautiously, and as quietly as possible, she climbed the steps. Behind her, the others crowded near, ready to attack, or defend, as required. Kail pressed her ear to the door, but heard no sound from the other side, so she opened it a couple of inches, and peered around the corner. There was a still body of a woman in a dress a few feet away from the door, but nothing else in sight. She pushed the door open further, and stepped onto the second floor.

"Geez... this was a massacre," said Neeshka with a shudder. Around the room were bodies of women, all blood-soaked and silent.

The carnage continued into the bedrooms; each one held a dead woman, each dressed similarly to Melia, but none of them actually her. The woman inside one room was wearing a dress of pure white, decorated with pearls. And her blood was splattered across the front of her dress in a circular pattern. It looked almost... artistic. Kail crouched by the body to examine it closer. She'd never really seen a dead body up close before, at least one had she she hadn't killed herself. And those were usually orcs or bugbears.

She had to admit, she had always been a little squeamish around dead things. She seemed to have no problem doing the killing, but actually staying around the bodies, touching them, searching them... she didn't have Neeshka's love of looting to fall back on, or Sand's cold, elven reserve gained from centuries of experience. Squatting down beside the body of the woman, she examined it more closely.

The skin was pale, but not yet white. The eyes were closed, almost peaceful, but the mouth was open, portraying fear. It was a strange contradiction, as if the body didn't know whether to be at peace or not. She was reaching up to close the woman's mouth when Bishop stuck his head around the doorway.

"There's another door out here that's locked from the inside. The tin-man's going to kick it down. Figured you'd want to see what's inside."

"I'll be right there."

"I hope you're not thinking of blaming yourself for these deaths," he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Of course not. I didn't kill these people."

"Well. Good. Hurry up, I don't think the tin-man intends on waiting for you."

She nodded, and left the body as it was, twisted and frightened. When she found her friends, Casavir was in the process of kicking down the door. Three hard kicks did it, and the door caved in. Kail stepped through, and everybody followed.

A strange man was squatting over a blue-clad corpse. The uniform was that of the Nine, and the corpse was obviously that of a woman. Kail could have laughed. In the midst of all the chaos, Melia had still found time to change. She had died as what she was; a soldier.

"Ah, reinforcements," said the strange man. "I am afraid you're too late to save this one. And if it is the shard you're after, I am afraid I have that as well. It seems to me all you have left is your life... but that is easily corrected."

The man raised his arms, and as he began to fade, two huge dogs were conjured in front of the group. Kail ducked to avoid a plume of fire spat from one of the dog's mouths, and everybody followed suit.

"What in the hells are these?" she asked.

"Nessian War Hounds," said Sand. "A particularly nasty breed of hell-hound."

"Well I'm fed up of demons."

She ran toward one of the dogs, then rolled as she came near. Once underneath it, she aimed upward with her dagger, plunging it into the dog's throat. It collapsed onto her, covering her in warm blood. When the others hauled the corpse off her, she saw that the other dog had been killed too.

"I need a bath," she said. "And we need to to tell Lord Nasher that one of the Nine is dead. So... who wants to be the one to do that?"


	53. If In Doubt, Ask

_53. If In Doubt, Ask._

Seated upon his throne in the heart of Castle Never, Lord Nasher looked as tired as Kail felt. He seemed to have aged ten years in just ten hours, and by his right shoulder, Nevalle didn't look much better. She stepped forward slowly, unsure how to begin. Lord Nasher saved her the trouble.

"I can tell by your furtive step that you do not bring me good news. I heard there was a battle at the Moonstone Mask. Is Melia..."

"She has been killed by a sorcerer, one who can summon demons. So has half the staff at the Mask."

"That is... terrible news. Without her, the Nine are weakened tremendously, and she will be missed. The killer - were you at least able to catch him?"

"No, he got away."

"Then it seems there is little more to be done. I can dispatch the Many-Starred Cloaks to the Moonstone Mask and Cyran's home to look for clues... But as for what they can turn up, I do not know. It looks like justice has been denied this day. Nonetheless, you are to be congratulated for saving Lord Cyran's life."

"Why didn't you tell me about Melia?" she asked.

"Keeping her identity secret was not meant to harm you or her - but there were too many uncertainties in these deaths as it stood to risk it. I am sorry if you find that difficult to understand, but it was my decision to make, not yours."

She shrugged. "I'm not the one who has to live with Melia's death on my hands," she said, and regretted it when a flicker of anger passed over the Lord's face. "What would you have me do next?"

"If there was a trail, I would ask you to track down this murderer... but without one... I fear we will have to bide our time. And another matter has recently been brought to our attention. It seems that we have an even larger problem within Neverwinter than we first thought-"

"I hope we are not intruding," said a new voice. Kail turned in time to see a heavily-framed woman enter the room, followed by a tall, bean-pole of a man. The woman was dressed in drab grey and brown robes, and had dull, greasy hair. And her accent was Luskan. Kail felt her nose begin to wrinkle in disgust, and she had to stop her hands from flying to her daggers. "Seems Neverwinter is quite active of late."

"I said I would send for you later, after I am done here," said Nasher, irritation obvious in his voice.

"My apologies, my Lord Nasher. But the conversation before was a bit brief, and I did not think it would be best for both our cities to wait any longer... forgive my impatience. Ahh, is this the Harborman... the _Squire_ I have heard so much about?" The woman subjected Kail to a scrutinizing glance. She wished she was a little taller. Nobody seemed to think short people imposing. If only she could learn to loom a little, like Casavir or Bishop.

"Careful. Hosttower mage... and high-ranking as well," whispered Sand in her ear.

"Whoever she is, she's powerful... and she's masking it well, too," added Qara. Kail nodded, acknowledging them both.

"I am familiar with your exploits... and as exceptional as they are, I am certain we could spend most of the day discussing them," said the woman.

She ignored the woman's goads, turning instead to Lord Nasher. "Milord, if this is an inappropriate time, I will take my leave."

"No, no, I want you here, this merits your attention. This is Sydney Natale, our new ambassador from Luskan. She arrived earlier, and I had hoped to speak to you privately, before the three of us met. Her associate is Khralver, I believe?" The tall man nodded and stepped forward to bow slightly to her.

"Well met, my lady. It is my pl-"

"Khralver is of no consequence, he is here to assist me - and silently," said Sydney. "The news I bring concerns you, Lord Nasher and I most of all, so it is fitting you have arrived. I had hoped to speak to you before leaving in any event."

"Are you planning to put me on trial again with another false accusation?" she asked, more calmly than she felt. She wanted to gut the Luskan where she stood... but if the woman was in fact an accomplished mage of the Hosttower, as Sand and Qara suggested -- and it was rare enough for them to agree on anything -- then she would probably be incinerated before she could even get her daggers completely out of their holders. Of course, her friends would probably exact revenge, but that would matter little if she was dead.

"No, in fact, far from it. There has been a miscommunication, so I have traveled from Luskan to straighten certain matters out. If they were left to rumor, gossip or surface appearances, they might be... misconstrued. You have recently had trouble with those you believe affiliated with Luskan, when in fact they are not connected to or supported by us at all."

"Is that so? And who are these people?"

"There are four towers in Luskan, each ruled by a skilled mage. And we four work tirelessly to aid Luskan and its people. But there is a self-styled 'Master of the Fifth Tower' who, as his title suggests, has overstepped his bounds. This mage is a man by the name of Garius -- 'Black' Garius, I believe is yet another title he uses -- silly, but he really believes he casts a longer shadow than he does. Nevertheless, he has been quite... industrious as of late... almost as industrious as you, my dear Harborman. But he s not affiliated with our city or its interests -- unlike you and your long-standing ties to service in Neverwinter." Kail chose to ignore the sarcasm in Sydney's voice. Obviously the woman knew that she had only been assigned to the position of Squire out of convenience, and hadn't been in Neverwinter long at all.

"And what has he been up to that should concern me?" she asked.

"Ambassador Natale informed me earlier that she believes Black Garius began the war with their island neighbour, Ruathym," said Lord Nasher.

"Yes. And it has served as a convenient means to distract Luskan from its real priorities. Regardless, Ruathym was an aggressor for quite some time, so action needed to be taken regardless..." Sydney mused.

"I believe the Lord's Alliance would have taken exception to that... as do I."

"I am certain they would have, milord. But since Ruathym attacked us first, it is our responsibility to deal with their aggression and quickly... you can expect little else from island barbarians, really."

"I'm sorry to hear that 'island barbarians' are giving the great city of Luskan so much trouble," said Kail with the sweetest smile she could muster. Sydney scowled at her, but let the barb pass to continue her debriefing.

"You see, Ruathym believe that Luskan has stolen a precious artifact from them, a book called the Tome of Iltkazar."

"The Tome of Iltkazar?" said Sand quietly, but not quietly enough. Sydney turned to address him, and he took a step back behind Casavir, as if afraid of drawing the mage's attention for some reason.

"A powerful artifact... and not only can its sudden disappearance lead two nations to war, but in the wrong hands, it can be used to channel tremendous power."

"Garius' hands are most definitely 'the wrong hands'," said Kail wryly. "So this helps us how?"

"That is a matter we feel best left to Neverwinter... the matter is a domestic one, as it turns out. But that is not all that concerns us - we believe that Black Garius has made an alliance with someone known as "The King of Shadows" - a man or creature of whom we know very little. Garius was no doubt able to steal the Tome of Iltkazar with help from this ally, and use it to bolster his armies with golems awakened from the Tome."

"He sparked a war for a book? Isn't that a Luskan matter?"

"No, unfortunately, his ambitions do not end there. We have received word that he intends to perform a powerful ritual within the lands of Neverwinter, with knowledge he has stolen from the very King of Shadows he serves. I have heard of the loss of your local sage, Aldanon, and I suspect he is a part of this."

"In what way?"

"I suspect he was kidnapped to provide the last of the missing pieces to the ritual -- a ritual that will steal power from the 'King of Shadows' and grant it to Garius. The exact powers granted are not known to me -- or my fellow mages, which is a further cause for concern. But I have told you all I know."

"Where is Garius now?"

"We felt it was not only our duty to clear up any ties you might believe exist between Luskan and this criminal, but also inform you of his whereabouts. He and his forces are in a ruined castle, Crossroads Keep, within Neverwinter lands. Normally, Luskan would not hesitate to take action against such a criminal, but with the confusion that has already occurred, we felt it was best to advise Lord Nasher - and you - of the situation and allow you to do what you feel is best."

"Why Crossroad Keep? And in Neverwinter territory?"

"It is... difficult to explain to someone not skilled in the arcane arts."

"Try anyway."

"Crossroad Keep was the site of a great battle in the past, the one against the King of Shadows, in fact. That much we have been able to uncover. We believe that some of the power from that battle, his 'essence' perhaps allows them a stronger tie to the King of Shadows if the ritual is performed there, but that is our best guess."

"What do you want me to do about it, Lord?" she asked Nasher, who had been silent for some time.

"Garius must be stopped. We have his location, and I want you to travel there as soon as you are able," he replied.

"If we're going after Ember's killers, what about her?" said Shandra, pointing at Sydney Natale. "What about Luskan? Does anyone here really believe Luskan knew nothing about Ember? Nothing?!"

"My dear girl, I would be careful with such words, lest you offend me," Sydney replied. "I have come in good faith, and you are in danger of throwing it back in my face."

"I do not believe the Hosttower mages would be unaware of anything occurring in their domain," said Kail.

"That is correct, and all you have is my word," said Sydney, and turned to address Lord Nasher. "As your squire... I'm sorry, squire of a squire... has indicated, that does not seem to be enough."

"The matter of Luskan and Ember is for me to decide," said Lord Nasher to Kail and Shandra. "We are both aware of the threat this... Black Garius represents. If Luskan is interested in peace and co-operation, it is for the good of Neverwinter to respect that intention."

"I will not," said Kail. "If they were involved, then they should be made to answer for it." Made to answer for the murders, made to answer for her trial, made to answer for her nearly dying at the hands of Lorne, her best friend's brother.

"I see the Harborman... and her lackey... are as stubborn as I have heard," said Sydney. "I did not expect you to understand the subtleties of state and the delicate touch that politics require, especially in these equally delicate times."

"No, she's right! This isn't about politics, it's about the people of Ember -- you have to have known what was going to happen, and to let it just be conveniently forgotten like this, it's... it's..." Shandra stammered.

"Shandra Jerro," said Lord Nasher, "the strength of Neverwinter comes from its citizens, and you have shown that to me now. But listen to me. There are greater threats to Neverwinter as we speak. What happened at Ember is unfortunate, but I believe the one responsible has been punished for that crime. If we carry the accusation further to Luskan, I do not believe it is warranted, and furthermore, _I_ am the one who sets policy in this court. This is not about one man, or one village. This is about Neverwinter, and it is about protecting what exists."

"Lord Nasher, I had a friend, Alaine, at Ember, who barely escaped. But so many others..."

"I know, and I am sorry for their loss. But unless this Garius is stopped, I fear that another tragedy will occur, much greater than what occurred at Ember. Justice will come for those -- in time, but not today. And I need you to accept it. We all have burdens to bear, and if they must be carried so that the people of Neverwinter may be safe, then that is what must be done."

"Lord Nasher - Ambassador Natale, Crossroad Keep..." said Khralver nervously. "I fear that..."

"Silence, Khralver," barked Sydney. "Do not make me remind you again. Lord Nasher, forgive me, but Black Garius may have begun the ritual, quick action is needed. I have done what I could to inform you of what we know, it is up to you to act, if you wish. And Harborman, as further proof of my good faith, and the good faith of Luskan, rest assured I will keep looking for information on this King of Shadows... and any proof I can bring that Luskan had no involvement with Ember."

"I imagine such "proof" will come in time," said Shandra venomously.

"Yes, girl, in fact, I _know_ it will. Thank you three for hearing me. I realise these are difficult times for Neverwinter, and it was not my intention to bring another, but Luskan could not remain silent while this threat to its southern neighbour loomed. Farewell."

Everybody watched as the Hosttower mage retreated with her attendant. It was funny, thought Kail, that she was almost completely the opposite in looks to Torio, yet they both managed to walk with an arrogant swagger.

Lord Nasher cleared his throat, and she turned her attention back to him. "I have already dispatched the Many-Starred Cloaks and troops to Crossroad Keep, and I want you to go as well. Garius must be stopped. I want you to leave as soon as you are able to travel. Rescue Aldanon, and you are to do everything in your power to stop this ritual that Garius intends to perform."

"I will go at once, my Lord," she said with a tired bow.

"Excellent. I am glad I can count on you. Be careful at Crossroad Keep. If it is now Garius' stronghold as the ambassador has said, it is likely well-defended, not only with soldiers but with magics as well."

o - o - o - o - o

Outside Castle Never, the sun was beginning to rise. The rest of the group were holding quiet conversations about a variety of different subjects - the Hosttower, Garius, the King of Shadows, the slaughter in the Moonstone Mask... Shandra ignored them all, and concentrated on stoking her anger. It felt good to be angry, and she was very, very angry indeed.

How could Lord Nasher just ignore the evidence in front of him, and be naive enough to believe that the Hosttower mages, the absolute rulers of Luskan, could have been unaware of what was happening to Ember?

She was beginning to hate politics, and the more she understood, the more she hated it. Lord Nasher probably knew that the Hosttower wasn't innocent, as Sydney claimed. But he was happy to let the matter lie, because Neverwinter had its champion in Kail. In the eyes of the people, justice had been done because Kail killed Lorne, and Torio had been clapped in irons. As far as they were concerned, the matter was now over, and the people of Ember were a fading memory.

For Lord Nasher to pursue the matter with Luskan would be to tell people, "Oh, actually, justice hasn't been done after all, there's still somebody left to punish." This would make them lose faith in the justice system, and in him. So instead, he played nice with Luskan, pandered to its ambassadors, and got to keep Kail as his errand-runner.

It just wasn't fair. No wonder Casavir had left, abandoned his oaths to a city that was blinded by political meanderings. She gave the paladin a quick glance; he was as alert as ever, despite being as tired as everybody else. He just didn't let it show. Head held high, on the look out for trouble, he was the epitome of grace under pressure.

And even when he was looking around, keeping an eye out for trouble, he always managed to keep an eye on Kail. She had seen mothers doing similar with their children, but she knew that his interest in Kail wasn't as platonic as that. But Kail either didn't see his interest, or saw and ignored it. Why? Casavir was an attractive guy, and he believed in helping people, as did Kail. Sure, he may not exactly be Mr Openness and Warmth, but a girl could do a lot worse.

She shook her head. None of this mattered, none of it was important. How on earth had she become mixed up in all of this? She was fairly sure that it was either Kail's fault, or her grandfather's fault. Her grandfather's for stealing a githyanki blade a long time ago, or Kail's for having pieces of a shard lodged in her chest, and bringing the eyes of the githyanki upon herself.

But perhaps this was actually a blessing. It's wasn't like her farm had been prospering recently, not with the strange weather and the lizardling attacks on Highcliff. If her farm had done well, and she had made her yearly run to Port Llast, would she have been in Ember at the time it was burnt to the ground and its people slaughtered? Would she have shared that same fate? If it wasn't for her grandfather, for the lizardmen, for Kail... would she be dead right now? A name on a list that nobody cared about anymore because 'justice' had been done?

"Are you alright? You look a little lost." Shandra jumped in fright. She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she hadn't seen Kail approach.

"Well, aside from the frequent kidnapping, yes, I suppose," she replied. "I'm still trying to figure out what's going on. But don't worry, I'll try to keep up, so don't trouble yourself. Alright?"

"Look, if you have any questions, ask. I'm here to help you." She searched the other woman's face for a minute; she seemed sincere enough. And it wasn't like they'd had much time to talk lately, what with everything surrounding the trial.

"Alright -- I mean, I know I haven't been around you as much as, say, Khelgar Idiotfist..."

"Hey!" said Khelgar indignantly.

"Calm down. Monks aren't supposed to get sensitive about things like that."

"Well, Ironfist monks are. We have our pride."

"I think I need you to explain to me, one more time, what we're doing," she said to Kail. "We're being hunted, and accused, and put on trial, and... and... you've got silver things in you."

"Shards," piped up Sand.

"Yeah, shards, I got it, Sand, thanks."

"I derive pleasure from clarification, Miss Jerro."

"Anyway, with all that's been going on, I'm not sure I understand _why _it's been going on."

"What don't you understand?" Kail asked her.

"Well, first off, the shards in you... sorry, the shard in you, and the shards you carry. Where do they come from?"

"Well, one is buried in my chest. The others I simply find."

"What are they shards _of_."

"A powerful sword of an extraplanar people."

"Okay, see, that's where you start to lose me. Why is this thing inside _you_? And why is it broken? And what are you supposed to do with it?"

"I'm supposed to use it again the King of Shadows. At least, that's what Zeeaire wanted it for."

"And the King of Shadows is... who? Like Elminster, except evil?"

"I have no idea - yet."

"But you're willing to keep trying to find out?" If it was her who had shards in her chest, and was being pursued by several groups of nefarious people, she would have run as fast as she could.

"There's not much choice," said Kail with a noncommittal shrug. "If I don't try, it just makes things worse. Knowledge is power, so I need to find out as much as I can."

"And this Black Garius... he's also helping the King of Shadows, right?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. He's something of a mystery."

"So what did those githyanki want with you? Are they with the King of Shadows?

"I don't think so. They want the shards... and the sword back."

"But one of those shards is in your chest. If it comes out, you're dead."

"That's part of the problem, yes." How could the woman be so calm about it? It was infuriating! Couldn't she be scared, or angry, or worried, like any normal person would be? It wasn't natural, being so aloof all the time. Not even Sand managed to appear as uncaring as Kail did.

"This is the most bizarre series of events I've ever heard," she sighed. It hadn't really cleared much up, either.

"Not me," said Grobnar by her side.

"Not now, Grobnar," she said, too tired to deal with another of the little man's tales.

"All right."

"So what are you going to do about all this, exactly?" she asked Kail. The bard was silent for a moment, her eyes on the horizon, and her head tilted to one side as if she was listening to something only she could hear.

"No plan at all. I'm going to keep going on and see what happens -- I'm not dead yet, so let's see where my path takes me," she said at last. It was another infuriating non-answer, but Shandra realised it was the best she was going to get.

"Alright. Well, as long as you don't get me killed doing it, I'll do what I can."

"Don't worry, I have faith you'll pull through," said the bard with a smile.

"Well, I'm glad _you_ think so. But thanks, I appreciate the support." Kail nodded, and increased her pace so that she was at the head of the procession.

With a sigh, Shandra turned her thoughts back to the Hosttower, and Luskan. Somehow, someday, she was determined to see them pay for what they had done to Ember.

o - o - o - o - o

Though the sun was shining high in the sky, it gave off little warmth, and the breeze was bitterly cold against Kail's skin. Winter had been threatening, looming in the distance, for quite some time now, and it seemed that finally the season had turned. The trees, though, didn't seem to know what to make of the cold snap; half of them were still green, others were completely golden brown. One or two were entirely bare.

"The trees are so beautiful when they're like this," she said aloud to nobody and everybody.

"This is normal for trees outside of the Mere," said Bishop, for once not sounding condescending. "You just haven't seen it before because everything in there is permanently grey."

"True. Though I've been outside the Mere before... just never at this time in the season."

"Do you miss it?" asked Shandra.

She gave the question some serious thought. Yes, she missed it, in a way. She missed the familiarity, the sense of _knowing_ a place like the back of her hand. Inside the Mere, everything seemed much simpler, as if time passed differently there, and places inside it were untouched by the events of the world.

But she knew that was just artistic fancy. Of course West Harbor had been affected by outside events... such as the patrols from Fort Locke which had stopped earlier in the year. She hoped they had started again, and was fairly confident that Commander Tann had kept his word to resume them.

"Yes and no," she said eventually. "The Mere is a world of it's own. It was dangerous, but safe. Dark, but beautiful. Treacherous, yet simplistic. I guess I miss the stability of living there, but I've learnt and experienced so much since leaving. I don't think I'd be the same person if none of this had happened and I had never left."

"You know, I never really thought of it that way before... but I guess that sums up how I feel too. Why do you think that only by looking back can we see how small and sheltered our lives were?" Shandra asked.

"I guess because at the time, we don't know any different. It's not until we leave, and experience new things, that we realise how different life can be. Lucas told me that once you leave home, you can never go back... I think I know, now, what he meant."

"Do you think you'll ever go back to West Harbor?"

"I don't know. Maybe, when all of this is over, when I'm no longer being hunted for the shard in my chest... maybe I will. But until then, it's too dangerous. It would make West Harbor too much of a target, and put my family and friends at risk. I won't do that to them, even if it means I never get to see them again."

"That's so sad," said Shandra sympathetically.

"And yet a very noble thing to do," added Casavir.

"I like the part where you won't put your family and friends in West Harbor in danger, yet you subject all of us to it on a daily basis," said Qara.

"Nobody asked you to be here, Qara," Kail replied. "You could be back at the Flagon, safely waiting tables for my Uncle."

"That's right. We're all along because we know when to fight," said Khelgar.

"And because a friend needs our help," added Neeshka.

"And because the King of Shadows represents a risk to everybody," said Elanee.

"And because it is a worthy cause," said Casavir.

"And we hope to get rich in the process," said Bishop.

"Not everybody is motivated by money, Bishop," said Casavir with a frown.

"Not _primarily_ motivated by money," Neeshka smiled. "But it sure does help."

Kail let the argument erupt into a full scale war of words as she dropped back to walk beside Sand, who had been silent since they left Castle Never.

"I think you and I are long overdue a chat," she said. He nodded, as if expecting it. "I'd like to know more about what Torio said about you at the trial."

"There was a time I dwelled amongst the towers of Luskan, yes," he said, his eyes glazing over a little as he told his story. "For anyone interested in arcane knowledge, the masters of the towers have an impressive collection of artifacts. But... simply being in their employ is not enough And the things requested can make even the greatest of artifacts pale by comparison. And one day I simply could not continue to do what I did. The smallest refusal, and one is marked for death. So I came here, sought protection in Neverwinter. I moved my shop down here in the Docks in the hopes of avoiding notice."

"Were you in Neverwinter for the plague, and the war?"

"Sadly, yes. It was a terrible affair. I have never seen such anarchy and chaos in all my long years. People... 'civilised' people, may consider little back-water villages such as West Harbor to be uncultured, its people little more than semi-educated barbarians. But take away the noble man's creature comforts, force him to endure conditions beyond what he has experience before, threaten his livelihood and his life, and he becomes capable of the most reprehensible acts. In such times of trouble, small communities pull together. And big cities fall apart. So it was with Neverwinter. The city had to be almost completely burnt to the ground, before anything of worth could be salvaged."

"It sounds horrible. Did you... lose anybody close to you?"

"No. I had nobody close to me in or around Neverwinter at the time, unless you count Duncan. He would help smuggle supplies to me, and I would help ward his premises against those who wanted to do unscrupulous things both inside and to it."

"Do you have any family?"

"Quite the prying eye today, aren't we?" he asked with a smile.

"I'm just interested. You never really talk about yourself. Everybody knows me and my story... the shards, the King of Shadows, Duncan, the githyanki... I just want to know about the people I call my friends."

"My dear, I believe that we've barely even scratched the surface of knowing you. But in answer to your question, yes, I have family, though they live far from here. Parents and siblings, and too many cousins, nieces and nephews for my liking."

"No children?"

"Magic does not lend itself to spare time in which to practise dull rituals of affection... _or_ for raising children," he said wryly.

"I guess not."

"Besides, I am hardly over the elven hill, as it were. I haven't had a single grey hair yet, so as far as I am concerned, there is still plenty of time for finding somebody to put up with for the rest of my life. But surely we have better things to be doing than discussing my love life, or lack of it?"

"You're right. I guess all this talk of home and family and stuff just got me thinking. To change the subject, then, how much do you know about Sydney Natale, and what do you think of her motives?"

"I know little about Miss Natale, other than what I observed at our meeting, and that is that she is a gluttonous, greasy fork-tongued Luskan and cannot be trusted in the slightest. During my time at the Hosttower, I paid little attention to the politics within... I was more interested in my advancement of the craft, and the artifacts available to my study. Unlike most there, I sought to advance my knowledge for knowledge's sake, and not to increase my own power or push my own political agenda. I basically kept my head down, did what I was asked when it was asked of me, and tried not to draw _too_ much attention to myself."

"That's understandable. Do you believe what she said, about Black Garius not being affiliated with, or backed by, Luskan and the Hosttower?"

"I believe that the Hosttower mages back a horse, as long as it appears to be winning. They saw Garius and his war with Ruathym as an excuse to finally invade the island by making them seem the aggressors. Perhaps they thought that he would share his information from the Tome of Iltkazar... perhaps they thought that he was working in Luskan's favour. They thought that they could annex Ruathym, and by implicating you in a crime, make Neverwinter appear badly in the eyes of its neighbours. When it became apparent that Garius had ulterior motives and the backing of somebody potentially more powerful than them, they changed their bet to another horse, put as much distance between themselves and Garius and they could, and suddenly, what was a war between Ruathym and Luskan becomes a war between Ruathym and a rogue element whom they condemn. What was apparently a plot by Luskan to implicate one of Neverwinter's citizens in a mass murder, becomes a plot by a criminal to implicate the same."

"Thanks. You've confirmed what I suspected ever since meeting the new 'ambassador'. How much do you know about this book that Garius stole... this 'Tome of Iltkazar'?"

"Little, and most of that rumour and speculation. It allegedly contains information specific to the darker arts."

"You mean necromancy?"

"Yes and no. I've heard that it deals with creating life from non-living materials, and stealing the life source of other beings. I also heard that it deals with the Shadow Weave, as often as it does the Weave."

"What's the Shadow Weave?"

"Just as Mystra controls the Weave, the essence of magic on this plane, so does Shar control the Shadow Weave, the essence of dark magic. I must admit, I have limited my dealings, and research, on the Shadow Weave, not least because such knowledge is both dangerous and alluring. If you wish, I can attempt to procure certain books for your reading pleasure, and if you wish, I can resume my study of the Shadow Weave, if you believe it will help."

"Do _you_ believe it will help?"

"No. The Shadow Weave is no lesser and no greater than the Weave. It is its equal, its opposite. You should be able to defeat Garius without resorting to such knowledge. Or if you're not able to defeat him, knowledge of the Shadow Weave and Shadow Magics would not have helped."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"I have every confidence in you, my dear. I have as much confidence in you as I do in myself. I only wish I could say the same for all of your companions."

"Why? Who do you doubt?"

"Qara. Mark my words, she is dangerous. I have seen her kind many times before... naturals, sorcerers, who feel that just because they were born with power, that gives them the right to use it indiscriminately and without control. Such people strive for power, and are corrupted by it all too easily."

"What about... people who were born with power, but don't want to use it, and avoid using it?"

"You're referring to your latent Draconic abilities," he said confidently. She said nothing, keeping her eyes on the ground in front of her. She no longer feared her Draconic powers... now she had something much worse to fear; tainted blood of Bhaal. Not that she was going to tell Sand that. "I can understand you wanting to hide that information, but it was pretty hard to ignore when you practically incinerated Lorne during your Trial by Combat. And since I _know_ that your bardic magic is not advanced enough, nor strong enough, to allow you to access any spell above the first level, I jumped to the logical conclusion. I also plied Khelgar with ale and questions to confirm my suspicions, but I doubt he even remembers that, so don't blame him too much. I suspect most people believe you had a hidden wand or scroll which you used at the last moment. I am more astute than that."

"And what do you think about it?"

"Dragon Disciples have been learning to embrace their inherent powers for hundreds of years. I think that we fear what we feel we cannot control, and that is why you fear to use your abilities. If you like, I can help you overcome your fear."

"How?"

"Books, mainly. Possibly it may help you to meditate with Elanee, to embrace your destiny or whatever, but I can at least provide you with reading material, first-hand accounts of other Disciples, and the trials they have endured to understand and control their abilities."

"But won't that make me just like Qara, attempting to use my own powers to suit my needs?"

"I believe that intent is three-quarters of action. Qara wishes to use her powers for power's sake. To increase her own power and force people into compliance. You, I think, are wiser than that. You fear your powers, and that is healthy. That fear is what will keep you wary, keep you alive. Just remember that a tamed wolf is still a wolf."

"That's almost the same as what the wizard who lived in my village, Tarmas, once told me," she said, smiling at the memory. That had been on the day of the duergar attack, just after Amie had died. _We're all wolves,_ she thought. _Underneath the veil of civility, it all comes down to feeding, killing and reproducing. We just tell ourselves that we're better than animals to make us feel better about ourselves._

"There it is, then. Wizards the realm over are wise beyond words."

"Thanks Sand. You've given me a lot to think about," she said. Then she jogged forward to the front of the group, leader of her own unique pack.


	54. Dark Rituals

_54. Dark Rituals_

Crossroad Keep was as derelict and crumbled as Highcliff Castle had been. It was dark, and forlorn -- but it was situated in a strategically sound position, Kail quickly realised. The land around was flat, and ancient fields lay fallow. To the east, low hills gave way to high mountains. To the north, heavy forest covered the land. But the Keep held the high ground, giving defenders an advantage over attackers.

Beside the entrance to the fields, a mere break in the rickety fence, lay an unmoving body. Seeing that it was a Human corpse, burnt to a crisp, Kail looked away. Ever since Amie's death, she had been uncomfortable around fire and its destruction. Incinerating Lorne during her trial hadn't helped matters, either.

"That farmer..." said Shandra. "They didn't even bury him, just left him there for the vultures."

"If so, the vultures won't get much meat off him. He's been charred pretty badly," said Bishop.

"Show some respect for the dead, Bishop."

"Little girl, farmers living too far from a well-travelled road or town die all the time -- something _you've_ barely avoided up to now. This one, at least he died quick. Looks like a fireball burnt his worthless body to ash."

"Enough, you two," said Kail. "This isn't the time for arguments."

"Psssst!" came the sound from a nearby burnt-out farmhouse. Kail approached the building cautiously, followed by her companions. Inside the shell of the house stood half a dozen men carrying swords. Each of them wore white-blue robes. "My name is Vale, I'm with the Many-Starred Cloak," said the man who had grabbed her attention. He was an elf, she realised.

"Kail," she said with a nod of her head.

"I've been expected you. Listen, the Luskans change guard shifts around this time, moving men in and out of the Keep. If we strike hard and fast, we'll take the courtyard and be inside the Keep before they realise what's going on."

"What are we up against?"

"Around twenty Luskan soldiers in the courtyard, most of them asleep, and a handful more inside the Keep. The Arcane Brotherhood wizards will be more of a challenge, but we can handle them."

"You're not certain of the Brotherhood's numbers?"

"Luskan is just probing our defenses," said Vale. "The Hosttower wouldn't risk too many wizards on this sort of mission."

"Let's get to it then."

"The Luskans are opening the doors!" said one of the wizards who was observing the Keep from a window.

"Ready?" asked Vale. Kail nodded.

"Lead the way."

With Vale and the other wizards of the Many-Starred Cloak leading, Kail and her companions followed across the fields. Their goal was the heavy door of the Keep, which currently stood open to allow a patrol to return. They had just a short window of opportunity to overwhelm the enemy forces in the courtyard and secure access to the Keep itself.

As they clattered into the courtyard, the enemy soldiers began to wake, picking up their arms. Arrows flew past Kail, taking down soldiers before they could even stand. Some died in their sleep.

"The doors, get to the doors!" shouted Vale above the commotion. But one of the Luskan commanders was more alert than the others; he sent some of his men inside the Keep to barricade the door, while the others rushed forward to stall the attack.

Kail immediately went one-on-one with a Luskan soldier, and quickly overcame him. He was one of the few wearing armour, and was slower to react because of it. Her dagger found a weak spot in the armour at the neck, and the blade severed his carotid artery. Once her opponent was down she helped Grobnar dispatch another soldier, then turned in time to see the last soldier go down with a shard of ice lodged through his chest; some spell or other, courtesy of Qara. Everybody was panting with the exertion of the run upto the courtyard, but nobody was injured. Her own ten-strong team, coupled with the half-dozen wizards of the Cloak, had been enough to put down the resistance.

Vale and the other wizards were already on their way upto the Keep door, and Kail only waited for Neeshka to finish inspecting the bodies before joining them.

"Damn it. Nathe, Sevann, I want those doors open. Now," said Vale, before turning to speak to her. Two of the wizards stepped forward and began casting fireballs on the door. "Sorry about the delay, this should only take a moment."

"It's alright. Battles are usually unpredicatble." She knew all too well how the odds could quickly change to or from your favour.

"Vale, we're being counterspelled," said one of the wizards. "I don't think we're going to be able to open the doors from this side."

"Wonderful. Looks like the Brotherhood has a few tricks of its own," he sighed.

"Well, it won't save them once we get inside, trust me," said Qara.

"Alright, backup plan. I know this Keep has an escape tunnel somewhere. I want you to find the tunnel exit and use it to get inside the Keep."

"I'm getting a little tired of these orders," said Bishop, pulling his bow taught to test the tension of the string.

"Once you're inside," continued Vale, "kill whichever wizards are countering our spells so we can open the doors. The tunnel entrance would be in the mountains, far beyond these walls, where invaders would be unlikely to look. I will mark the likely region on your map."

"Why don't we all just use the tunnel?" Kail asked him.

"Because I don't relish the idea of our entire force being packed into a confined space, that's why. A small team is best, and that means you."

"I'll go have a look around then."

"Make it fast, Kail. Looks like the weather's about to turn against us," said Vale, pointing to the dark storm clouds on the horizon.

o - o - o - o - o

"I think I've found it," said Khelgar, pulling loose rocks away from part of the canyon wall. They had been searching for the concealed entrance for the better part of an hour, and the dark clouds were now directly overhead. Everybody rushed forward to help clear the entrance, and sure enough, behind the pile of boulders and rocks was a cave, and a long dark corridor.

"I hate being underground," said Neeshka. "It's always dark, always smells bad, and is always filled with horrible creatures."

"That's why Khelgar feels so comfortable underground," said Qara. "It reminds him of home."

"Truer words were never spoken," Khelgar admitted. "Especially whenever Khulmar got a tooth ache. You've never encountered anything so horrible in your life."

"Time to shed a little light," said Kail. She spoke the words of the Light spell, and an orb of white light appeared above and slightly in front of her. Grobnar did the same, followed by Qara and Sand. "Everybody with a light, space yourselves out. Everybody else, keep your weapons handy and be on your guard. Khelgar, will you do the honours?"

"By all means," he said, and led the way into the cave.

True to the nature of all caves, this one was dark, smelled bad, and was filled with horrible creatures. Spiders, and oversized beetles of different varieties -- stag beetles, fire beetles, and bombardier beetles, Grobnar reliably informed her -- had taken up residence in the tunnels, making this escape route quite deadly for anybody planning on actually escaping. By the time the group had reached the end of the tunnel, however, the cave system was considerably less dangerous.

"You know," said Shandra as Neeshka worked on opening a locked door at the end of the cavern, "I never thought I could get used to killing stuff."

"I know what you mean. I used to feel the same way, just after I left West Harbor," said Kail, cleaning one of her daggers.

"What changed?"

"Every fight I was in, I was fighting for my life. And most of the time, I hadn't done anything to deserve such hostility, except to exist. When people began taking exception to my existence, I began getting used to killing them."

"Well... I suppose that's one way of looking at it."

"Here's another," said Bishop, interrupting the conversation. "Fight or die. Debate morality later."

"I'm surprised you even know what morality is," sniffed Shandra. He gave her a feral grin.

"Looks like all these lessons you're having are toughening your spine a little, farm-girl. Just don't get too big for your boots. You're still a long way from home, and a long way from becoming anywhere near competent enough to survive without a group of babysitters."

"Got it," said Neeshka, straightening up from the door. "Not much of a lock, though. I doubt it protects anything valuable."

"We'll see," said Kail. "Now, who would like to be first to see what Black Garius is hiding behind a locked door?"

"Sounds like my kinda job," said Khelgar, pushing his way to the front of the group. When he opened the door, everybody else crowded around him, following closely.

The room seemed quite large, and there were bookshelves everywhere. The books themselves were in piles all over the floor, or stacked haphazardly on the shelves.

"Ugh, it smells like the Academy in here," said Qara.

"That would be the smell of education and history that you are experiencing," said Sand. "Quite a novel concept to you, I'm sure."

"Hello? Is somebody there?" The tenuous voice sounded extremely familiar, and it was followed into view by its owner. Aldanon looked the same as Kail remembered him; in fact, she was sure that he was even wearing the same robe that she had last seen him in. He seemed a little dazed, but otherwise unharmed.

"Oh. I say... I remember you," said Aldanon, blinking at her. "You were the one with those interesting silver shards. Although I'm afraid I'm not certain if I introduced myself the first time we met. Did I?"

"Yes, you did, Aldanon," she said. He looked surprised.

"Excellent, good to see I haven't complete forgotten my manners. Tend to be a little forgetful at times, you know."

"I'm aware. We're here to rescue you."

"Oh yes, that's right, I was captured, wasn't I? Truth be told, I totally forgot about it. They gave me these tomes and some peace and quiet, and, well, I suppose I just lost track of time. You see, these books... They all concern some sort of horrific ritual, something about bringing shadows and power to all the recipients involved. I haven't gotten all the details down yet, wanted to do a thorough study first, but it all seems terribly threatening. Don't care for it at all.

"Is there any chance they're doing this ritual right now?" she asked, fighting down impatience.

"Oh, I should hope not! If so, they'd best be careful. The slightest disruption could have lethal consequences. Mark my words, it always pays to triple check all your wards and post guards to prevent interruptions if you ever plan to do something of the sort. You know, it does remind me of this one time where I had let my wards down to let a messenger in, and this kidnapper struck, completely uns-"

"I need to find them and stop their ceremony," she interrupted before he could start waffling again.

"Oh, I doubt they're doing anything of the sort. I told them that it would be unwise and might cause untold damage... well, to everyone except themselves. They seemed to agree, and were quite receptive to my advice. You young people worry too much about your elders... _we're_ not the ones running headlong into danger all the time."

"They lied to you," she explained with a sigh. "Look, how do we stop this ritual?"

"Well, stopping it would be easy. Simply do what you young people do best - kick down the door and make a lot of noise. Like my gardener after one too many swigs from his wineskin."

"Do you know where they might do this ritual?" The Keep looked huge, and if they had to search every room, they might never stop it in time.

"They would need a lot of room and privacy for the ritual, so I would simply find a large room with heavy doors and a lot of chanting. That should be the one."

"Then I'm going to find them. Get out of here and warn Neverwinter."

"Well, all right..." he said hesistantly. "As long as I could come back later, you know. Save these books, I mean, they even have a copy of the Tome of Vile Darkn-"

"Get out of here and warn Neverwinter. _Now_," she snapped.

"Alright, alright! I'll leave at once. This whole ruckus is probably about nothing, as usual, just like my "kidnapping" in Blacklake."

"That man is trying at the best of times," said Elanee.

"I say, look at this," said Grobnar, pulling a book from a shelf.

"What is it?" asked Kail, peering over his shoulder -- not hard, given his small stature -- to glance at the text.

"It's the Ancient Art of Golemcraft. I think I can use this to bring Mister Pointy back to life. Or un-life, as it were. Or perhaps it's best described as non-life, seeing as how he's animated, non-biological material."

"Just bring the book. We can decide on his state of life when we've got less important things to be worrying about."

"Yes, of course, silly of me to be thinking about such things at a time like this." He put the book into his backpack -- which was only slightly bigger than the book itself -- and hoisted it onto his shoulder. "So, where do you think we should start looking for this ritual?"

"I think first we should see about getting Vale and the other wizards into the Keep. The more eyes we have searching, the faster we'll find it and stop it."

"Why? We don't need them, they can't even get themselves past a counterspell and into the Keep," said Qara scornfully.

"I already told you why. We need more eyes. Besides, I didn't see _you_ offering to help them break past the counterspell. If you like, you can go back and try to help. I'm sure with your power, they'll have no problem in getting past the Brotherhood."

"There's no way I'm walking all the way back there. It will be more fun to kill the Brotherhood from inside anyway."

"Good. Now shut up and leave the planning to me."

The sorceress crossed her arms in a huff, but said nothing else. Kail ignored her and began looking for a way out of the room.

The only other door in the room was locked, but it didn't take Neeshka long to rectify that. In a few minutes, Kail and her companions were searching the corridors for any sign of the Arcane Brotherhood wizards who were so effectively keeping the Many-Starred Cloak out. Grobnar opened a door, then ducked just in time to avoid an arrow that whistled past him and clattered against the wall.

"Oops," he said, crawling behind a wall. "I think I found them."

"Did you see how many there are?" she asked, joining him by the open doorway. "At least eight soldiers, and two wizards on the far side, but they're facing another door. I think it's the entrance to the Keep.

"Good work. We'll never get in the room while they're shooting at us, though."

"Maybe someone could create a diversion... you know, cast an illusion in the middle of the room, or something," suggested Shandra.

"Sadly, we can only cast a spell where we can see," said Sand. "And I for one don't fancy sticking my head around that doorway and having it filled with arrows."

"What if you used this?" said Neeshka, taking her small mirrorscope out of a pouch on her belt. "I use it for looking around corners."

Sand examined the scope, turning it over in his hands and looking down the sight.

"Perfect," he said. "I think I'll have to make one of my own. Imagine the convenience of being able to cast spells into areas you can't see, without endangering yourself!"

"It's too bad most spells have a limited range," said Grobnar. "Otherwise you could use my Telescopic Night-Time Vision Enhancers to cast spells on enemies miles away."

"Hmm," said Sand, with a speculative gleam in his eye. "Yes, that's too bad. It's even more unfeasible than a Time-Stop Bottle."

"Do I have to remind you both that we're running out of time? One of you cast something into that room and divert those guards, or Garius might be able to finish whatever he's planning."

Looking a little chagrined, Sand put the mirrorscope to his eye and used it to peer around the doorway. Everyone was silent as he cast his spell, and a moment later there were anguished cries from within the room.

"We're safe to enter and dispatch the Luskans," said Sand, looking pleased with himself. Khelgar immediately rushed foward, brandishing his axe. He was followed by Casavir, with Shandra and Elanee right behind. Qara too rushed forward -- she was always eager to use her powers, especially when it involved killing.

When Kail followed them into the room, she was met with the sight of Luskan archers shooting at two large ogres who were stood in the middle of the room. Each ogre was bristling with arrows, but they both managed to swing their clubs at their attackers. Where their weapons met flesh, humans went flying, and rarely got up again.

As Khelgar, Casavir, Shandra and Elanee closed on the remaining guards, Qara turned her attention to the Arcane Brotherhood. Kail sensed that the wizards were counterspelling -- she herself knew how to do that, though she probably wasn't anywhere near as good as the wizards at it -- and Qara immediately took on an aura of magical energy as she began casting a spell at them. A plethora of magic missiles suddenly spread out from the sorceress' body; some were deflected by magical shields around the Brothers, but most of them met their mark.

Kail felt a moment of envy over Qara's lack of concern about her powers; the girl embraced the power that she was born with easily, never worrying about it controlling her or corrupting her. All she cared for was the bliss that she felt when she was at the height of her power, all she lived for was the moment that she embraced her gifts and knew that she was the most powerful person around.

She only wished that she could have that kind of freedom. But her own power was of a different nature. Her power came, in part, from an ancient draconic ancestry. From having a tiny amount of dragon's blood in her veins. But the majority of her power came from her grandfather, from Bhaal. It was the power of a god, no doubt somewhat diluted, but no less evil because of it. If she was tempted, if she gave in, even for a moment, that power would consume her, it would change her, and not for the better. She would become something hated, something feared. Her friends would leave her, Lord Nasher would withdraw his support and withdraw her status of Squire, and she would be alone against the King of Shadows.

At one point, she would not have worried about being alone against anything. Now, she understood the value of friends and allies. Where would she be without Neeshka and Khelgar, without Elanee, without Grobnar and Casavir, without Shandra and Sand and Bishop... and yes, even without Qara? She would be dead, easily. In all likelihood, she would not have made it out of the Mere.

And more, she understood the danger represented by Garius and the King of Shadows. Although the King of Shadows was still a mystery, she at least knew enough about Garius to know that he was a powerful mage. She, alone, might be able to handle a couple of fighters, a couple of githyanki, perhaps. But alone, against Garius, she stood no chance. And even less against the King of Shadows, who had once laid waste to the northern part of the Sword Coast.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that when she was encircled by a strong pair of arms and pulled several feet to one side, she let out a squeal of surprise. An instant after she was moved, a large hand-axe rebounded off the wall in the place where she had been stood. Had she still been there, it would have split her head like a melon.

"If you want to day-dream in the middle of a fight, that's fine. Just don't expect me to save you next time," said Bishop, nocking an arrow to his bow and loosing it at the Luskan guard who had thrown the axe.

"Thank you," she said, genuinely grateful, for once, that somebody had been there to save her from her own stupidity. What was she thinking, contemplating her life in the middle of battle!? Her head felt like it was swimming, giddy with relief at avoiding death.

She turned her attention back to the fight just in time to see the last Arcane Brother take one of Neeshka's arrows to his head. Luskan corpses littered the room, a couple of them twitching as their life-force left them. Of her friends, only Shandra was injured, but Elanee was already seeing to that. With nothing else to do, she approached the ogres.

"They're very... convincing... illusions," she said at least. She had never seen an ogre, except as a picture in a book, and hadn't realised how tall they were.

"I don't do illusions," said Sand. "These beasts are quite real, and once the spell ends, in approximately forty seconds, they will disappear to whence they came."

"You look a little flushed," Casavir said to her. "Are you injured?"

"I deserve to be. But no, I'm fine."

"The importance of this mission weighs heavily on all of us," he replied quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder and bending his shoulders to almost her head-level. "I think you can be forgiven for being distracted. I know that there is much on your mind, and it was unfair of Lord Nasher to ask you to undertake this task so soon after your trial, and the battle with Lorne."

"I'm glad he did. I don't think I could rest easy, knowing that somebody else was in charge of stopping Garius."

At that moment, the front doors of the Keep were flung open, and the wizards of the Many-Starred Cloak sauntered into the entrance hall. Casavir removed his hand from her shoulder, and stood up straighter. For a moment she regretted that he did so. Her shoulder felt bare, now; physical contact, except in a violent sense, was rare for her, and she hadn't been touched intimately since before Valear left for Myth Drannor. As Khelgar said, 'Lass, ye project yer personal space about three feet around you.' Even her friends kept their distance from her, except for Neeshka.

"Nice work," said Vale, surveying the bodies. "I don't suppose you left any for us?"

"Why bother? You wouldn't have done anything anyway," sneered Bishop. Vale blinked at him.

"Don't let him bother you, he's always like this," said Shandra.

"Very well. I any case, we still need to find Aldanon and the rest of the Arcane Brotherhood."

"Aldanon's safe and heading back to Neverwinter," said Kail

"Glad to hear it. Now we shoul-" The Elf faltered as a wave of magical energy swept through the Keep. It washed through Kail, leaving her mind numb and her legs weak. Unable to stand, she sank to her knees. And she was not the only one. All around her, people were kneeling down, clutching at anything nearby to steady themselves. One of the Cloak wizards was even retching on the floor.

"Ah, ths would be the 'impending' part of our impending doom," said Sand. He tried to stand. "But wh- ennnh." Unable to make his legs support his body, he sank to the ground once again.

"What's going on?" said Vale. "I feel...weak."

"Aldanon claimed Garius was attempting a dark ritual," she replied. "Looks like he was right."

"Black Garius? _Here?_ Our chances against him are slim, and I'm being optimistic," said the Elf. His skin was pale, probably a combination of magical shock and fear of Garius.

"If you're not going to help me destroy him, then get out of my way," she said. Forcing her legs to obey her, she stood, tottered for a moment, then regained her balance. Around her, the others were also trying to stand, with varying degrees of success. At least none of her friends had been sick. "Nasher knew when he sent you that Garius would be here. If he didn't tell you, then take it up with him. It's not my problem."

"Agreed," said Bishop. He too was on his feet, though he seemed to be making a convincing attempt at supporting a wall. "Enough talking - let's get Garius. We don't need this fool's help."

"I never said anything about not helping you," said Vale testily. He pushed himself to his feet, and stared her straight in the eye. "Let's go." She nodded at him.

"Alright. Everybody, spread out. Check every door. We're looking for something that may be heavily guarded, with a lot of chanting coming from the other side. That's how Aldanon put it, anyway."

Once everybody had recovered from the wave of dark energy, they began to drift away in small groups. As they searched the doors leading from the room, Kail sat on a lone surviving chair and examined her map of the region. It was the same map that her father had given her on the night that she left West Harbor. She had never needed maps before; she had known the paths of the Mere around her village better than the back of her hand, although not as well as Elanee had known them.

Now, her map was littered with annotations, with marks and indicators and crosses. Somebody had even written, hopefully in jest, 'Here Be Dragons', beside a large black X high in the mountains. That was probably Neeshka's doing; where you found dragons, you found dragon hoards, or so the theory went. Regardless, what had once been a piece of parchment with nothing more than 'West Harbor', 'Weeping Willow', 'Highcliff' and 'Neverwinter' marked on it, now contained markers for The Skymirror, for Old Owl Well, for the Ironfist Clanhold, for Ember and Port Llast, for the Duskwood and, more recently, Crossroad Keep. This map represented everything she had done, everything she had achieved, since leaving home.

The image went dark as a shadow fell across the parchment.

"Yes, we're depressingly far from anywhere of interest," said Bishop casually. "Though I admit, the woods behind this place have some... potential."

"A chance to move goods from A to C via B without being noticed?" she asked, folding up the map and tucking it into her belt pouch.

"I think I resent the implication. I'm a reformed man. I've abandoned my unlawful ways, and turned onto the path of righteousness and good. No longer will I accept money for delivering goods and performing services... instead, I shall travel the realm, ever vigilant for a chance to smite evil, ever watchful for the bunnies and the squirrels that need a helping hand, taking from the rich and giving to the poor, who are ever so deserving of my aid."

She grinned at the image of Bishop helping anybody, much less poor people and bunnies. Instead of laughing with her, however, he ran the back of his fingers along her jaw, tickling her skin.

"Now that's what I've been waiting to see."

"What?" she asked, thoroughly confused.

"You haven't smiled since before Ember. I figure that getting rid of Garius has to be a hell of a lot easier than making you smile, so the odds of us actually coming out of this alive just went way up."

"And for a moment there I thought you actually cared about my happiness."

"Sorry to disappoint you."

"Oh, I'm not disappointed. You can only be disappointed with something that you have expectations of."

"Your claws are as sharp as ever, wildcat," he grinned.

Conscious of his fingers still on her chin, she batted his hand away and made a show of checking her supply of bolts for the RAMP. In the short time that she had owned it, she was becoming increasingly reliant on it, and always felt a little nervous when she was running low on ammunition. Luckily, Grobnar was more than happy to provide new bolts, and seemed to be able to churn them out at a remarkable speed. Where he got the materials from, or how he made them, she did not know. It was probably a Gnomish thing.

"I've found something!" called Elanee from down a hallway. "There's somebody inside this room," she explained, relinquishing her place at the keyhole so that others could peer through. Everybody made way for Kail, and she put one eye against the hole, closing the other.

Inside the room were a group of Shadow Priests, and a woman who had the air of a leader about her. With a sigh, Kail took the safety catch off the RAMP.

"When I open the door, I want everyone to get a sight on the priests and be ready to hit them with arrows, bolts or spells. I don't want to give them a chance to cast anything nasty. We really can't afford to be delayed any longer," she explained. When everybody murmered their assent, she opened the door and lifted her weapon, aiming at the woman stood in front of her. The woman, however, merely watched as she took a step forward.

"You may not pass, Kail Farlong," said the woman. Kail raised her eyebrows in surprise. How had the woman known who she was? "Our King forbids it. Garius will be reborn this night."

"Reborn? In what way?"

"Reborn in darkness, and freed from his mortal shell. Garius will join with the King of Shadows, become one with the eternal dark, ever living, ever serving."

"Not if I stop the ritual, he won't."

"May the King forgive your ignorance. Embrace his Shadow, Kail Farlong. It is not too late for you."

"Maybe, maybe not. But it's too late for you."

"Come forth, brothers and sisters!" cried the woman. "Help us, in the name of your King!"

The room began to fill with darkness, and Kail pulled the trigger on the RAMP. At the same time, her companions fired their own weapons, and a wave of arrows and bolts went flying into the room, skewering two of the priests. Kail stepped forward with her dagger in hand, and sliced open the throat of the priestess, who was holding her hands against her stomach where ten small bolts had pierced her armour and skin. The woman sank to the floor, but her eyes held no fear as her life left her.

Kail turned, then went cold. Something was grasping her arms, something dark and almost formless, and where it touched her, it seemed to be sucking the very strength from her body. Her knees buckled and she dropped her dagger. Inside her body, her bones felt like ice, and she felt herself shaking with cold. She heard sounds, saw faces, and knew that her friends were shouting to her, but she could not hear their words. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. She could hear her own heartbeat, and it sounded like it was fading. Her companions were moving, but slowly, and with a strange fluidity to their motion. Her vision began to fade, turning as black as the shadowy hands that held her.

Then she saw a figure, seemingly lit with an inner light. The light grew brighter and brighter, pure brilliant white. Strange, how the light didn't seem to burn; to her eyes, it looked hotter than the sun. It should have blinded her. Instead, it sliced through the shadows and the darkness. Whatever was holding her shrieked in fear and pain, then it released her as its shadowy body was torn apart from the light.

The light faded, and the figure resolved into that of Casavir. He stepped forward, and with just one hand, hauled her to her feet. Had he always been that strong, or was she merely weak?

"I hate the undead," she said, or tried to say. Her words came out garbled, her tongue apparently not ready to work just yet.

"The shadow has drained her strength," said Casavir to Elanee. The druid nodded, placed her hands on Kail's temples, and chanted something that she didn't catch.

Warmth spread throughout her body, warmth like a hot bath at the end of a cold, tiring day. She grasped Elanee's arms as her body began to respond again to her direction.

"Ooh, do that again," she said, grinning happily at the warmth in her body. The aura of magical energy around them faded, and Elanee smiled.

"Doing it again won't have any effect on you, since you are no longer drained of energy. And I would prefer it if you would stay that way."

"I'm glad to see that you're once again well," said Vale. "Rest assured that I was just about to dispatch the shadows when your friend intervened."

"I'm glad you're here," she told Casavir. "And thank you. I think that was the worst thing I've ever experienced."

"And I'm glad that you are okay," he replied.

"Yes, yes, we're all glad about everything," said Bishop. "Now can we get on? This place is hardly my idea of a good time."

"Hey, look," said Neeshka. "This door is glowing."

Kail stepped over to examine the door. True enough, there was a bright blue aura around it. Part of Kail wanted to reach out and touch it, to see what happened. Another part of her -- the part that was instinctive, and came from a long line of ancestors who learnt the hard way that touching fire would burn, and touching snakes would get you bitten -- knew that touching the door was a really stupid idea. She put her hands in her pockets to prevent curiosity from overwhelming her.

"What is that?" said Qara, fascination obvious in her voice. "It's got a lot of power emanating from it."

"Watch your fingers, a glowing door is rarely a good thing, I've found," said Neeshka. She grinned. "Then again, glowing doors usually guard something quite valuable, so maybe we could take a quick look."

"It is heavily warded. It would take most of the mages in Neverwinter to get past it, and it would take time we don't have," Sand pointed out.

"Good," said Shandra. "I don't know what's wrong with that door, but it's either really good, or, considering our luck, probably really, really bad."

"Let's worry about getting it open later. We still have more fighting ahead," said Vale.

"Those priests seemed to be guarding these stairs," said Khelgar, indicating some steps that ended in a heavy wooden door. Kail sighed. Was there no end to this place?

"Alright. Lead on,"

The door was not locked, and the stairs were wide enough for them to walk two abreast. Sand fell in beside Kail as she descended.

"I couldn't help but notice that you seem to be having a run of bad luck today," he said.

"Oh?"

"Twice now, you've narrowly avoided death whilst fighting."

"We all have bad days," she said with a shrug.

"Yes, we do. And over the years, I've had more than my fair share of them. Can I make a recommendation?"

"Of course."

"When we find Garius, we will be forced to fight him. Stay out of that fight. Or even better, out of sight."

"You know I can't do that, Sand. I can't let everybody else risk their lives whilst I do nothing."

"On the other hand, if the battle is lost because everybody is too worried about keeping you safe, you wouldn't feel too much better about it."

"We won't lose. And I won't give anybody cause to. Yes, I've been a little careless today. But now my survival instincts have kicked in, so I'll be fine."

"My dear, if your survival instincts were working _at all_, you wouldn't be anywhere near this place. You would be in some far-away place, like Kara-Tur, having absolutely nothing to do with Garius or the King of Shadows."

"That can't be helped. Even if I ran, they'd follow. The shards that I hold represent a risk to the King of Shadows, and they won't leave me in peace until I'm dead. So I have to make the best of the situation that I'm in. And I won't stand by whilst my friends risk their lives on _my_ fight."

"Very well. But just try to be careful. I have no desire to see you die... I would never hear the end of it from Duncan.

"Don't worry, I'll be careful," she assured him.

She stepped out into the room at the bottom of the stairs, and looked around her. It seemed to be some sort of store room. Barrels and crates littered the floor, while shelves that were stood against the wall held a variety of bottles, food rations and medical supplies.

"Take the medical supplies, but don't touch the food or the bottles," she instructed her friends. "There's no telling what's in them, or how long they've been there."

"Oh look," said Grobnar, pointing to the far end of the room. "Another Blade Golem! I wonder if he's related to Mister Pointy. Do you think that we can keep him?"

When it saw them, the Blade Golem stood straighter, then advanced. Its bladed arm was wickedly sharp, its armour gleamed immaculately. This one had obviously seen less battle than the one they had salvaged from the githyanki outpost, but that didn't make it any less dangerous.

Qara raised her hands to cast a spell at the same time as Elanee. From the sorceress' fingertips came a sticky web, and at the same time, vines whipped up from the ground. The web hit the golem, knocking it over and sticking it to the floor. The vines wrapped around the construct's appendages, holding it still.

Once the creature was motionless, Casavir and Grobnar approached it, weapons to hand, and began beating against its body. Each strike created a resounding clang, and Kail winced. Garius undoubtedly heard it, and wondered what was happened to create such a commotion. She hoped that he didn't speed up the ritual because of it.

As with the previous golem, this one also twisted and turned, trying to free itself from its binding. Khelgar and Casavir weren't damaging it fast enough. Soon it would be free.

"Grobnar, is there anything in that book of Golemcraft on how to _un-craft_ the golems?" she asked the Gnome. He took the book from his pack and began hurriedly flipping through the pages.

"Let's see... components, crafting, creating... understanding golems, unusual golems... no, there's nothing on how to un-make them."

"Any ideas? Don't you have some sort of invention that can destroy it? You're good at creating dangerous things!" she said desperately. One of the golem's legs was free, and it wouldn't be long until the rest of it followed.

"Well, you could try dropping it into a volcano. That should be hot enough to melt the rune inscriptions on the armour that tell it what to do."

"Right, because Neverwinter is famed for its local volcanoes," scoffed Qara.

"Grobnar, you're a genius!" said Kail. Why hadn't she thought of it herself?

"I am? Oh, excellent!"

"Khelgar, Casavir, get away from the golem!" she called to her friends. They stepped back towards her, and she turned to the others. "Stay as far back as you can... some way up the stairs," she told them.

"This is a terrible idea," said Neeshka, catching onto her plan. "You know you don't have that sort of control."

"I'll manage. Now get back. If this doesn't work, you might want to run."

Everybody hurried to the stairs, and Kail felt suddenly alone. The golem was still working at getting itself free, so she took several deep breaths and tried to calm her racing pulse. Neeshka was right, this was a really, really bad idea. But what other option was there? She didn't have a volcano to drop the thing into, but dragon-fire might _just_ be hot enough to destroy the inscriptions on the golem's armour. She only hoped that she could make it work. She had never purposely tried to create dragon-fire before, it had always been an accident, a result of great anger or fear.

She concentrated on the golem, and tried to imagine it wreathed in flames. Nothing happened. She tried again, focusing her mind on heat, on creating a wave of fire. Still nothing happened, and the golem managed to free its bladed arm. It began hacking at the web and vines, freeing the rest of its body.

Her body screamed at her to run away, and she fought the urge to take a step back. She couldn't flee, couldn't give in to her fear. Either she or the golem would be destroyed, but she wouldn't be caught running.

The construct was completely free. It halted for a moment, appeared to almost be considering the situation, then it lumbered forward, right towards her. Ten steps away. Eight steps away. Six steps away. _Oh crap_. Four steps away. Two steps away. The golem pulled back its bladed arm, preparing to swing it in a decapitating arc. Kail raised her hands in a gesture that she knew wouldn't protect her, and the huge blade came slicing through the air toward her head.

It took only a second for her body to heat up, and she felt herself stood in the middle of a storm of fire that did not touch her. The flames seemed to encompass her body, her entire field of vision was filled with them, and they shot out at the golem in a seemingly unending stream. The fire was so hot that the flags of stone beneath her feet began to melt, the rock hissing and popping before its component minerals turned to molten liquid.

The fire seemed to last an eternity, a time during which Kail felt oddly detached from her body. When the flames stopped pouring from her, when the heat abated, her normal sense of self returned, and she let out a sigh of relief. She had been afraid that the taint of her blood would try to control her, to take over her body whilst she was preoccupied. But it hadn't. She had survived, both physically and mentally.

In front of her, the golem was a twisted pile of barely recognisable metal. The bottom half of its torso was fused to the floor, which was slowly cooling. The rest of it was immobile, no doubt rendered helpless once its instructing runes had been destroyed. Its body had a red glow to it, and seemed to be giving off quite a lot of heat.

"Remind me never to get on yer bad side, lass," said Khelgar, approaching the golem with an appreciative gleam in his eye.

"I could have done just as well," said Qara dismissively.

"Well, that certainly dealt with that," said Shandra. She gave the golem, and the parts of the floor that were molten, a wide berth.

"That was the most awesome thing I ever saw," Neeshka grinned. "Good job this place is built of stone, not wood, huh?"

"Very well done," said Vale. "Though I would recommend we leave the celebrations until we've defeated Garius."

"You're right, of course," said Kail, stepping past the molten golem. "And since this thing was protecting the only other door in the room, I think we can safely assume that Garius and his friends are waiting for us."

"I think I have just the thing to aid us in our fight," said Grobnar. He rummaged in the scroll case that he always carried in his pack, and handed her a piece of parchment.

"Perfect," she said, handing it back to him. "You do the honours."

Grobnar spoke the words from the scroll, and waved his hand with a flourish. A wave of magical energy passed over Kail and everybody else in the room, and she immediately felt lighter, her step more springy.

"Mass Haste," she smiled. "We should get moving before this wears off and we lose our edge."

Together, the group hastened towards the door. Kail opened it and stepped into the room before anyone could argue about going first. Her friends and the wizards crowded into the room behind her, but they were not alone. Garius was stood in the centre of a circle that was etched into the floor and glowing with magical energy. Around him, at four points of the circle, stood four wizards of the Arcane Brotherhood. And protecting them were over half a dozen Luskan soldiers and wizards.

Garius caught sight of her, and sneered. "You four, ignore them!" he snapped at the wizards around him. "Keep concentrating! The rest of you - kill them!"

The soldiers ran forward, their weapons drawn. From behind her, Casavir, Shandra and Khelgar rushed forward to mee them, as did the six mages of the Many-Starred Cloak. Meanwhile, Elanee began casting a spell, as did Sand and Qara. Grobnar began singing a song, and Kail felt her skin begin to harden. She recognised the song as an ironskin chant; something she herself was unable to do. Obviously Grobnar was much more accomplished as a bard than she had given him credit for.

Behind her, Neeshka and Bishop were loosing arrows at the enemy soldiers at a phenomenal rate. Kail fired the RAMP at a soldier who had gotten too close to Grobnar, then took her dagger and sword from their sheathes. The only problem with the RAMP was that once it had been fired, it took a long time to reload. In the heat of battle, it was only really good for one shot.

She ran forward, and met a Luskan's sword with the Short Sword of Quickness that her Uncle had given to her. She parried his blow, and kicked him in the stomach. As he bent over, winded, she brought her dagger -- the knife that Bishop had lent her and not yet claimed back -- down and into the warrior's back, directly between his shoulder blades. She felt the knife his his spine, then withdrew it, and kicked him away as he fell to the ground.

From the corner of her eye she saw another Luskan rush at Qara whilst the sorceress was concentrating on a spell. Kail reached down into her bracers with her fingers, and through one of her knives under-hand at the man's legs. The weapon lodged itself into his thigh, and the man stumbled. Two more blades followed, one in his stomach, one in his shoulder. The man pulled them out, bleeding from his wounds, and advanced again. But quicker than she was Casavir, who tackled the Luskan, carrying them both to the floor. The paladin raised his hammer, and smashed it down onto the other man's head. Blood spattered across the floor as his skull was shattered. Kail turned away, and looked for another target.

The Cloak mages seemed to be handling themselves quite well, working in pairs against an opponent. Shandra was also coping well; her intensive training sessions with Khelgar and Casavir, as well as occasional sessions with Kail herself, seemed to be paying off. The woman blocked blows with her shield, then counter-attacked with her short sword, all while keeping on the move, making it harder for her opponent to target her.

Bolts of lightning shot through the air around her, ripping through the bodies of the remaining Luskans. Most dropped to the floor where they stood, cooked from the inside out. One or two managed to dodge the bolts, but Qara sent shards of ice hurtling towards them in a vicious storm. The warriors were cut to pieces by the razor-sharp shards. Not a pretty sight.

"Idiots!" screamed Black Garius from the centre of the room. For a moment, Kail thought he was cursing at her, but then she saw that he was addressing the four wizards around him, who were looking at the corpses of their fallen comrades in shock. "You're not focusing- "

Suddenly, the magical energy that was crackling between them and Garius seemed to go wild. It twisted and writhed, as if it possessed life, and it struck each of the wizards, tearing through their bodies until they collapsed on the floor. Kail hurried back away from the occult circle that was etched into the floor, and everyone followed her lead.

When the last wizard corpse hit the floor, the magic seemed to turn in on itself, rushing towards its focal point, its source; Black Garius. An implosion was the only word Kail could apply to what happened next. The magic rushed towards the centre of the circle, coalescing into a tiny point of darkness that seemed to consume Garius' body.

"What... have you _done_ to me?" he screamed as the magic tore through him. Kail closed her eyes as the flesh was torn from his body, but that didn't stop her from being hit by the shock wave that followed. She was knocked to the ground, and found herself sprawling in a pile of bodies -- thankfully the warm, living bodies of her friends.

"What in the hells was going on in here?" asked Vale, separating himself from the mass of people and standing shakily to his feet.

"What you see here is the price one pays when attempting to use power without the means to control it," said Sand.

"I'm sorry, Sand, I could barely hear you over the condescension -- did you mean that thinly-veiled lesson for all of us, or just me?" Qara shot at him.

"I _was_ speaking of Black Garius, Qara, But it is a lesson you could stand to learn as well, I think."

"What are we standing around for?" asked Neeshka. "We beat Black Garius and his wizards... come on, let's search the bodies."

"We've earned our swords this day, I think," said Khelgar. "Would have been nice to crush Black Garius ourselves, but it's a little more satisfying for him to be undone by his own ritual."

"We have prevented a great evil here... but something... something still feels wrong," Casavir mused quietly. "Perhaps it is simply the after effects of the ritual and its power."

"The power here is what felt at the heart of the Mere - and almost as strong," said Elanee. "We have stopped this ritual, but we should remain on our guard. Shadow still touches this place... and these bodies."

"We need to report back to Neverwinter immediately and tell Lord Nasher what happened here," said Vale.

Kail nodded. It would be nice to get back to Neverwinter. Back to the Flagon. It would be nice to just sit in front of the fire, and not have to worry about anything, and for a brief time, pretend that everything was well.


	55. What You Fight For

_55. What You Fight For_

Kail closed her eyes, and let her body sink further into the bathtub. She had graciously allowed everybody to bathe before her, in recognition of all the hard work they'd put into destroying Garius and his plans. Luckily, while they'd been gone, Duncan had seen fit to put two more bath tubs in the bathroom, so bathing everybody was three times quicker. Elanee, Shandra and Neeshka had been first, followed by Grobnar, Casavir and Khelgar. Qara had insisted on bathing alone, as had Sand, which also left Bishop to bathe in peace. Now it was her turn, and she was determined to scrub herself until her skin was immaculately clean.

As soon as they had returned to Neverwinter, Vale had insisted on reporting to Lord Nasher. She had left him to it. Her priorities did not include debriefing the Lord while she smelt of blood and sweat, and was covered with dust and mud. If Nasher wanted to see her, he knew where he could find her.

It was amazing how a simple tub of hot water could make her feel human again. How it could seem to wash away all of her problems, as she washed away the dirt from her body. The hot water made her feel cleansed, in body and mind, and she made a mental note to have a good soak in the bath more often.

Once she was clean, and the water had started to cool, she stepped out of the bath and rubbed herself dry with her towel. Then she dressed in a clean change of clothes; brown trousers and a simple white laced shirt. Today, she was Kail, formerly of West Harbor. Kail, bard extraordinaire, squire errant, hero of Neverwinter, was having the rest of the day off.

Steam rolled out into the corridor when she opened the bathroom door. She took her dirty clothes back to her room, stayed there long enough to run a comb through her hair, which had grown to just below her shoulders again, then made her way to the common room.

Her newly-clean friends had taken their usual places in the room; Khelgar was at the bar, with Grobnar tinkering with something further away. Bishop was in front of the fire with Karnwyr by his feet, and Qara was sat at a nearby table. Elanee and Casavir had claimed another table, while Neeshka worked at mending a shirt on another chair by the fire. Shandra sat at a table, staring into her glass of ale as if it contained all the answers to life's questions. Of Sand there was no sign. She wandered over to Shandra's table, and slid into a seat opposite the other woman.

"Are you alright? You look a little lost again," she said. That was usually the case, when you were trying to find answers in the bottom of a tankard of ale.

"Well... yes. Look, I'm sorry I got mad at you before," Shandra replied. "It's just that sometimes I don't think you understand what it's like, being a farmer out in the middle of nowhere, and then having all... this... happening."

"I may not have been a farmer myself, but I did grow up in a tiny farming community. I know how difficult it is sometimes, especially when you don't have much experience to fall back on. It's hard, now, but it will get better in time."

"I hope so. Anyway, I didn't mean to get angry and lose my temper with you all those times before. There wasn't any call for it."

"No harm done," she shrugged. "Forget about it."

"Alright then. Fresh start. Still, I'm sorry... I promise I'll try harder in the future."

"Just do your best. That's all I ask of anyone." Shandra smiled at her. "What can you tell me about Ammon Jerro?" she asked. It was about time she started putting a little more effort into finding his Haven, she decided.

"Not much more than I've already told you. He was my grandfather. I heard he was a little eccentric, but harmless. He died a long time ago. My mother told me that he saw me a few times as a babe, but I was too young to remember. Mother said that he would cradle me and sing to me, and that I would... uh, well, pull his beard hairs out."

"Why would a 'harmless' wizard create a lethal Haven?" she mused.

"Well, I _thought_ it was just a story. You know, make believe? And wizards _do_ protect their towers. I thought she was just exaggerating. I mean, the whole 'inescapable deathtrap' and 'thousands of spiders from the abyss' thing... it was hard to take my mother seriously when she said things like that."

"Do you have any idea where his Haven might be?"

"I've been thinking about it, but I honestly have no idea where it is. I doubt it would help much anyway. And the whole idea of having to spill my blood to get in there... well, I'm not in any real hurry to find it either."

"Does it have to be Jerro Blood?"

"That's what my mother said. I wouldn't mind trying other people's blood first, if they want to volunteer. Maybe we could bleed Bishop, try it out first?"

"The way you're going, girl, I think we'll have more than enough of your blood when we find this Haven... if we ever do," said Bishop from his chair by the fire.

"His hearing's a little too sharp," said Shandra, lowering her voice. "Still, mother was pretty insistent on the blood part. And a whole pint of it... that's a little much."

"It was probably an exaggeration," Kail suggested.

"Yeah, probably."

"Ah, you're finished with your bath. Excellent. I have something for you," said Sand, approaching the table with his hands behind his back. She hadn't even seen him enter the room.

"What is it?"

He handed her a large rectangular object, wrapped in leather. She peeled back the wrapping to reveal a book, with a cover made out of... what appeared to be overlapping red scales. On the front was a symbol that she didn't recognise, and when she opened the book, the text covering the pages was equally unrecognisable.

"Here, you'll need this as well." He gave her a smaller book, entitled 'Translating Draconic Dialects'. She raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"It's been sat in the store room of my shop. I bought it a century or two ago from a traveller who claimed that it came from an enclave of Dragon Disciples. I tested the skin, and it's genuine dragon scale... probably from the corpse of a dragon that died of natural causes, since I doubt any Disciple would be foolish enough to kill a dragon themselves."

"Thank you. This must be extremely rare and valuable! What do I owe you for it?"

"Nothing at all. Consider it a gift. All I ask is that you put it to good use."

"Oh, I will. I'll start right away. And thank you!" He simply smiled at her, and slipped into a seat at the table beside Casavir and Elanee. Kail carried both books to a chair close to the fire, and opened the scale-bound book to the first page. She sat cross-legged, placed the book in her lap, and began scanning the second book for the corresponding symbols and their meanings. After some time of her muttering to herself, Grobnar brought her some paper and a quill, for which she absently thanked him.

Translation occurred slowly, because the Dialect book was so fascinating, that she spent more time studying that than the scale-bound book itself. When she at last looked up, there was only Casavir, Bishop, Khelgar and her Uncle left in the common room, and the fire was considerably lower than it had been before. Khelgar was snoring quite loudly with his head resting in his arms at the bar, and her Uncle looked thoroughly fed up.

"Are you finished, lass?" Duncan asked when he noticed her looking around. "I closed the tavern ages ago... even Fenton and Weasel have gone to bed. If you need anything now, you'll have to get it yourself, because unlike you, I need my beauty sleep."

"I'm sorry, Duncan," she said, feeling genuine guilt that she had kept him from his bed. Ever since she had arrived in Neverwinter, a stranger, he had treated her like long lost kin, even though she wasn't related to him by blood.

"Don't worry about it. But you should get some rest too, you know. You've had a hectic ten-day."

"I'm not tired yet... and these books are too interesting for me to put down."

"Alright. Well, sleep well, when you do eventually get back to your room." He took off his apron, hung it over the bar, and trudged wearily from the room for all the world as if he was the one who had just marched to Crossroad Keep, defeated Garius, and marched back, in only two days.

"I will be getting to bed now too," said Casavir. "And I will put Khelgar in his. If you have need of anything, my lady, you know where my room is."

"Thanks. I'll be fine," she assured him. Then she watched him pick up Khelgar and half-carry, half-drag him to the back rooms.

"That sounded like an invitation," said Bishop.

"He was just being polite. Some men are like that," she said with the sweetest smile she could muster, and turned back to her books.

"Ha. You've lived your life in a swamp, and now you're the voice of worldly experience when it comes to men?"

She sighed and closed the books. So much for the chance of more studying tonight. In the common room, at least. Perhaps she could get some reading done by candle light, in her room. But she wasn't quite ready to let his barb pass.

"So. Which part of the Mere are _you_ from?" she asked, giving him her most innocent look.

"What makes you think I come from any part of that soggy cesspool?"

"I was born in the Mere. I grew up in it. Do you think I could sit here and talk to somebody else who was born and raised in the Mere, and not even recognise it? Apart from Cormick, I haven't heard a Mere accent since I left West Harbor. Yours may be extremely faint, but it's there. At least to somebody who is trained to identify tone and inflection."

"You've obviously given this a lot of thought. I'm flattered," he said, leaning back and placing his arms behind his head. Karnwyr watched the exchange with one of his usual canine grins. She was sure he somehow understood every word of what was being said.

"Hardly. It was just something I noticed the first time I met you. I haven't given it a second of thought since then, and had you not brought up the subject just now, I wouldn't have thought about it ever again." That was a lie... a small one, perhaps. It was true that for quite some time she hadn't given any thought to it. But once Duncan had told her about her mother, about how she would often leave West Harbor for days at a time, and came back one day with child... she had wondered about who her father was. He could have been a travelling merchant, or he could have been somebody who worked in the Mere, or lived in it. He could even have been somebody from a druidic circle, although she doubted that, as Elanee would have mentioned it. Probably.

So she had tried to work out how she could possibly find out a little more about her father. Her real father. She had considered asking Elanee -- after all, the Elf knew more of the Mere than she, and she likely knew of other settlements within it. But she didn't want to raise Elanee's suspicions, she didn't want the druid poking around in her life any more than she already had. So she had considered asking Bishop, who was obviously from the Mere himself, and undoubtedly had knowledge of it that she did not. But since he had never mentioned the Mere, or home, she suspected he might be trying to keep it secret. Or at the very least, private. She hadn't been willing to intrude on that privacy, until now. Home was a touchy subject in their group; Shandra had lost hers, Neeshka had never truly had one, Khelgar had only just re-found his, Sand had been forced to flee from his, and Elanee was still searching for signs of hers.

"Whilst I count your uncharacteristic silence as a blessing, I still expect an answer," she told him. "After all, I answered_ your_ last question, if you recall."

"I also recall that I had to get you into my arms before you'd answer. I think your question at least warrants the same treatment."

He obviously expected her to reject his terms, to scoff at them, or be insulted. Instead, she stood, placed her books carefully on the chair, and held out her hands.

"What's the matter? Can't put your money where your mouth is?" she asked when he didn't move.

"No, I'm just trying to figure out if you'll be able to get a blade in my back from here," he said. Then he stood, took her arms, and wrapped his around her, just as he had when they'd danced following her victory celebration over Lorne. "Dancing is never the same, without music," he sighed.

"Well I'm not going to wake Grobnar just so you can have music. And now that you've failed to distract me with how clean you smell -- for once -- tell me your answer."

"Alright," he conceded, tightening his grip and pulling her closer to him. "You were right. I am from the Mere. But my home is no longer on any maps."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not there anymore."

"What happened to it?" She was infinitely thankful that she hadn't had anything to drink tonight. Her body was making highly inappropriate suggestions which her mind was doing its best to ignore.

"The Mere reclaimed it."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. The Mere is a treacherous place. Now, am I going to bed, or are you going to make me a better offer?

"You're going to bed."

"Shame. You feel tense. Here, and here," he said, running one hand down her neck to the top of her shoulder. "I can help you with that, if you like. Inflicting pain isn't the only thing I do... I can also take it away."

"You're a real Healer," she said sarcastically, shaking her hand free of his grip and stepping back to reclaim her books.

"Alright, suit yourself. But if you have need of anything, '_my lady'_, you know where my room is. And unlike the paladin, I'm not _just_ being polite."

As he left, she sank back into the seat with a shake of her head. She was fairly sure that he was bluffing, that if she actually turned up outside his room, he'd swear at her for waking him up, tell her that she was flattering herself, and insist she go back to her own room. But that was one challenge she wasn't going to accept. After all, she was only _fairly_ certain.

Still, tonight had been a victory, however small. And you had to take your victories where you could get them.

o - o - o - o - o

"That was the best night's sleep I've had in days. But I don't remember going to bed."

"You were probably too drunk to remember, Moss Breath."

Kail opened her eyes as Khelgar and Neeshka came into the common room. Sunlight was filtering through the windows of the Flagon. It seemed the storm had passed, and she had fallen asleep in her chair beside the fire.

"I can't believe you slept in that thing," said Neeshka, sinking down into the opposite chair. Kail rolled her shoulders, and felt knots in the muscles of her neck.

"This is doing nothing for my posture," she groaned.

"I've noticed that tall folk often have bad posture," said Khelgar. "I reckon it comes from spending too much time looking at the ground."

"For me, it comes from spending too much time sleeping in bad positions on chairs and on hard floors. And I was looking forward to sleeping in a real bed for once, too."

"Morning, folks," said Sal, stepping out of the kitchen. She hadn't even heard the man go _in_ there. He must have been extremely quiet, so as not to wake her... either that or he'd spent the entire night in there. Knowing Sal, that was a possibility.

"Morning, Sal," she replied. "What's for breakfast today?"

"Bacon, eggs, sausages, toast and fried tomatoes. Healthy stuff that every adventurer needs after foiling the schemes of evil wizards," he explained as he unlocked the front door and opened it to let fresh air in.

"Sounds great. Is anyone else up yet?"

"Elanee was up just after me. She's out back, sitting on that patch of grass that she likes so much. Meditating, I think. Bishop went out with that wolf of his not long after. Not sure where he's gone. Fenton and Weasel left too, I think on work-related business. Your Uncle's over in the market, catching up on gossip."

"Casavir's awake, but still in his room," said Neeshka, pulling her face.

"And how do you know that?" Kail grinned suggestively.

"His room is right next to mine, and I can hear him praying every morning and night. It's enough to drive a person crazy, I tell you."

"You think that's bad," said Khelgar, "You oughta try sleeping in the room next door to the Gnome. With his constant tinkering, and the sound of small explosions, it's a wonder I get any sleep at all! That's why I have t' drink so much, ye know. Sorta drink myself into a stupor so he doesn't keep me awake."

"Riiiight," said Kail, winking at Neeshka. The Tiefling giggled.

"Kail! Kail!" said Wolf, the leader of the children who lived in the Flagon's roof space, as he rushed in through the front door.

"Calm down, I'm here. What's up?"

"Captain Brelaina wants to see you in her office right away. Aldanon's with her... I think it's something to do with Crossroad Keep. A prisoner that they found there, or something!"

"Alright, run at tell Brelaina I'm on my way. Sal, can you keep breakfast on hold until we get back?"

"Right you are," he nodded.

As she stood, she rolled her shoulders again, slowly working the knots out of her muscles. Even her legs had cramps! That was the last time she was falling asleep in that damned chair.

"Should I go fetch everyone else, lass?" asked Khelgar.

"No," she smiled. "We'll go, just the three of us. It will be nice to get away from the crowd for a while."

o - o - o - o - o

The crowd, it seemed, objected to being away from Kail. Just outside the Flagon she was hailed by Sand as he left his shop. She stopped to wait for him, and thanked him again for the books he had given her.

"Please, don't mention it, it's my pleasure," he told her. Obviously her gratitude embarrassed him a little, so she let him change the subject. "Where are you off to now? More adventures?"

"We're going to see Captain Brelaina. Apparently, she and Aldanon have something to show me. Something from Crossroad Keep."

"Really? Do you mind if I come along? If Aldanon feels this merits _your_ attention, I am sure it is something worth seeing."

"Of course. We have to hurry, though. Sal's making a fry-up for when we get back, and I'm starving."

"Lead the way."

Even though the hour was still early, there was already a considerable crowd on the streets. Women strolled along carrying their baskets, children ran through the streets chasing each other, men strolled casually, greeting people that they knew. Some of the people called out greetings to Kail, wishing her blessings of good health and good fortune. She returned their gestures with equanimity, greeting those that she knew by name, and waving at others who waved to her. Luckily, nobody stopped her to ask for her autograph, which was something she had been told by Sand to expect, and was dreading.

They made it to Dolphin Bridge in good time, and crossed into the Merchant District. Here, the people were a little less open, a little more reserved. If the Docks District could be considered the lower class, and Blacklake the higher class, then the Merchant District was the middle class. The people here were careful not to offend their betters, but always aloof around those 'beneath' them.

In West Harbor, nobody had been above or below anybody else, and social class was something that Neeshka had had to explain to her. Though Georg was in charge of West Harbor, he didn't consider himself to be better than anybody else. He treated everybody, from her father, Brother Merring and Tarmas, right down to the children of the village, equally. In a small farming community, nobody put up with nonsense things such as airs and graces, which was why she had never had all that many friends there. The people of her village saw her as somewhat aloof, and because she was a private person, and didn't like to talk about herself, they thought that she thought she was better than some of them. Of course, not everybody had seen her that way. The Mossfelds were the worst, really, and even they had eventually given up teasing her and mocking her.

The Watch House stood tall and grim in front of her. Designed to hold prisoners, as well as function as a centre of command, the building always seemed militaristic to her. Still, its architects probably had their reasons for building it as they did. Putting the building out of mind, she climbed the steps and made her way through the corridors towards Brelain's study.

o - o - o - o - o

"Ahh, Kail," said Captain Brelaina when she caught sight of her. The Captain's eyes lit up, and some of the weariness seemed to wash away from her face. "Welcome. I was just speaking with Master Aldanon concerning one of the prisoners we recovered from Garius... a woman, but not of Neverwinter or Luskan... or even perhaps this plane of existence. The prisoner has asked for you personally. I was hoping you might be able to help us out concerning her identity - or her intentions. Aldanon has a theory, but I'm afraid..."

"If you both would simply _listen_," said Aldanon in exasperation. "The comparison to a rock, a big rock, is a simple one, almost perfect. This prisoner you have... it seems that she is of the same stone as the githyanki, but yet she is not. You see, both were once one people, at one time, even though time is a very difficult thing to measure depending on the Plane, and that's not counting time in the Astral Plane or on..."

"Forgive me, Aldanon," Brelaina sighed. She had obviously been at this for some time. "Is this prisoner a threat or not?"

"Oh, I don't know that. I _do_ know that the githzerai and githyanki have been in a state of war for millennia. It is common knowledge."

"Of course. An oversight on my part."

"So I should think that if your young lieutenant here... well met again, by the way, you seem to be everywhere... is hunted by the githyanki, then the githzerai, and this githzerai prisoner, would be allies, by default. But I could be mistaken. I suppose we could see if she tries to kill any of us, but that test has numerous procedural flaws in its execution... if you will pardon the semantics. She seemed reasonable enough when we spoke together in Crossroad Keep, but there was a foot of stone between us, which is notoriously hard for a blade to cut through to kill someone on the other side. And speaking of Crossroad Keep, I am rather anxious to return there -- so if you would both excuse me, I will set out there at once to see if we can dig anything out of the library there. Good day, and I hope the prisoner doesn't attempt to kill you. She didn't seem the type, but you know how assassins are."

"Despite the advice of Master Aldanon, I think it would be best if you simply spoke to the prisoner and let this matter sort itself out, without further speculation," said Brelaina.

"Did any of you understand what he meant by stones and rocks?" Kail asked. Neeshka shook her head.

"Sounds like nonsense to me, lass. And my folk are _very_ good with stone," said Khelgar.

"Aldanon was speaking metaphorically," said Sand. "As the Drow were once of the same kin as the rest of the Elves, it would seem this prisoner is of the same kin as the githyanki."

"Come with me, I'll open the door to the cells," said Brelaina. The Captain took a key from her pocket, and led the way through another corridor into the cells.

Inside the closest cell stood a woman, the likes of which Kail had never seen before in her life. As tall as a Human, yet as slender as an Elf, the woman stood complacently in the centre of the her prison. She was clothed in only a thin skirt and shirt, and a silk veil hung from her face, obscuring her features below her eyes. The eyes themselves were a bright yellow-white, and seemed to shine with an inner light. Superficially, the woman looked similar to the githyanki... and yet... not. Her features were softer, her skin a lighter shade of yellow-green, and she exuded an aura of calm and tranquility.

"I felt your presence before my eyes fell upon you... _Kalach-Cha_," said the woman. Her voice was soft but husky, though her speech was perfect. She obviously had a very good grasp of the language. "Step forward, let me look upon you."

Kail took a step forward, into a shaft of light that came down from the high window of the prison cells. She immediately wished that she hadn't; the light was harsh, and made her feel like she was being judged.

"They said you asked for me by name," she said, not knowing what else to say to this stranger.

"Your name... your name is not how I _know_ you. Know this name our enemies have draped upon you - this Kalach-Cha - its sound travels far, even reaching the ears of _my_ people. At first, my people thought our enemies had erred, that they did not _know_ that of which they speak. But here, now, as you stand in my presence, I see the truth. I did not think it possible, but the key by which you may know yourself lies within you. I know much of the problems that beset your people and mine -- the reason behind these attacks upon your heart and home. You will have no greater ally in this than I. In exchange for my aid, it is my will I be freed, so that I might travel with you and aid you against these enemies."

"Why do you wish to travel with me?" she asked in surprise. It was the last thing she had expected. In her mind, anybody who wanted to travel with her was _crazy_, and this woman didn't even know her!

"This cell is abhorrent to me. It is a shackle of stone encasing me. It causes memories of the ways of the Illithids to surface in my mind. I have borne this indignity because I knew that it would bring you to me - and a greater truth will be _known_."

"So let me get this right. In exchange for what you know, you only ask to travel with me? How do I know that I can trust you?"

"I heard you were here," said a familiar male voice from behind her. She groaned inwardly, and turned to face Sir Nevalle. He looked as shiny and knightly as ever in his clean uniform and polished boots. No doubt she, in her slept-in, creased plain clothes, made less of an impression. "You fought bravely, and we took them almost completely by surprise. You are to be commended, both for your efforts and for the lives spared this day. Had you not been there, we would have many less brave men standing with us today... along with what may be the key to taking this battle to our enemies."

"In freeing me, know that you have gained more than you ever would have torn from the lips and thoughts of our enemies," said the woman in the cell.

"Then speak," said Nevalle bluntly. "Aldanon does not think you are allied with these enemies... these githyanki. And his word carried weight with me - fortunately for you."

"Then know the trade between us is this... Release me from this prison, let my path become that of the Kalach-Cha. In return, I will grant you the _knowing_ of this threat, and all the darkness its shadow casts."

"We promise an honest hearing, and if your tale rings true, we will grant your freedom," said Nevalle. Kail rolled her eyes. Everything had to be trials and hearings in this city.

"Then listen to me, and _know_ this threat for what it is," said the woman. "But we cannot do it here, in this prison, where my words echo... and the shadows fall thick around us."

"And why should we allow your freedom until we hear what you have to say?" 'We', it seemed, was Sir Nevalle and Lord Nasher. Kail doubted that she'd even get a say in what happened to the woman.

"Because if you deny me that, then anything I can do to aid you will prove useless. I seek to _know_ this plane, this world that I am to help you save - and speak honestly to it, so that I might hear what strikes at its heart. And that means that I must see your lands, what you would spill blood for... what you _have_ spilled blood for."

"Then I know of just the place where you can see what we fight for," said Nevalle. Then he turned to her. "Make your way back to Crossroad Keep as soon as you are able. I shall meet you there." Then he strode from the room, his footsteps echoing down the dark corridor.

"Always a pleasure to deal with the Nine," said Captain Brelaina after Nevalle had left.

"Eight, now," said Kail.

"Ah yes, I heard about the death of Melia. A tragedy, as were all the deaths that occurred in the Moonstone Mask."

"I think Lord Nasher was concerned only about Melia. The deaths of the others did not seem to matter to him."

"Lord Nasher is a man with a lot on his mind," said Brelaina. "And now, I think I shall have to release our new... friend... into your custody." She unlocked the door of the cell, and the strange woman stepped out.

"So... what's your name?" Kail asked her.

"Zhjaeve. It is not how I am _known_ in my home, but it is the name that I have grown up with," the woman replied.

"Right. Well... I don't suppose you have any weapons, or a change of clothes, or any personal possessions that you'd like to bring with you?"

"Everything that I owned was taken by Garius. Such things are of little importance to me anyway."

"Trust me," said Neeshka. "When winter _really_ sets in, warmer clothes are going to be _really_ important to you."

"When the mind and body are one, even extreme cold can be tolerated," said Zhjaeve.

"Still," said Kail, "If you're going to be travelling with us to Crossroad Keep, I think we should go about getting you some supplies. A pack, food rations, a canteen, a cloak, a weapon... the usual stuff."

"As you think is best, Kalach-Cha. I am unfamiliar with the ways of your plane."

"Then we'll head to the markets and pick up everything we need for the trip. And please... call me Kail."

o - o - o - o - o

"I can't believe we have to go back to that Keep," said Khelgar. "We only just got back from there!"

"Nevalle sure likes making us run around for him," agreed Neeshka.

"Charming, isn't he?" quipped Sand.

"Well, if it's what we have to do, it's what we have to do," said Kail. She pushed open the door to the Flagon, and Zhjaeve followed her.

The smell of cooking food wafted alluringly from the kitchen, and the rest of her companions were already tucking into a healthy breakfast of fried, toasted and grilled things. Shandra and Grobnar were sat at one table with Elanee and Casavir, while Qara was eating at the bar. Bishop was eating his breakfast in his usual chair, dropping occasional scraps down to Karnwyr, which the wolf snapped out of the air with his powerful jaws. When she stepped across the room, everyone stared at her.

No. Everyone was staring at Zhjaeve, she realised. Qara was even open-mouthed, a fork-full of bacon halfway to her mouth. Shandra watched Zhjaeve warily, and Casavir's hand wavered over his weapon.

"Everyone, this is Zhjaeve," said Kail, gesturing at the woman who seemed perfectly calm in the face of hostility. "She was a prisoner of Garius, and she's going be travelling with us so that she can help us in our fight against the King of Shadows."

"She's a _githyanki_!" Shandra spluttered.

"No," said Zhjaeve, turning her gaze to the blonde-haired woman. "My people are the githzerai. We were once of the same kin as the githyanki, but we now oppose them and their violent ways."

"Oh. Well... sorry. I was kidnapped by the githyanki once. It's sort of stuck with me. I'm sorry I overreacted," said Shandra, blushing.

"No apology is necessary. It is a common mistake amongst people of this plane who are unfamiliar with the githyanki and the githzerai."

"Regardless," said Kail, "I suggest you all have second helpings of breakfast, because Nevalle wants us back at Crossroad Keep. I intend to set off after I've finished my food. Anybody who wants to stay behind, can. But for now, there's a plate of something dripping with fat just waiting for me in the kitchen."

o - o - o - o - o

The road to Crossroad Keep was muddy. The deluge of the previous day and a half had turned the soil to mud, and Kail was thankful that she'd remembered to pack another change of clothes for when she arrived there.

Zhjaeve seemed to be coping well with the trek. They had been walking since just before lunch time, and had made good progress in the past several hours. Soon it would be dark, and they would have to reach a well-known dry campsite before the sun set, or risk losing their footing in the dark and ending up mired in mud.

"How much have you told Zhjaeve?" asked Elanee, approaching Kail from behind. Everybody was spaced out along the path, with Shandra and Grobnar at the front of the column, and Casavir bringing up the rear.

"Told her about what?"

"About everything. The shards, the attack on West Harbor..."

"Oh, you mean have I divulged the secret of the shard in my _chest_? No, I haven't told her anything... yet. She seems to know an awful lot already, though. I suspect we'll talk more once we reach the Keep."

"I see."

"What's bothering you?" she asked the Elf with a sigh. Elanee was about as good as hiding her feelings as Qara was.

"Casavir was very worried when he discovered that you were gone this morning. As was I, of course," she added hastily.

"Look, Elanee. I appreciate everyone looking out for me. And I'm glad you were there to watch over me when I was younger, even if I didn't know you were there. But there's something you need to understand, and it's the same thing that Lucas needed to understand. I'm not a child anymore. I don't need to be watched, or guided, or shadowed. I need my space. I need to be able to go somewhere, alone if necessary, without a dozen people asking where I'm going and why. All I ask is that you respect my wishes, as I respected yours when you wanted to return to Skymirror alone. I don't want to be coddled anymore. Please pass that along to Casavir, and anybody else who panics when I am out of sight for more than five minutes."

"Very well. I am sorry... I didn't realise my concern was... stifling... you," said Elanee, bowing her head in acquiesce.

"It's alright. We've both had a lot on our minds recently. I'd love to hear a little more about the Mere, if you have time."

"Of course. What would you like to know?" asked Elanee. She always brightened up when talking about her favourite subject.

"Whereabouts is the grove... the Circle... in relation to West Harbor? Did you have to travel far to find me?"

"Yes, quite far, and along dark, dangerous paths. The Circle is at the heart of the Mere. West Harbor is near the outer edge. It was not an easy journey to make, which is why I rarely returned to the Circle, except when I was summoned."

"So... where did you live, while you were watching me?"

"In a cave, not far from your village. It was well hidden, and the beasts and the lizardmen did not mind me coming and going, as long as I did not upset their lives too much."

"What about other villages? Are there many, in the Mere? Did you ever watch people from villages other than West Harbor?" It was the best way she could think to covertly ask the druidess questions that she wanted answers to.

"Yes, there are other villages, but not many. No, I never visited them. I tried to avoid Human settlements, where possible. I only came to West Harbor to watch you. Had it not been for that, I would have been content to stay with the Circle, in the heart of the Mere."

"Do you know of any towns or villages that have been... reclaimed, by the Mere?"

"It is the fate of all settlements to be reclaimed by nature, whether they are hamlets or cities. They simply cannot survive against nature; a settlement will last only for as long as there are enough people within it to keep back the plants, the trees, the animals. But people tire, whereas nature does not. Where there is a compromise, cities will last longer. For example, the Elven city of Suldanessellar does not seek to control nature, to fight it, but to work with it in unison, and so it endured." She sighed. "But I can tell you are not interested in Elven cities. There are a great many former settlements within the Mere, that are simply no longer there. Even Illefarn could not survive it, once the city was abandoned."

"But what about villages? Are there any that have been reclaimed or lost in the past... say, twenty years or so?"

"Hmm," said Elanee, lost in thought for a moment. "Yes, one. Redfallow's Watch."

"What happened to it? Did the lizardmen destroy it?"

Elanee smiled. "Ah, so that's what you are worried about. No, the lizardmen will not attack West Harbor in force. Nor did they attack Redfallow's Watch. Nobody knows what actually happened there... all we know is that it was burnt to rubble. There were no survivors. The Elders of the Circle were not saddened when they heard about it. I do not think the people of that place respected the land, as the people of West Harbor do."

"I see... well... thanks. I hope we can get your Circle back for you. I hope we can keep West Harbor, and the rest of the Mere, from the fate of places like Illefarn, and Redfallow's Watch."

"So do I," said Elanee sadly. "So do I."

o - o - o - o - o

In the bright, midday sunlight, Crossroad Keep looked less imposing than it had previously. And there was something else that had changed about it; the courtyard was full of people. There were men wearing uniforms of the Neverwinter Greycloaks, there were builders and tradesmen, even an occasional merchant. As she was looking around, Sir Nevalle walked out of the Keep. When he spotted her with her friends, he made his way over.

"It's seen better days... and will again," he said, observing her as she observed the action. "This Keep was destroyed during the war with the King of Shadows. It was a dark time for Neverwinter, but we persevered, as you have recently."

"It looks like Crossroad Keep is being rebuilt," she said. He nodded.

"I have brought you back here under orders, Kail Farlong. For Lord Nasher has a new task for you. And perhaps our... guest can see what it is you'll be fighting for in the coming days. These people you see around you, they are now yours to command as you see fit. You are their Captain in Neverwinter's service. Make this Keep ready for war. Gather troops to your banner, and be prepared to strike when this enemy reveals itself. To help you manage the keep, Lord Nasher has assigned you an officer, Kana. And Master Veedle has been contracted to help you rebuild the Keep and the surrounding area. You are the master of this keep now. You have earned it through service and blood, and you have earned my trust... and that of Lord Nasher. This is your land. Defend it, for the sake of your people, and the sake of Neverwinter."

Speech over, he patted her on the shoulder, then sauntered off to speak to a builder. Kail was dumbfounded. This Keep. Hers. Her Keep. Her. A Captain. In charge of things. In charge of building, in charge of men, in charge of... everything. Surely she was dreaming this. It couldn't be real.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again," grinned Neeshka. "I love how people just walk up to you and give you stuff."


	56. Reconstruction

_56. Reconstruction_

"I think it is time for us to talk," said Zhjaeve. Kail nodded, and turned to address her friends.

"Everyone... make yourselves at home, I guess. Find a place to dump your packs, then see if you can find yourselves something to eat."

Everybody dispersed, in ones and twos, each going their separate ways wherever their whims took them. Kail took Zhjaeve up the steep ascent to the front door of the Keep, where she could better survey her land and her people.

_Her_ land and people! It was crazy. Nasher must be crazy. Maybe he had the Wailing Death again.

"Look, even now shadows fall upon this plane - yet still its beauty persists," said Zhjaeve. Kail followed her gaze past the courtyard and out into the surrounding fields. Low hills graced the horizon as the sun sank inexorably down to touch them. "It is not surprising to me that our enemies wish to mar this place with their blades and their war."

"I need to know what you know about this threat," she replied.

"Know this. The glimpses of this conflict you have seen are not the first. They are but glimpses of things that travel well into the past and the present. It is all part of a greater war, a war almost as great as the one that split my people on the sword of Gith long ago, and the tragedy is tied to such a blade. These shadows you see, there is a lord who dwells in darkness with them. And he has fought on this Plane before against those who have embraced Gith's hatred - the githyanki."

"Gith is the leader of the githyanki?"

"She was, before she went missing. This lord and the githyanki - it is difficult to know the true hatred between them. He attacked them long ago, attempted to cast his shadow upon their fortress in the planes beyond. The fighting was terrible, fierce, and it was only through the deaths of thousands of githyanki that this King of Shadows was driven back. But no matter how many countless thousands of their people they lost, they were only capable of severing the portal through which he could attack them... and so the githyanki were denied a victory, and forestalled their war for a time. But know that the githyanki do not forget their enemies. And though the King of Shadows had been driven back, still they sought a way to reach him... to kill him. And as terrible as knowing the followers of Gith hunt for you, even more dangerous is this Lord, this King of Shadows."

"Where is this King of Shadows? _What_ is he, and how do we stop him?"

"Know that I will aid you if I can, but it may already be too late. The King of Shadows was not always tied to darkness, and that is part of the tragedy. His will was once devoted to an ancient empire, to the protection of his people. He was once the light of Illefarn, empowered with the strength to protect them from their enemies... and he was bound to the natural magic of the plane, the Weave. But as much as a ritual created the guardian that was to be Shadow, there is a ritual that will unmake him. It is a Ritual of Purification, designed to allow him peace when his days of sacrifice are done and the empire needs him no longer."

"Or a fail-safe, in case something went wrong..." she mused. If _she_ was going to create somebody or something powerful enough to protect an empire, _she_ would have built a safeguard into it.

"If the ritual does exist, it lies within the ruined Illefarn city of Arvahn. It is there you must go to purify yourself and gain the strength for the battle ahead. I can show you the way."

"If that's what it takes, that's what I must do," she sighed.

"Know that this path is a dangerous one. Even the people of Illefarn, as powerful as they were, were unable to defeat the King of Shadows. But know that this Ritual of Purification... and the blade of our enemies... are the only chance of success in this."

"But what if I accidentally let him loose from wherever he is? I could make things even worse."

"He can already make his presence felt beyond his chains. The advantage is his. If you cannot strike at an enemy, know that your battle is already lost. You doubt me, and that is because you do now know me. You need allies Kalach-Cha, not more enemies and doubt to divide you. For in dividing the mind, you divide the battlefield, and you cut your strength in half."

"How can I know you? I don't even know myself," she said, only half in jest and not expecting a real answer.

"That is something I may be able to aid you with."

"Aid me? How?"

"I can teach you the ways of my people, the ways of the githzerai. I can help you to know yourself, to realise your strengths, and to strengthen your weaknesses. Know that I am a _Zerth_, and I swear upon the Circle of Zerthimon that what I speak to you I know to be true. And know that your life is as precious to me as it is the followers of Gith to end it. And this King of Shadows... know that he threatens us all. This title of Kalach-Cha, do you _know_ it? You wear that title because the name knows you, even if you do not know it yourself. But let my speak my thought plainly, without circles of meaning. They call you the shard-bearer, this Kalach-Cha, because you carry a piece of Gith's blade within you, near the heart. And you have always born it close to you. It was once said that Gith's blade, once drawn, would never find a scabbard again... and now it is sheathed within you. It sings, and they can hear it as I hear it, whispering all the hate of Gith and the war she sought to bring to the planes... a war that would have ended us all, if Zerthimon had not met her blade with his at the Pronouncement of Two Skies."

"Wait a second. The shard of the blade that is inside me... that was from Gith's sword? From the actual first ever githyanki blade, forged and carried by the leader of the githyanki people?"

"Yes."

"No wonder they spent so much effort on trying to reclaim the shards," she said.

"Know that you are the only one who can reforge Gith's blade and use it, once more, in a battle. A battle that will free your lands and people from an evil even greater than the evil the Illithid sought to bring upon my people. There is no other. And if the title of Kalach-Cha displeases you, the know that _you_ must make another title. And perhaps your name shall be the battle-cry by which this ancient enemy, this King of Shadows, shall be defeated."

"And you will travel with me, throughout all of this?"

"I make this pronouncement to you. Greater than the bond of Two Deaths As One, with a strength that echoes the Pronouncement of Two Skies. I make the Pronouncement of Three in Darkness, Two in Light. As the two of us shall meet this King of Shadows in his fortress, it shall become a battle of three. And when it is over, the two of us shall walk in the light, and you will taste true freedom - just as Gith and Zerthimon did when they broke the will of the Illithid at Sargrassa's End. It is my life I am giving you, Kalach-Cha, and I ask that you let me share your path with you."

"I don't know what most of that means, but it sounds deep. Like swearing upon the name of your God, or something."

"It is more than that. I swear to you upon my people, and their freedom."

"Thank you. Sometimes, it feels like everybody around me has their own agenda, their own reasons for wanting to travel with me. To have an ally who wants only to see my enemy destroyed... it is a precious gift that you offer me."

"Then we shall speak no more of it, now that my vow is spoken," said Zhjaeve, bowing her head. "Now we must travel to the ruins of the culture of Illefarn, and there, undergo the rituals you will need to arm your spirit against the King of Shadows."

"By 'now', you mean, 'as soon as I've had a decent meal, a good night's sleep, and spoken to my officers about rebuilding this Keep'... right?"

"Yes, Kalach-Cha. The ritual can wait for a day, or even several. But know that the longer you wait before making your move, the stronger the King of Shadows grows."

"I know. And I promise that we'll go soon to these ruins, this... Arvahn. I just need to set wheels in motion here first, I think."

o - o - o - o - o

Zhjaeve left her, with the excuse of 'wanting to get to know this place and its people better', and Kail decided to inspect her new Keep. She only hoped that all the Luskan bodies had been removed.

The inside of the building was much cleaner than she remembered. The main entrance hall seemed to have been restored somewhat; the cobwebs had been swept from the walls and tapestries hung in their place, the floor had been swept free of all the dust, the broken furniture and empty crates had been piled to one side for firewood, and a large wooden throne-like chair had been placed at the far end of the room, with a length of thin carpet running upto it. _I hope I'm not expected to sit in that thing_, she thought as two people approached her. One of them, the woman, bowed.

"Officer Kana reporting for duty, Captain," she said. "Lord Nasher has given you a great honour. But rebuilding these grounds will be a considerable undertaking."

"And one I look forward to," said the man. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Captain. I am Master Veedle. I won't lie to you, this Keep is in a sad state of affair. We will need all the resources you can bring to bear to fix her up. With the help of my crew, we can turn this place into a _true_ masterpiece of engineering.

"Master Veedle is excellent at his craft and capable of what he claims. If somewhat eccentric," said Kana, glancing sideways at the man. He ignored her comment.

"We've cleared the grounds, and I've given them a thorough inspection. As you can see there is much work to do. Work requires a certain amount of coin. My men and I need to be fed, after all. And the amount of material... it will not be cheap. There is good news, though. Sir Nevalle formally commissioned me to work on the project and Lord Nasher will fund part of it. But the other part is up to you. I will need gold to rebuild, but Nasher's coin will cover expenses... for a time. I live for my work, you see, but others don't."

"How much money did Lord Nasher give me?" Kail asked.

"I do not know the exact figure. Hmph, but not enough. People just don't appreciate how much good masonry costs. The missive," he said, handing her a piece of paper, "details how much gold Neverwinter has allocated for Crossroad Keep. You can use those funds, or your own, to work on several things - the Keep, the courtyard, the fortifications and the surrounding lands."

"How does the courtyard look? Apart from messy, I mean," she added, remembering the piles of rubble, the collection of tents, and the semi-derelic buildings.

"The courtyard itself doesn't need anything. But there are several buildings that will have to be built from scratch. You don't have to worry about rebuilding all of it - some accommodations will be built by people that come to live here. The inn, for example, is already operational. Naturally. But there are some buildings that could become shops, and those will need work."

"What needs work inside the Keep?"

"The Keep has been laid bare to the elements for decades. Many of the rooms are structurally unsound, don't you know? I've closed off many rooms until my men can work on it. Rubble will have to be cleared and stonework repaired in there. But it can be done."

"And the fortifications need...?"

"Extensive work, and it's also the most time-consuming to work on. The outer walls wouldn't hold out a kobold with a table knife right now. And the fortifications are what Lord Nasher cares most about. But when my men are working on that, we can't work on any other projects until we're done.

"Is there anything wrong with the surrounding land?"

"Nothing is wrong with it, it could just be so much more _right_. Crossroad Keep is atop a large hill, and the trail could be widened. Maybe even converted to cobblestone. And the roads nearby have no local lord to maintain them. Those could be improved, as well as the bridge and... well, a great deal can be done. Mostly that will help with trade, and that in turn will help with you... ahhhh... funding the rest of the projects the men and I would like to undertake. Rebuilding roads is simple but very labour intensive."

"And if I want to rebuild something, all I have to do is tell you, and you'll see to it?"

"Yes yes, of course. As long as I have enough money to purchase the raw materials and pay my men. Might I recommend doing some structural work on the Keep, first? So many of the rooms inside are closed off because they could collapse at any moment. No way for you to live, hmph."

"Yes. The Keep sounds like a good place to start."

"So many rooms closed. Technically they were standing before I got here, but they were extremely unstable, don't you know. They could fail at a moment's notice, sloppy. There are three sets f rooms that need more work. We can work on building you a personal suite, repairing and upgrading the library, or clearing out the west wing for other purposes."

"Hmm. I think the Library should be our first priority. Knowledge is power, after all. I'll live in the Suite in the state it's in now, and there's no point clearing out more space for other purposes until we actually _have_ other purposes."

"Very well. The Library it is! You were quite lucky it didn't collapse on top of you earlier, you know. This will also make Aldanon happy - he's been begging me to let him back in there. I have to go right now. I'll be back once the men have finished construction! So much to do, so much to do."

With that, Master Veedle hurried out of the Keep, practically bouncing with excitement. Kail smiled, and Kana bowed to her again.

"It is an honour to serve, Captain Kail. You have been rewarded greatly with this stronghold. Long have I waited for my blade to be in the service of someone worthy. My waiting is over."

"I'm not as worthy as you might think," she said dismissively. And it was true. All she had done was kill Lorne, and it wasn't something she was proud of. There was nothing honourable about killing... it was just something she had to do.

"You are too modest," said Kana. "We are the ship and you are the wind that moves us."

"Are you sure you're not a bard?"

"You jest, Captain. But my analogy is accurate. Regardless, there is much yet that needs to be done. Rebuilding the Keep itself Master Veedle can handle. But training the Greycloaks to defend its battlements is very important. Training a few men can be done quickly with the right teachers, but Sir Nevalle has promised half a hundred men for you shortly. And if the Keep grows, so will your retinue and your command. So we must start with the basics and turn these farmers and shepherds into fighting men."

"I'm sure some of my friends won't mind helping with that, when we're not away doing other things," she said, thinking to ask Casavir and Khelgar, and maybe even Shandra, to help some of the Greycloaks. Yes, she would definitely ask Shandra... it would make the woman happy to know that she could be of use, and in helping to train those when she was only newly trained herself. "Besides training, what else needs to be done?"

"There are a few families of farmers that will want protection from the local Keep, as they had in years past. This section of the High Road has also been plagued with bandits since Crossroad Keep fell to the King of Shadows long ago. We have been given the right to tithe merchants that come through. But until the road is made safe, any tithe collectors will find the road empty. Merchants prefer safer, longer roads, especially if they make more profit. But all of this relies on training your Greycloaks into capable soldiers."

"Anything else I should know about?"

"I will carry out your orders when you are away. Once the men are trained, there are more things they can do. As our numbers swell here I could use more able sergeants to oversee the men. I can train and assign tasks to sergeants if you find some for me. The decisions you make here may have a large impact on the 'Cloaks and the people on your land. After some time, I'm certain Lord Nasher will have direct orders for your men. But until then they are yours to command."

"Sergeants... yes. There is a woman named Katriona at Old Owl Well. I think she would make an excellent Sergeant." From what she had seen of the woman's fighting skills, back when she had met Casavir for the first time, the woman could _definitely_ teach the Greycloaks a thing or two. In fact, she was already working with the Greycloaks under Callum, helping to secure the Well.

"I will send a messenger to ask for her in your name," said Kana.

"Good. And would you send another to Port Llast? There is a miner there named Calindra. At least, I hope she's still there. She might have set off to Amn already. But I think she could help Master Veedle with procuring materials at a good price."

"I will see to it, Captain. Is there anything else than I can do?"

"No, not at the moment. Just concentrate on training the Greycloaks. After that... we'll see."

o - o - o - o - o

Stepping out of the Keep, Kail took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill her lungs, revitalising her body. The air here smelled and tasted different than that of the Mere, and Neverwinter. It was crisper, colder, somehow more... alive. Strange, that the King of Shadows would have chosen such a place as one of his strongholds.

The sun was already kissing the hills in the near distance, and long shadows were being cast from the walls and buildings of the Keep. But the shadows were not threatening. They were nothing more than what most shadows were; a transitional stage between light and dark.

Was that what the King of Shadows was? Not good, but not evil? Not light, but not entirely dark either? Zhjaeve had said that the King of Shadows was once the protector of Illefarn... yet Illefarn was gone, a ruined empire, its buildings, and its people, turned to dust. If the King of Shadows _had_ been its protector, then he had failed.

Her mind flickered back to the Moonstone Mask, to the man who had killed Melia. Was _he_ the King of Shadows? Or just another minion, as Garius had been? He obviously had power, to summon fiends and demons so easily... and wasn't it said that the King of Shadows had brought demons and devils to the battle against the Neverwinter forces at West Harbor?

But it didn't quite make sense. Garius, and the Shadow Priests, all dealt with death and undeath. They dealt with summoning shadows, raising zombies, ghouls and ghasts. If the King of Shadows dealt in the undead, why would be also deal in demons and devils? Was he branching out? Trying to create an army of undead monsters and demons? If so, why had he attacked the githyanki in their home Plane? Zhjaeve had made it quite clear that thousands of the githyanki had died trying to stop the King of Shadows. Why wouldn't he just make a deal with them, as he had with the demons and the undead?

Perhaps the githyanki had fought because, unlike undead, they had free will, the power to choose. The undead served and had no choice; they were bound by the necromantic arts to serve whomever raised them. But surely demons and devils had free will too? It was something she would have to ask Neeshka about. Everything seemed so complicated, and everywhere she turned seemed to be hidden daggers.

With a shake of her head, she walked down the path to the courtyard. There didn't seem much point in worrying over what she did not understand. In time, things would become clearer. Or not. But right now there was nothing she could do about it.

"Kail!" called a voice from nearby. She turned to see Elanee waving at her, and trotted over to the druid.

"What's up?"

"I was hoping you would grant me your permission for... for something that is important to me," said Elanee, showing the closest thing to nerves that Kail had ever seen from her.

"What is it?"

"This place," said the elf, gesturing around. Kail looked more closely at where they were stood. An arc of tall boulders stood inside the courtyard, with trees growing between them, sheltering in the spaces between the rocks. The ground was grassy, bright green despite the shadows being cast over it. "I would like to turn this area into a small grove, of sorts. A place where I can tend the plants, a place where nature will be welcome, where I can sit and meditate... and where the people who live here can come to relax, and be away from the pressure and expectations that Neverwinter heaps upon them."

"It sounds like a great idea," she replied. Elanee have her a big, grateful smile.

"I'm glad you think so. I believe that Khelgar and Neeshka were looking for you. They are in the Inn."

She left Elanee to her new grove, and made her way towards what was undoubtedly the Inn. It was the only building in the courtyard that was operational, the only one that had a sound roof and warm light spilling out from its windows. She could hear a flute playing inside, and recognised the player as Grobnar by the tune that was playing.

When she opened the door, she noticed Grobnar and Shandra sitting near the bar on stools. He was playing and she was listening with a dreamy, far-away look on her face. Khelgar and Neeshka were further down the bar, discussing something quietly. Bishop was lounging in a chair in front of the fire, but of everyone else, there was no sign. Then she saw who was stood behind the bar, and blinked in surprise.

"Sal?!"

"Good evening, Captain," he grinned.

"What are you doing here? How did you get here?"

"Well, I told you that I didn't wanna work for your uncle forever. Not that I'm not grateful to Duncan for everything that he's done to me. When I heard about this place, I thought the opportunity was too good to pass up."

"Yes, but how did you _get_ here? I only arrived a few hours ago myself."

"Ah, well, not long after you left, Sir Nevalle came by and said that there was an Inn needing tending. He'd gathered some Greycloaks who were on their way here, so me and the kids decided to tag along. We set off a couple of hours after you."

"Kids? You brought the children here?"

"They wanted to see more of the world. And I thought that the countryside might be a better place for them than the harsh life of a city. Plus, they're good kids. Said they'll run errands and messages for you as and when you need it. We -- that is to say, the Greycloaks -- brought some horses, too. Nevalle said we have to build up a bit of a cavalry. Even brought one for you, a gift from Lord Nasher. Big grey gelding, out in the stables at the back of the I... hey!"

The last comment was aimed at her back as she left the building. Lucas had taught her how to ride, and it was something they had done often together. Something she had fond memories of. And what better way to survey her land than to take a quick ride?

She found the stables at the back of the Inn, where most stables were usually located. There, she recognised the grey easily; he was the only one in the whole stable. Most of the other horses were brown, though there were two blacks, a white, and a piebald. The latter was a huge draught horse, probably more used to pulling a wagon load than carrying a rider. The blacks were obviously a matched pair, and the white had the look of a jumper about it. The other horses ranged in colour from palomino to brown, and in quality from nags to thoroughbreds. Her cavalry, it seemed, would be small and piecemeal.

Her own horse, however, was a fine specimen, no doubt from Nasher's own stable. He looked like the kind of horse that she had seen knights riding on; large, powerfully built, and eager. He snorted when he saw her, but let her enter his stable and brush him without a single threat.

"I don't know what you were called before," she said, and his ears flickered back as she spoke. "But now you're 'Wind'. And I want you to run like it."

She put down the brush and threw a blanket over the horse's back. Then she hoisted a saddle that was opposite his stall onto the blanket, and picked up his bridle from its hook.

"You can't go out now. It's almost dark, and there's probably bandits and all sorts out there," said Neeshka. She and the others had followed her out to the stables, and were stood watching her.

"My Keep, my horse, my lands. Besides, it's been too long since I last rode, and I want to get out, even if it's just for a few minutes, and see how things look out there." She lifted the bridle towards the Wind and he obligingly put his head down and took the bit. She had to hand it to Nasher; it was an extremely fine horse that he had given her.

Her fingers worked almost instinctively, fastening the throat lash and the chin strap. Then she led the horse out of the stable and into the courtyard. She lowered the stirrup, hoisted herself into the saddle, and spent a moment adjusting the stirrup lengths and tightening the girth. Then she trotted Wind towards the tall, open door in the wall.

"Don't worry about me," she called back to the others. "I'll be fine." When she had cleared the walls she kicked Wind forward, and crouched over his neck as the horse set off at a gallop.

o - o - o - o - o

Shandra watched the big grey horse set off at a gallop, and felt a twinge of worry. She didn't doubt that Kail was a good rider, and she seemed to know her way around a horse well enough, but as Neeshka had said, these lands were still wild, untamed. It was dangerous for Kail to be out there alone.

"Bah, horses," said Khelgar. "No dwarf was ever meant t' be that far off the ground. Our own legs are plenty good enough for us."

"Tell me about it," said Neeshka. "Plus, this tail does not go well with a saddle. I tried it once and was limping for days."

"I wonder if Lord Nasher has any ponies..." said Grobnar thoughtfully. "You see, I had this idea for a saddle that could mount a small projectile weapon that would..."

This was crazy! Kail had gone riding off, into the almost-darkness, and her so-called friends weren't worried about her in the slightest! They were just chatting away as if nothing were wrong! Well, Shandra Jerro was a better friend than that.

"I'm going after her," she announced, and hurried into the stable. On a whim, she picked the white horse -- it looked like the most placid animal available -- and began tacking it up.

"Er, I don't think that's such a good idea," said Neeshka.

"Why not? You think that Kail can ride in the dark, but I can't?"

"Nooo... I just think that if Kail had wanted company, she would have asked us if we wanted to go with her."

"Well... sometimes doing what's right isn't necessarily the same as doing what Kail wants."

"I'll go along too," said Bishop, entering the stall of a black horse. "After all, somebody has to keep the pair of you from breaking your necks, or being ambushed by bandits, or wolves, or trolls..."

"Gee thanks," she replied, struggling with her mare's bridle. "I feel _so_ much safer now."

Eventually she as able to get the bit of the bridle into the horse's mouth, and in only a few minutes she and Bishop were trotting their horses out of Crossroad Keep.

"I hope you can keep up," said Bishop, sending his horse forward to a gallop without any warning. She swore to herself, and encouraged her horse to follow. Not that it needed much encouragement; it seemed more than eager to follow Bishop's horse.

Though the light was fading, there was still enough to see by, and as her horse galloped along, she tried to take in as much of the view as possible. They raced past the farmhouses, which had been recently fixed up. The first time she had seen the houses, she had almost asked Kail if she could live in one, go back to being a farmer and tending the land. It was, after all, what she knew best.

But with everything that she had discovered since the githyanki kidnapped her... with everything she had learnt about the threat represented by the King of Shadows and his minions... she couldn't just go back to farming, and let Kail and her friends risk their lives to protect hers. She wanted to be a part of it, a part of the fight. Not because she wanted to be a hero, but because she wanted the world to be a safer place. She wanted to make sure that Ember didn't happen again. Maybe when the King of Shadows was nothing but a memory, maybe then she would go back to farming. But not now.

Bishop turned his horse sharply through a gap in the fence that lined the dirt track to the Keep. Now they were running through barren fields towards the hills on the horizon. How he was following Kail's trail at this speed was beyond her; the ground was nothing but a blur, and she couldn't even make out stones, much less tracks.

She watched him more closely as her horse began to close on his. He was an attractive man, though not in the same way that Casavir was attractive. The paladin had strong chiselled features, carved from stone, and a broad body that was compact and muscular. Not quite as compact as Khelgar, of course -- for his height, Khelgar was stronger even than Casavir -- but strong enough to shatter the skull of a demon with a blow from his hammer, which she had seen him do in Tavorick's mansion.

If Casavir's features could be said to be chiselled, then Bishop was rugged. He constantly looked like he hadn't shaved in two days, and his eyes had a disturbing way of glittering gold in certain light. Although his shoulders were broad and his arms were strong -- no doubt through years of using his bow -- he was leaner than the paladin, more supple. And he rode well. Crouched low over his horse's neck, his body relaxed, he seemed completely at ease. It was too bad his personality was rotten, that he was selfish, pig-headed, arrogant, self-centred... pretty much everything she disliked in a person. Still, Kail seemed to be able to put up with him, so she would too.

It wasn't long before Bishop began to slow his horse. Ahead of them, Kail was walking her horse, allowing the animal to catch his breath. She turned in her saddle when they cantered up to her.

"I thought I heard someone following me," she said, less upset at being disturbed than Neeshka had implied she might be.

"I don't see why you should be the one to have all the fun," said Bishop, bring his horse to walk beside her. Shandra did the same on the other side, giving Bishop a curious glance as she passed. That wasn't what he had said back at the stable. Kail merely shrugged.

"I'm glad you're here, Shandra. There was something I've been meaning to speak to you about."

"Oh?" she asked in surprise. People rarely said they were glad to see her.

"I was hoping that, whilst we're here, you'd be able to help train up the Greycloaks. It is is, most of them don't know which end of their weapons to hold. I'd like you, and Casavir and Khelgar, if you're all willing, to show them the ropes. You know, which end to hold and which end to stab with?"

"Do you really think I'm ready for that? I mean, it's not like I've been doing it very long myself..."

"You've been doing it long enough, and I've seen you fight. You're coming on fast, and I think that the Cloaks could benefit from your guidance."

"Well... sure. I'd love to. I'm glad that you think I'm doing well enough for that kind of responsibility," she said, genuinely flattered that the experienced bard thought that she was doing well.

"Good. Now, why don't we have a race back to the Keep? Wind is still getting warmed up, and I think there's a glass of ale and a bed with my name on it."


	57. Dreams

_57. Dreams_

_She stood atop the tallest tower of Crossroad Keep. The wind raged around her, trying to knock her from her perch, but she ignored it. On the horizon, heavy storm-clouds hung, moving inexorably towards her. She knew that, soon, the storm would be upon her. Yet the urge to sit and watch was overwhelming. It was easier than acting. It was so easy to just sit and wait, and she was so very, very tired._

_"You know what's coming," said Amie beside her._

_"No. I don't."_

_"Yes. You do. The land remembers. The trees, the soil, the stone of this place. The master of Crossroad Keep is coming back to reclaim it."_

_"I am the master of Crossroad Keep, now."_

_"Then act like it. Look." Amie pointed towards a chest that was on the ground far below them. The storm, she realised, was not coming for the Keep; it was coming for the box. "You need to get to it before the storm does. Take the shortest route." Amie pushed her from the top of the Keep._

_The ground came rushing towards her at a phenomenal speed. "Help me!" she cried as she spun downwards._

_"You're the only one who can help you," said Amie. She, too, was falling, right beside her._

_She seemed to fall forever, and yet she knew that the fall would eventually end. If she didn't learn to fly soon, she would die._

_At the thought of flight, she felt wings grow from her back. She spread her wings, and her descent slowed. Looking at Amie, she saw the she, too, had wings. Long, white wings, covered in feathers._

_"Now you're getting the hang of it," said Amie. "But you're not moving fast enough."_

_She looked towards the horizon, and noticed that the storm was much, much closer. Turning her gaze to the chest, she folded her wings behind her and sped towards the ground. The wind streamed past her. It seemed almost alive, and she realised that it was navigable, like a river. Faster and faster she fell, and the ground raised up to meet her. At the last moment she spread her wings, alighting as gently as a leaf touching the ground. Then she hurried towards the box and picked it up, keeping it safe from the storm in her grasp._

_"What's inside it?" she asked Amie._

_"Your destiny."_

_She dropped the box as if it was a poisonous viper, and the storm moved forward again._

_"No. I don't have a destiny. I'm not important!"_

_"Be important. Or you will die, and everybody that you know and care for will suffer."_

_Images flashed before her; Khelgar ripped to shreds by vampires, the Gauntlets of Ironfist dangling uselessly from his hands. Neeshka put in a cage where Shadows could touch her and drain her life force. Elanee, tainted and twisted by shadow, inside a grove of darkness and death, corrupting the animals and stealing their souls for her own consumption. Qara flayed alive over a fire, her skin worn by a shadow in a mockery of life. Grobnar forced to work on an army of constructs that were used to hunt down and kill people across the breadth of Faerûn. Casavir tortured to death and then brought back to un-life as an unthinking warrior of hatred and corruption. Shandra used as bait to trap people who tried to save her. Bishop forced to run, hunted down by armies of undead for sport. Sand made to use the Shadow Weave, until it blackened his heart and made him lust after power. Zhjaeve, put into a cell of shadows barely big enough to contain her, forced to endure solitude until the memories of her people's enslavement drove her mad._

_Everybody that she had ever known turned to worship the Shadow. Lord Nasher and the Nine became Dread Knights, in service to darkness. Duncan and Daeghun became servants, messengers of the enemy. Bevil, and the people of West Harbor, powered the Shadow's strength with their faith and their worship. _

_"Are you sure you won't change your mind?" asked Amie._

_Desperately, she reached for the chest, and clasped it to her body._

_"Do I have to open it? Isn't it enough that I hold it?"_

_"Then you will remain ignorant, unknowing."_

_"But what if I let out something much worse? I'm not ready to know my destiny yet."_

_"You must not only know it, but embrace it. Otherwise, the battle is already lost."_

_"I don't want to embrace it. I don't want anything to do with it. I want to make my own destiny."_

_"Your coin is about to land," said Amie, holding something out in her hand. It was a key. "Take it."_

_She did so, and as she took the key from Amie, the other woman disappeared. One minute she was there, and the next she had faded to nothingness. 'Move faster' came an echo of a whisper._

_She looked at the chest in her hands. She might die if she opened it... but she _would_ die if she didn't. So she placed the box on the ground and inserted the key into the lock. Taking a deep breath, she turned the key, and slowly lifted the lid. A blinding light spilled out of the chest, bathing her in whiteness and banishing shadow. And in that instant, she ceased to think._

o - o - o - o - o

_"My Lord," said the messenger, bowing low._

_"What news?" he asked, too impatient to deal with a formal greeting._

_"Dire news, my King. Two more clans have fallen, and the orcs are pressing toward our position."_

_"Is there any word from Neverwinter, or the elves?" he asked an aide by his side._

_"None, my Lord. It seems we're on own own, as usual. Like I told you before, you can't trust the humans or the elves to come running to help us. They just don't care. It's like Loudram all over again."_

_"They're not all like that. Not all of them. I knew some, once, who were good people. They would have come through for us," he insisted. The aide sighed._

_"Yes, Highness. I have heard of your glorious battle against this so-called 'King of Shadows' many times. We all know the songs and the lore. But that was a long, long time ago. The humans you knew from back then are dead, as are their children. They're such short-lived things, really."_

_"Bah! Ye don't know what ye're talking about! The Hero of Neverwinter can't die. She's just missing. Find her, and she'll see us right. Check at Crossroad Keep. She used to live there."_

_"Sire," said the aide, with the patience of one who had been through the conversation many times before, "Crossroad Keep no longer stands. It was besieged during the early years of the Orc Wars. You know that. You and several of our people helped to defend it, and were forced to flee once the defences were overwhelmed. Now the Keep is reduced to rubble, and the forest around it has burnt to ash."_

_"Yes... yes, I remember now," he said slowly. He did seem to recall something like that happening. It had been over a hundred and fifty years ago, when he had fewer white hairs than he did now, of course... so why did some part of him believe that the Keep still stood?_

_No, no. His wits must be at fault. He had been the King of his clan since he found the Hammer of Ironfist, a hundred years ago. Of course most of the people he had known from his youth were dead... he was the only one left._

_Elanee had fallen during the battle with the King of Shadows. Zhjaeve had returned to her people, and nobody had heard from her again. Casavir had governed Crossroad Keep, for a time... and his son had taken over when the paladin had grown too old. Neeshka had moved on to Waterdeep, and from there gotten herself caught and hung despite his attempted intervention. Qara had had all her power burnt out of her somehow... an accident, he'd heard it called. She'd spent the remainder of her years working at the Moonstone Mask, and died childless. Sand had been killed during the siege of Crossroad Keep by the orcs... he'd died holding the line, allowing everybody else time to escape. Bishop had wandered off after the battle, never to be seen again. Shandra had drowned whilst swimming in the sea. Grobnar had returned to Lantan, unable to come to terms with Shandra's death. And Kail herself... following the battle with the King of Shadows, it seemed that something had snapped inside her. She lost her appetite, stopped listening to her friends, became somewhat violent, and told Lord Nasher to shove his Keep in a rather inappropriate place. Then she had packed her bag and left, heading east. He had neither seen nor heard anything about her after that._

_"My Lord?" said his aide, bringing him back to the present. "What are your orders?"_

_"Orders? Well... send someone to check on Crossroad Keep. I'm sure it's still there. No harm in being sure, eh?"_

_The aide sighed again. "As you wish, Sire." And with that, he left._

_"Well, lad," he said to the messenger. "What do you think our chances are?"_

_"Err... me? I'm just a messenger, my Lord. I'm not a great warrior and tactician, like you."_

_"Still, I'd like yer opinion."_

_"Not good, my Lord. There are thousands of orcs heading towards the Clanhold. If we stay here, we will be overrun."_

_"Nonsense! Did I ever tell you of the time I got rid of two orc clans single-handed?"_

_"Err... no, Lord, but I've heard about it. I thought that others were there to help you though, Lord... err..."_

_"There may have been one or two others, but they were just there for opening locks and getting rid of traps. No, lad, I took them on single-handed. The Bone-Gnashers and the Eye-Gougers. Two of the strongest clans around Old Owl Well. Turned the tide of Neverwinter's fortunes, I did."_

_"Of course, Highness. But... err... I don't think there were as many orcs at Old Owl Well as there are coming here."_

_"Bah, there were more!"_

_"Sire," came a deep voice from across the room. The five eldest dwarves of the council entered the throne room, looking grave._

_"What's this, then?" he asked in confusion. "Ye've called a meeting without informing me first?"_

_"We no longer need to inform you. It is time to step down, Highness. You have ruled our people well for a long time, and though you are still sound of body, we believe that your judgment has become impaired with age. You no longer think clearly, many of your orders to not make sense, and you place our people at risk."_

_"What?! You're starting a mutiny, here? Now?! While we're in the middle of the war?"_

_"It's for the best," said another dwarf. "Please, hand over your crown, then we can perform the ritual to raise a new king."_

_"Never! I fought long and hard to get where I am today. I bled for our people more than once! If ye want to take this crown from me, ye'll have to take it off my cold, still head!"_

_"We don't want violence. We just want to protect our people, as you do."_

_"I see what ye want to do! Ye want to put some puppet on this throne, some dwarf who'll do yer bidding! Ye don't care about our people, ye just care about power! Well, ye've made a grave mistake, and now ye'll die for it. Fight, and die with honour, like a dwarf!"_

_He picked up the Hammer and rushed at the dwarves, not even noticing that they were unarmed. Each swing of the weapon cracked open a skull, until all that was left were corpses, unable to lift a finger. Then a movement caught his eye, and he turned with his weapon raised._

_"Oh, it's just ye, lad," he said to the messenger, who was deathly white and shaking where he stood. "Don't worry, I won't harm ye. Those traitors needed dealing with, but I know ye're loyal to me and the clan. Now, I have new orders. Assemble the generals on the front line, outside the Clanhold. We're going to make a stand. So long as one Ironfist lives, no orc will step foot in our hold."_

_The sun was setting as the army of dwarves lined up outside the Clanhold. One of the generals approached him, bowing._

_"With all respect, Sire, this is madness!" said the dwarf. "We can't expect to hold the lines. We should go back inside, and fight underground where we have the advantage of familiarity. It's where dwarves were meant to fight!"_

_"Nay. I'll not have a single orc set food in my Clanhold. Fighting here will give then men purpose and strength. Now, back to ye place. I hear orc trumpets on the horizon."_

_The general left, and all was silent. Even the birds had stopped singing, but whether that was a good sign or bad, he did not know. Eventually, the silence was broken by the loud blare of a trumpet. Before long, the sound of an army on the march could be heard. As the sun sank below the horizon, the orcs poured forth from the canyon, and were met by a line of dwarves._

_The battle raged on in the darkness, and the orcs kept coming. For every orc that fell, so did three dwarves. The enemy began to push forward, up the hill. When it reached him, he jumped into the battle, feeling the power of his clan flow through him as he swung the ancient hammer. Again and again he swung, each time knocking down orcs who never got up._

_They seemed to realise what they were up against, and, ignoring the few remaining dwarves, turned all of their attention on him. One of them brought down a scythe, slicing through his hand. He roared in pain, dropping the Hammer. As he bent to pick it up, a spear was shoved roughly through his belly, and the weight of orcs around him pushed him to the ground. On his way down he lost his crown, and hit his head on a rock._

_Content that he was down for good, the orcs pressed on through the dwarves. The last sight he saw, as the life drained from his body, was of orcs entering the Clanhold._

o - o - o - o - o

_With her pack on her back and a spring in her step, she made her way to the roadsign. She was grateful to the priests for teaching her to read, because now she knew that Neverwinter was only five miles to the west._

_She had heard many grand things about Neverwinter; it was a rich place, filled with nobles and merchants, wealth just ripe for the plucking, for one eager enough to pluck it. Of course, she had considered other places... Waterdeep, Baldurs Gate, Amn, even Kara-Tur. But the latter was very away. Farther than she was willing to walk. And Baldurs Gate was protected by the Flaming Fist... she didn't fancy having a run-in with those people. Amn wasn't a bad prospect, but the Shadow Thieves were gripping it like a vice... or so she'd overheard. She didn't fancy having a run-in with them, either, and joining them just didn't appeal to her whimsical, care-free nature._

_That left Waterdeep and Neverwinter. And since she had always had a sense of fun and adventure, she chose Neverwinter. Anything had to be better than the temple where she had been raised. Helmites were the most __**boring**__ priests ever. They were all about duty, and honour, and... Zzzz. Not that priests of other faiths were much better, in her experience... followers of Lathander were too into happiness and sunshine, Tyrrans were a little heavy on the justice thing, and Talassans were just too violent. Plus, the unhealthy attraction to lightning was highly unappealing._

_The journey so far had not been easy. Sometimes, by keeping her hood up, her face covered and her tail hidden, she had been able to do a little trading, and even a little 'opportunistic re-allocation of goods', as she liked to think of it. But most of the time, the sight of her raised at the very least stares of mistrust, and often a mob brandishing torches and pitchforks. So she kept her head down, and continued the walk to Neverwinter._

_The walls of the city loomed in front of her, and she joined on the back of a group of merchants who were making their way to the gate. By smiling and nodding along to what one of the merchants was saying, she managed to avoid suspicion from the guards. Content that she was safe, she drifted away from the merchants, and began drinking in the sights around her._

_She would have to find somebody to help her get her bearings... a child, perhaps, who was easily bribed. Until she knew her way around, she was vulnerable; a target. By chance, she came across an inn. The sign outside said 'The Moonstone Mask', and from the door came sounds of music and laughter. Well, it couldn't be too bad a place, since people seemed to be having a good time inside. Inn-keepers were always a good source of information... perhaps she could even find lodgings. _

_Inside, the Moonstone Mask was different from any tavern she had been in before. The women were clothed in low-cut dresses that would have had the priests suffocating with apoplexy. Some of the men were finely dressed, some less so. But it seemed a decent enough place... everybody was getting on amicably, and it was remarkably clean for a tavern. In good humour, she approached the woman behind the bar._

_"Hi. I was looking for lodgings for tonight. Do you have any rooms available?" she asked._

_The woman, wearing a long white dress and a pearl necklace big enough to __**buy**__ a tavern, stifled a grin as she looked her up and down._

_"I'm afraid that the Moonstone Mask is not... that sort... of Inn," she said in a smoky, rich voice. "All the rooms are taken, and you can only rent one by sharing."_

_"Oh, well that's alright, I don't mind bunking with someone. I've done it before, you know, in plenty of taverns on my way here."_

_"Ah, no, you do not understand. The Moonstone Mask sells privacy, entertainment and companionship."_

_"That's fine too. I've got tons of stories I can tell. I'm sure that whoever you put me in with will be entertained for hours. Plus, I'm good at keeping secrets, so privacy is not an issue."_

_"I'm sure. But that is not the sort of entertainment we sell. For those who are interested, my employees will tend to all of their bodily needs and desires."_

_"What, you mean like food and drink?" The woman sighed and shook her head._

_"Young lady, did your parents teach you nothing of physical intimacy? Did you never see the animals on farms mating?"_

_"Well... I don't know who my parents are. I was abandoned as a child and raised by priests of Helm in a temple. I've seen farms, but there isn't usually much to stea... I mean... haha... I'm not really into animals."_

_"That explains your naiveté, at least. Tell me, what is it that you have come to Neverwinter for?"_

_"Sightseeing," she said promptly. It was something she had come up with on her journey._

_"And do you have any skills, or talents, with which you intend to pay for your food, lodgings, etcetera?"_

_"No, but it is my hope that I can learn enough skills to make an honest living," she said by rote. It sure was a good idea coming up with all these answers to possible questions before-hand. The woman, however, merely tilted her head to examine her._

_"I do believe that you were raised by priests, for nobody in their right mind would claim to know nothing about love or intimacy. But I do not believe that you lack skills or intelligence. If I had to take a guess, I would say that you came to Neverwinter with high hopes of establishing yourself as a merchant or thief. Usually, both terms apply to each group."_

_"Aren't you a merchant?"_

_The woman smiled. "I am Ophala Cheldarstorn, proprietor of this fine establishment. You could say that I am a merchant, of sorts. You see these women around you?" She looked around, then nodded. "I take the coin of men, and in return, one of these women, who are in my employ, will spend the night in the arms of the man. Don't worry, I will explain that to you later. But for now, I have a proposition for you, if you would care to hear it."_

_"Okay. I'm all ears."_

_"I am owed money by several men who have run up large tabs over the years, for the services tendered here. They refuse to pay, claiming that they do not have enough money. As this is not a legally legitimate establishment, I cannot go to the Watch or the Lord and ask them to make these men pay. What I require is somebody to get my money, or failing that, goods of equal value to what is owed."_

_"What makes you think I'd be able to do that?"_

_"Please. I have seen thieves before. That, and the fact that you have a pick showing from your sleeve."_

_She hastily pushed the pick back up her sleeve, cursing her shoddy home-made gear for letting her down._

_"Fear not. I don't intend to inform the guards about you. But in return for you collecting the money that I am owed, I will provide you with lodging -- in your own room -- and food as it is required. Do you agree?"_

_"You have yourself a deal," she grinned, shaking Ophala's hand._

_She quickly learnt her way around the city. She learnt the guard patrol routes, which houses had stable tiles and which were likely to lead to a swift death by gravity. And as she learnt, she improved her skills. Soon she was going out two or three times a night, and it was after one such night that she returned to the Mask to find Ophala speaking with a visitor._

_"Ah, Neeshka," said Ophala as she entered the building. "This is Leldon. He is one of the men who used to frequent my establishment, and owed me a lot of money. Now, he finds himself the sudden victim of a theft, and he believes that you have something to do with that."_

_"Can't imagine why," she replied, tossing the bag of gold from her latest haul to Ophala._

_Leldon looked her up and down in a most inappropriate manner -- and by this time she had been working with Ophala long enough to know what that sort of look meant when a man gave it to you -- then sauntered over and offered his hand. She examined it for hidden poison stings, then shook it._

_"I have to hand it to you, that was a good job you pulled on me," he said. "I had my place locked and trapped. It must have taken you a long time to get in."_

_"Not half as long as you might think. Some of your traps were pretty outdated. I've seen better in Lord Gentry's estate."_

_"Is that so? Well, lucky that I've run into you, then. You see, I have a business proposition for you."_

_"Go on."_

_"I am a merchant..."_

_"Thief," she interrupted._

_"Yes. One of the better ones. Which is why I have not yet been caught. I also have a large network of eyes and ears in many estates, and the contacts to shift a considerable amount of goods. You know what a fence is, I suppose?"_

_"Of course," she said, lying through her teeth._

_"With my network, and your skills, we could have a very lucrative business operation. What do you say?"_

_"I dunno... I mean, Ophala's been so good to me, and she still needs my help..."_

_"But you're no longer finding her jobs a challenge. You aren't developing your skills as well as you could. I can tell, by your hesitation. But stick with me, and you'll eventually be known as the greatest thief in Neverwinter. I promise."_

_"Alright," she smiled. "It's a deal."_

o - o - o - o - o

_She stood in the centre of Eridith, facing an enraged bear. Not just a bear, but her friend, Kaleil. He had been the first to welcome her into the Circle, the first to show her the hidden ways of the Mere. And now he barely seemed to recognise her. Maddened by some unseen force, he charged at her._

_She dodged, refusing to draw her weapon. "Kaleil, it's me!" she cried. But the bear did not hear. He turned, and charged again._

_For hours they kept up the dance; him charging, she dodging, until she began to tire. "Kaleil, please don't make me fight you!" But again he charged, and she no longer had the energy to move. Instead of stepping aside, she cast a spell, and her friend's body was slowly turned to stone. He let out an agonised shriek as his internals organs petrified, and then he was silent, nothing more than a statue in the glade._

_"You killed him."_

_She spun at the sound of the voice, and the Elders of her Circle faced her. It was Elder Naevan who had spoken, and she faced him, ashamed._

_"Elder, I had no choice. It was either him or me."_

_"And so you chose you. How very like you. You always were selfish. Even as a child. And now you have killed one of your own to save yourself. Instead of sacrificing your life, you sacrificed his."_

_"No, Elder, it wasn't like that..." she began. But Naevan began to shift, taking on the form of a wolf. All of the Elders changed, taking on aspects of different animals; boar, bear, badger, wolf, cat, hawk... and, as one, they rushed towards her._

_Her weapon sang out as she struck at the Elders. Her blade found its mark in the heart of the badger. The hawk was shot out of the sky by a lightning bolt that flew from her hand. The boar found itself eaten alive by a plague of insects that she called forth from the Mere, the cat leapt at her, only to be skewered by her sword, and the bear was petrified, as Kaleil had been. Only she and the wolf were left._

_"Your senseless killing has not stopped with Kaleil," said the wolf, shifting back into the form of Naevan. "The Circle of the Mere is ended, and it is all because of you. Because you did not find us soon enough, we are gone. The Mere is now unprotected, and soon it shall fall into Shadow. The blame lies solely with you, Elanee. The child that you watched was unknowing, unaware. You should have seen the signs. You should have listened to the Mere. Because of you, the world is doomed."_

_"No!" she cried, and struck at the Elder with her sword. It pierced his heart, and he fell to the ground. She caught him as he hit the floor, gasping for breath that would not come. "I'm sorry," she said, tears spilling from her eyes down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry."_

_"It... is too late," he said. His eyes closed, and he moved no more. She cried as she had never cried before, her body shaking with her sobs. It was her fault, it was all her fault. She should have known sooner. She should have acted, instead of waiting and watching as she always had._

_A firm hand touched her shoulder, pulling her gently away from the cold body of Elder Naevan. Through teary eyes she saw a pale face, blue sparkling eyes beneath black hair._

_"It's not your fault," said Casavir, embracing her in his arms. She said nothing, merely cried more. She didn't deserve forgiveness. She didn't deserve anything except the same fate as that of her Circle. "Come with me," he said, picking her up in his strong arms so that she had no chance to refuse. In two of his long strides they were elsewhere; Crossroad Keep, she realised._

_"It's my fault," she said as he placed her down upon a bed. "Everything. The Mere, the Circle, the King of Shadows... it's all my fault. I could have stopped it, if only I had listened sooner."_

_"None of that. Not here, not tonight," he said, and kissed her softly. She was so shocked by the gesture that she did not even respond, and he pulled away. "It's time to forget the past," he said. "I want you to think of nothing but us tonight." He kissed her again, and she gave in to his wishes._

_The morning sun shone through the window of the Keep, warming her face. She opened her eyes slowly, and felt movement further down the bed. She looked down, and saw Casavir sat on the end of the bed, fastening his boots._

_"You're leaving?" she asked in alarm._

_"I have to," he said, nodding. "Kail needs me."_

_"But... I thought..." she stammered._

_"You thought what? Just because you failed in your duty, does not mean I will fail in mine. Today we face the King of Shadows, and I will be by Kail's side whether we live or die."_

_"Why do we have to face the King of Shadows? Why can't we just stay here, and be happy?" she asked, feeling tears form in her eyes._

_"You misunderstand. Only Kail and I are going. You, along with the others, must stay here to defend the Keep. It is the way it must be. And now, I have to leave. The King of Shadows is waiting for us, as we can't be late."_

_"Casavir!" she said as he left. But it was too late. The door closed behind him, leaving her alone in the room. Outside the window, a crow cackled in delight._

o - o - o - o - o

_Screams echoed around the corridors as she walked through the Academy, magic crackling from her fingertips. Whenever she came across a person... student, teacher, cleaner, it didn't matter... she let fire fly from her hand. Each and every target was incinerated, turned to nothing but ash. That was the price that they paid for mocking and ridiculing her!_

_"I won't let you do this," said a voice. She turned on the spot, and saw Kail stood behind her. Slowly, she smiled._

_"I've been looking forward to this for a long time," she said, and let the magic flow from her fingers. Kail raised her hands in a hopeless gesture of defeat, and was burnt like everybody else had been._

_"Well, I hope you're happy with yourself," said another voice behind her. "She was the only one capable of stopping the King of Shadows, and now you've ruined our chances entirely."_

_She turned again to find Sand further down the corridor. The elf had that same smug smile that he always wore, and she itched to wipe it from his face. _

_"Who needs her? I'll defeat the King of Shadows myself. I have more power in one had than she had in her entire body. And when I've killed the King of Shadows, I'll take his power for myself. Then nobody will be able to stand in my way."_

_"Nobody except me," said Sand, raising his hand to cast a spell._

_She blocked the spell with one of her own, and soon magical energy was crackling down the corridor in an unending stream. But instead of growing tired, she grew stronger and stronger. Before she realised what she was doing, or how she was doing it, the Academy was thrust upwards into the sky. There, in the clouds, with everybody below to watch, the battle continued to wage._

_Spell after spell was cast and deflected. For every move that she made, he countered it. And for every move that he made, she threw it back at him. The air around them was charged with raw magical energy, and she used it to power herself, becoming one with the Weave itself._

_Sand began to tire, and spell after spell hit him, weakening him further. When she sensed that his strength was almost depleted, she cast the petrify spell on him, and grinned in smug satisfaction as his body turned to stone, preserving the look of horror and shock on his face for eternity._

_"I think you can go in the gardens in my new palace," she told the statue, patting its shoulder. "I'd love to see you like this as often as possible."_

_"Excuse me," said a voice behind her. She turned, and saw a group of men and women looking somewhat frightened._

_"What do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?"_

_"We are the highest wizards from the Arcane Brotherhood," said one, pointing to some of his fellows._

_"And we are the most powerful of the Red Wizards of Thay," said another, including other red-clad wizards in his introduction._

_"And I am Khelben Blackstaff," said an old man._

_"Well? What do you want?"_

_"To pay homage to you, of course," said the Thayvian. "As the most powerful of wizards and sorcerers in Faerûn, it would be an honour for us to serve you."_

_"Well it's about time," she said._

_"If you would come with us, we will show you the palace that we have prepared for you. It is in what was formerly Neverwinter. We have levelled the city, and turned it into a grand haven, for you alone."_

_She allowed the mages to lead her towards her palace, a huge, glittering building of spires and archways. Walking down the corridors, she allowed the cool breeze to wash over her skin, refreshing her. Then she found the throne room._

_The chair was just the right size; it felt as if it had been made for her. Maybe it had. These people were powerful wizards, after all. They could probably make a chair without knowing her measurements._

_"Er... My lady?" said one of the Arcane Brotherhood, a man who dry-washed his hands nervously._

_"What is it?"_

_"Just the... ah... small matter of the King of Shadows."_

_"Oh, right. Him. Well, I suppose I can deal with him now. Where is he?"_

_"He is hiding within a ruined temple that is dedicated to Shadow. Shall we teleport you to him?"_

_"Yes, you better had. No sense in me doing it and wasting my power. Not that it would make much difference, of course," she yawned._

_"Haha... yes, of course," said the man. Then he and his companions began their incantation, and the world began to fade._

_Where she ended up was dark and smelled bad. Ancient runes were inscribed on the walls all around her, but she ignored them. Whatever they said was not important to her. _

_"Hello?" she called, when nothing happened. If those idiots had cast the spell wrong, she would flay them alive. "King of Shadows? Are you here?"_

_"Here I am," said a familiar voice. "I've been waiting for you."_

_A dark patch of shadow detached itself from the wall and began moving toward her. As it grew closer, the shadows faded away, leaving only a person._

_"Kail," she said, narrowing her eyes. "I should have known it was you."_

_"Yes. You should," said the bard. "You always claimed to know best, but after all this time, you never figured out that I was the King of Shadows all along."_

_"Nobody else did, either."_

_"True. I guess I am just too good an actor. I fooled all of you. All of you except Sand, that is."_

_"What?!"_

_"Do you really think that you killed me?" said a second shadow, approaching. It materialised into the elf. "Dear girl, that was merely an echo of my true self. And you fell for it." He and Kail laughed, a screeching laughter that hurt her ears and made her very, very angry._

_She lashed out with magic, expecting it to incinerate them on the spot. But Kail raised her hand, and the spell dissipated. It merely fell away! Again and again she cast her spells, and each time they never even reached their targets._

_"Oh dear, I think the poor girl is getting a little tired," said Sand at last. "Don't you think that we should put her out of her misery?"_

_"Quite," said Kail. The bard took out her sword and approached._

_She backed away, fervently casting every defensive spell she could conjure, but Kail ignored them all, walking on regardless of what was thrown at her. When the woman's hand grabbed her hair, she shrieked. But her cry was cut off as the bard slit her throat._

_It was strange, how it didn't hurt. Her lungs felt like they were on fire, but the cut itself didn't hurt. She sank to the ground with her hands desperately pressed against her throat, trying to keep the blood from spilling out. And Sand and Kail stood over her, grinning at their victory. It wasn't fair!_

o - o - o - o - o

_The crowd cheered wildly as he waved to them. Women of all ages and all races jumped up and down, screaming with excitement and throwing flowers at him. If this was what they were like before he even started playing, what were they going to be like after?_

_Slowly, he sat down on the chair in the centre of the stage. It was like flipping a switch. The cheering and the screaming stopped, replaced by an expectant hush that raised in volume to an excited murmur when he put his flute to his lips._

_The first notes brought more cheers, and then silence reigned as his music began to flow through the crowd. Even to his own ears, it sounded like honey. Like the sound of spring turning to summer. The sound of life proliferating._

_When he finally stopped, the crowd started cheering again. "Thank you, thank you. And now I would like to play you something from home. A little ballad called 'The Hills of Lantan'." He put down his flute and picked up his banjo, which was propped against his chair. Again, the hush, which his music filled. He felt each note tugging at the heart-strings of the audience, saw tears well in a few gnomish eyes._

_He hadn't been famous for long; it seemed to have happened overnight. One day he was playing ditties in a little inn somewhere, the next he was being asked to perform in front of the Lord's Alliance. It was quite a big task, for a small gnome, but he liked to think he had done well. Since then his days had been filled with endless concerts and shows. He was in demand everywhere from the Dales to Amn, and quite a few places he hadn't even heard of. But, strangely, he felt like he ought to be elsewhere, working on something more important..._

_"Stop!" The voice cut through the silence of the crowd, and he lost his place in the song. In the audience, a tall blonde-haired human woman was running towards the stage. It took him a moment to recognise her._

_"Shandra! How delightful! I haven't seen you in ages!"_

_"What are you doing? Don't you remember our mission?" she asked, taking him by the shoulders and looking into his eyes._

_"Mission? What mission?"_

_"We have to save Lord Nasher from the Wendersnaven. How could you have forgotten?"_

_"What? Wendersnaven? How do you know about them? And what's Lord Nasher got to do with them?"_

_"I don't have much time to explain," she said. "I'll give you the short version. When you became famous, the Wendersnaven got jealous and angry because you didn't sing songs about them anymore. So they created an army of constructs and kidnapped Lord Nasher. Unless you go to play for them, they're going to kill him!"_

_"Oh... well, nobody seems to have told me about that. Where was I when all of this was happening?"_

_"Don't you remember? You were building a construct of your own, to try to fight the Wendersnaven. Now come on, we need to go. They're waiting for us, and they're not happy."_

_He allowed Shandra to lead him off the stage, though the crowd was booing in a very angry fashion. He hoped he could make it up to them later... if he survived the Wendersnaven, of course._

_She led him down streets that seemed vaguely familiar, and eventually they came to the ruins of a small village. The buildings were burnt to ash, and bodies littered the ground. It seemed familiar, somehow. Like he'd been here before..._

_"What is this place?" he asked._

_"This is Ember. It's the first place the Wendersnaven destroyed after you angered them. I had a lot of good friends here," she said sadly._

_"Oh. I'm very sorry. I really didn't mean to anger them. I didn't know what I was doing."_

_"Not knowing is no excuse. But don't worry about that now. They've promised that if you play for them, they'll make everything right again. They'll restore Ember, and everybody who's died will live again, as if it never even happened."_

_"Well, okay... but why are the Wendersnaven here, in Ember?"_

_"We're not in Ember," she said. "We've in Neverwinter, outside Castle Never. Look."_

_He looked again and saw that she was right. Castle Never loomed in front of him, dark and shadow-filled. Golems patrolled its perimeter, and Shandra pressed him back against the wall, so that they remained unseen._

_"That's strange. I could have sworn that we were just in Ember."_

_"Ember? Where's that?" she asked, a puzzled expression on her face. "I've never heard of it."_

_"Riiight..." he said, wondering if she had hit her head. "Well, I suppose we better get on with it. If I don't play for the Wendersnaven, Lord Nasher doesn't stand a chance."_

_"Wenderwhat? Lord Nasher? What in the gods names are you talking about?"_

_"But... you said..."_

_"Look, I can see you're confused. I don't know what those Wenderthings are, or what Lord Nasher has to do with any of this, but we're here to save Ember."_

_"Ember?" he said, looking around. And, sure enough, he was in the village again. Only this time it wasn't burnt and ruined, it was whole, and its people waved at him as they passed. "I am thoroughly confused."_

_"Look! Here she comes! Stop her!" said Shandra, pointing to the distance. _

_He saw a woman approach. A human woman, though not a very tall one. She was dressed plainly, like a farmer, much like the people of this village were dressed. "Who is she?"_

_"She's the one who will destroy Ember. Quick, you have to kill her!"_

_"Well... alright," he said, and fired his crossbow at her. The bolt shot from the weapon, but stopped a foot away from her body. The woman laughed scornfully._

_"Do you think that simple weapons will stop me?" she asked. Then she raised her foot, slamming it back to the ground._

_The land began to crack, torn asunder. A huge split in the earth raced towards him, and he jumped to one side just in time. A scream from behind him told him that Shandra had not been so lucky, and he turned in time to see the woman dangling over the edge, clinging with her fingers to the precipice above her._

_"Take my hands!" he said, grabbing her wrists. She shook her head,_

_"No. It's too late for me. Go to Castle Never. Play for the Wendersnaven. Save Lord Nasher. Then none of this will have happened, and I'll live again."_

_"That doesn't make any sense!" he said desperately. "You keep changing your mind!"_

_Shandra dropped from the ledge with a scream, and he jumped into the dark chasm after her._

_"I'll save you, Shandra!" he cried._

o - o - o - o - o

_He looked down at the corpse on the ground. Just a few minutes ago, that man had been living, breathing, moving. And now he was dead. By his hand._

_"He's not getting any deader," said Sir Olwyn beside him. "Get back to keeping watch. Any more of them try to break through, I want them stopped by any means."_

_"Sir Olwyn..." he began hesitantly. _

_"What?"_

_"I've heard it said that House Karin struck the first blow against House Ander, by stealing their family's necklace. An heirloom, going back many generations."_

_"Maybe, maybe not. All you need to know is that House Ander is attacking House Karin, so our job is to defend Karin."_

_"It just seems a little... convenient, to me. House Karin is a vocal proponent of Lord Nasher, and House Ander has spoken out against him many times. Are we overlooking a potential crime on behalf of Karin, merely because they support Lord Nasher?"_

_Olwyn directed him by the shoulder away from the other paladins and knights._

_"Listen, lad." 'Lad'! Olwyn could not have been more than forty-five, a scant ten years older than himself! "That kind of talk is dangerous. To you and your continued service of Neverwinter. It doesn't matter if something was stolen, what matters is blood. Ander was the aggressor, the first to spill Karin's blood, so we defend Karin. And even if it was the other way around, we would still defend Karin if Lord Nasher told us to. He's our leader, and right or wrong, the choice is his. Just carry out your orders and don't ask any more questions. Got it?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Good. Now, back to your position. Ander isn't going to wait in the trees forever, mark my words. Sooner or later there'll be a charge, and I want everybody to be ready."_

_He returned to his fellow warriors and turned his attention to the trees. But he couldn't help shake the feeling that what he was doing was wrong. House Ander had first aired its grievances in court, to Lord Nasher directly. But Nasher had found in favour of Karin, which fervently denied the charge of theft._

_If that was the case, why was Ander risking lives, the lives of its family, to attack Karin? It just didn't make sense. Ander was wealthier than Karin, had more lands. So it couldn't be a financial motivation. The only conclusion he could come to was that Ander was trying to seek vengeance for something. Something like the theft of a valuable heirloom._

_"Movement!" called one of the knights. And, sure enough, enemy cavalry poured from the trees._

_He grabbed his pike, fixing the butt of it into the ground, and leaning his weight against it. His body shuddered when a horse ran onto the pike, its rider, not experienced enough to avoid pikes, thrown to the ground behind him._

_Releasing the pike, which was lodged in the chest of the screaming horse, he picked up his hammer and advanced on the downed rider. The man's helmet had come off, his face pale and frightened. It was then that he realised this enemy was no man, but a mere boy, barely old enough to begin training with a sword. Ander, it seemed, was getting desperate._

_"Please don't kill me," the boy whispered in terror. "I don't want to die."_

_He stopped his advance, hesitating. Killing a mere child was not honourable, regardless of what Sir Olwyn or Lord Nasher said. He was no murderer, to kill children and unarmed, inexperienced men._

_"Leave here, and do not return," he said quietly. The boy scrambled to his feet and ran towards the river -- away from both forces. That was smart. Ander's soldiers would probably consider the boy a traitor, now. But the boy had his life, and that was something that all children deserved. _

_"What in the Hells was that?" barked Olwyn, striding upto him._

_"I will not kill children. That boy had done nothing except be coerced by Ander into picking up a sword and getting on a horse. He was a victim, not a soldier."_

_"He was also wearing the enemy's colours. That makes him an enemy. What do you think Ander will do when that boy gets back and reports that we aren't willing to kill anybody young enough to have bare cheeks? They'll equip all their boys and young men and send them sauntering in here, breezing right past us to kill Lord Karin. Now, I suggest you get back to the house and wait there with the grooms and the foot soldiers. You don't seem willing to fight today."_

_He left Sir Olwyn and returned to Karin's manor, the words of the Knight weighing heavily on his heart. Instead of rejoining the grooms, however, he entered the manor itself, requesting an audience with Lord and Lady Karin. After some time, the butler admitted him to the drawing room, where Lady Karin was seated, and Lord Karin paced in front of the fire._

_"Ah, I suppose you bring a message from Sir Olwyn?" said Lord Karin without introduction. "Come to tell us of a great victory, hopefully, eh!"_

_"No message, Lord," he said. Karin frowned._

_"Then why bother us with a request for an audience? Surely you've not come merely to gawk at your betters?"_

_"No. I have come to ask you to return Lord Ander's heirloom."_

_"Eh? What makes you think we have that? Lord Nasher found us innocent, you know!"_

_"I know that he found you innocent, but I do not believe that you __**are**__ innocent. House Ander is sending young men, mere children, to attack this place. What will come next? The women? Girls? You have children of your own, do you not? Can't you understand how desperate Ander is to have his property back? I beg of you to stop any further bloodshed."_

_"If you want to stop the bloodshed, go and tell that old fool Ander to stop throwing his peoples' lives away on your weapons. I've no blood on my hands. I'm not the one fighting them. You are."_

_"But if I and the other knights leave, you will be forced to fight them. We are risking our lives to protect you and your wife and children, and you won't even lift a blade to help. There is a name for people like you: coward."_

_"Why, I'll... I'll... have your head for this!" said Lord Karin, going purple with anger. Lady Karin reached up to place her hand on his arm._

_"Davin... please, this has gone on long enough. Give this knight what he wants, and let the conflict be ended. I do not wish to lay in bed at night and think of children being sacrificed for the honour of Ander."_

_"But... but..."_

_"Please. I do not wish our children to know of the bloodshed that we have caused. What will we tell them, when they are old enough to understand?"_

_"Alright," said Lord Karin with a sigh. "I suppose I wouldn't have been able to sell it anyway." He walked to a book case, withdrew a book, opened it up and took out a necklace from within a hollowed-out space in its pages. "There you go. And thank you for your assistance. You may take your horses and grooms, and leave."_

_He took the necklace from the man and strode from the room before his fury could overwhelm him. Knights had been risking their lives, men of House Ander had died, and all because this pompous Lord thought of it all as a game. It was all he could do not to hit the man._

_But worse, Ander had been right along. The return of their necklace would not bring back their dead. Karin had been thieves from the beginning, and Lord Nasher knew it._

o - o - o - o - o

_The sun shone in her eyes as she hoed the field. It was hard work, but she was used to it. Since her mother had died from marsh fever three years ago, she had been tending the farm herself. And under her tender care, it was thriving. Every season had been a good one, every harvest bringing in a bountiful crop which she sold in Port Llast for enough money to last her a whole year._

_A pained cry came from the forest, on the outskirts of her farm, and she looked up in surprise. That cry had sounded almost human! Who could it be? Very few people ever came up here. Usually she went down into the village whenever she needed something. Cautiously, and still gripping her hoe, she made her way into the forest._

_Some way in she found the source of the cry. A man was lying against a tree, gasping in pain. His leg was torn and bloody, and there was a bleeding gash along the side of his head. She hurried forward and took a rag from her pocket, tying it around the man's leg to help stem the flow of blood._

_"Try not to move," she said. The man, delirious with either pain or the blow to his head, merely nodded._

_Confident that he wasn't going to bleed to death, she ran back to her house for some poles, rope, and canvas sacking that she used to transport her crops each harvest. When she got back to the man she found him unconscious, which was for the best as it made moving him easier. She tied the canvas to the poles with the rope, and managed to hoist the man onto it. Then she set out with her make-shift stretcher, back to her farm._

_Though she was no expert healer, she had been around animals long enough to pick up a thing or two about anatomy. She knew that the man's leg was not broken, though his muscle seemed damage. The wound, along with the one on his head, bled profusely, so the first thing that she did when she got him back to her farm was to give him water to drink. Then she turned her attention to his leg._

_The leg itself was damaged around the calf, with wounds that she had never seen the like of before. It was almost as if somebody had pushed a pole into his leg, leaving a round entry and exit wound. She pressed against the leg until the bleeding slowed, and then wrapped bandages around it tight enough to prevent much more bleeding, but loosely enough to allow blood to flow. She did not want him to get gangrene and lose his leg through her own negligence._

_Then she turned her attention to his head wound. It was fairly shallow, and judging by the bark around his scalp, he had most likely hit his head against a tree. Probably fallen against it when his leg was hurt, she decided. That too she cleaned and bandaged, and when her work was done she prepared willowbark tea for when the man awoke._

_She studied his clothes as he slept. They were fairly nondescript, a typical labourer's trousers and shirt. But his boots were far better than a worker's boots. They were thick soled, and looked like they'd already lasted him a good long time. The man groaned, and she hurried over to him with the tea._

_"Don't worry, you're safe now," she said, as soothingly as possible. She held the cup to his lips and he coughed a little as he swallowed the liquid. She hoped that the analgesic effects would work quickly. He seemed to be in a great deal of pain._

_"Thank you," he said at last._

_"No need to thank me. What happened to you out there?"_

_"I was hunting a boar piglet and didn't see its mother. Pretty stupid of me, really. She gored me with her tusk... I'm lucky that's all she did. The next thing I remember is waking up here. Wherever 'here' is."_

_"Here is my farm," she said with a smile. "You're not far from Highcliff."_

_"Ahh. Then I guess I missed the next boat to the open sea."_

_"Yeah... and I don't think you'll be going anywhere until your leg's mended. It's okay for the moment, but in the morning I want to go to the village and fetch Elder Mayne back with me. He's tended injuries before."_

_"No priest?" the man asked in surprise._

_"Highcliff is a small village," she said apologetically. "No temple, no priests. Sometimes a wandering priest comes our way, but the nearest one from here is in Fort Locke, a couple of day's fast walk south."_

_"Then I'll have to put myself in your hands for now, and trust that your tender ministrations are enough."_

_She blushed a little at his compliment. "What's your name?" she asked._

_"Sorry, I apologise. I should have introduced myself earlier. My name's Toran."_

_Toran stayed with her while his leg healed, and then insisted on staying on another season to help her with her crops. 'In payment of your care', he said. And as the days passed, she found herself caring more and more about the man. And the more she learnt about him, the more she cared._

_He was a soldier, disillusioned with the armies he had served for. He had been making his way to Highcliff to try his hand at sailing. A more rewarding and honourable trade than killing people, as he put it. But now his injured leg would prevent him from working on any ship for a good long time. So when she asked him to stay on at the farm for longer, he agreed. And in time, they grew closer, became more than friends, and talked about marriage. Then, one day, he returned from Highcliff with news._

_"They say there's going to be a war between Neverwinter and Luskan. They're putting out a call for soldiers to fight in Neverwinter's service."_

_"You're not thinking of leaving, are you?!" she asked worriedly._

_"If it was any other place, no. But Neverwinter isn't so far away... I could be there and back in no time. And it will help keep you safe. Plus, Neverwinter pays soldiers excellent rates. In one season I could earn five or six times what you would earn in a single year. Think of what we could do with that money! We could buy a house somewhere, set ourselves up for the future."_

_"But I already have a house. I don't want to leave my farm. I'm happy here."_

_"Then we could build a bigger farm. A manor! And buy more land, and more animals, and hire labourers to help with the crop. We'd have more time to ourselves, and we'd be more successful farmers too. I just want the best for you. I want you to have the things you deserve."_

_"I know. But all I want is you. Everything else is just trimmings. It's not what matters to me."_

_"Just give me a chance. I know I can make a difference, to us and to Neverwinter. And I promise, the instant I get back, we will be married. Anywhere that you like. Then we'll be able to spend the rest of our lives together."_

_"But what if you don't come back?" she said, feeling tears spilling down her cheeks._

_"It's not like I haven't fought in wars before. I know how to stay alive. I promise I'll come back to you. I won't leave you."_

_She agreed, and he left the next day, wearing the same boots that she had found him in. A soldier's boots._

_For a season she waited for word from him. One season became two, then three and four. She heard news from Highcliff that the war was over. Neverwinter had been victorious. But still she heard no word from Toran._

_Then, one day, a messenger came from the city of Neverwinter. He gave her a letter with a sympathetic glance, and then left as she clutched the envelope in her hands. Without thinking, without feeling, she closed the door, walked to a chair by the fire, and sat down. But she did not open the letter. She already knew what it said. The man who she loved was not coming back. He had broken his promise to her._

o - o - o - o - o

_The smell of burning flesh permeated the air, the acrid smoke stinging his eyes, making it hard for him to see. People screamed all around; women screaming for their husbands, children screaming for their mothers, babies screaming as the raging fires melted the flesh of their frail bodies. The smell of burning flesh and wood char made his stomach turn, made him want to retch, but he suppressed the urge to empty his stomach as he took refuge in the lee of a burning barn. He had tried to warn them._

_The arrow in his thigh hurt terribly, and he broke the shaft above the entry point, crying out in pain as the head of the arrow tore further into his muscle. It didn't matter. His ambush had worked. The Luskan assassins -- his overseers -- hadn't seen it coming. Hadn't seen his trap until it was too late. And now they too screamed as the fires consumed them. Their screams echoed those of the dying townspeople. He had tried to warn them._

_There was a blur of motion at the corner of his eye, and he raised his bow, arrow nocked; but too late. The surviving assassin shot first, and the Luskan's arrow hit him square in the chest, just above his heart. As the wood tore through his armour, his skin, his muscles, as the shaft was stopped by his ribs, he let his own arrow loose, and before he toppled to the ground he saw his arrow pierce the Luskan's throat. He hadn't seen that one._

_His body felt like it was burning. The arrow in his leg was dull pain compared to the agonising, searing shaft that moved in his chest whenever he drew a breath. As the screams around him finally ceased, and his vision started to blur, he tried to cease his own breaths. Breathing hurt too much. Life was pain. It always had been, and it always would be. But now something else beckoned him; a cessation, of pain, of struggle, of conflict. Ahead of him lay death. Freedom._

_He would die. In death he would be free. He could not be caged. Would not be. Nobody would ever have expectations of him ever again. Nobody would ever order him to kill. Nobody would ever order him to do things against his will. His 'family', his 'mentor', his Luskan 'friends'... they were gone, and those that lived still could not follow where he was going. His vision darkened further, and the chains of life, the ties and bindings, the strings on which he danced, fell away from him. He felt as if he was floating endlessly in the sky. Floating, he moved towards freedom._

_Then, suddenly, something changed. He was no longer floating towards freedom. He was falling, hard and fast towards the ground! He fell, the wind whipping past him at a phenomenal speed, and as he fell he felt the chains of life encircle him once again, binding him to the world. To the life that he didn't want. To the body that was too painful to live in. To the person that he didn't want to be._

_"Hey now, lie still. I'm trying to help you, and you're not making it any easier." The voice was light, almost jovial. He opened his eyes. Above him was a man, his sylvan features partially obscured by the smoke of the burning town. He tried to move again, to struggle, to get away from the man, but it was useless. He had lost too much blood. He was too weak. He was at the mercy of the stranger, and he didn't even have enough strength to reach for his dagger to stab the man. So he closed his eyes, and tried to die._

_"Drink this," said a woman. His eyes flew open, and where there had been a half-elven man above him, there was now a young human woman. Her grey-blue eyes sparkled against the blackness of the starless night sky, and she held a vial to his lips. He tried to move his head away but she put her hand beneath his chin, holding his head in place as she slowly poured the contents of the vial into his mouth. He coughed as the liquid trickled down his throat, but not because of the liquid itself. Her hand, where it touched his skin, felt like ice. Her touch was freezing cold, searing him; or was it that he was burning up?_

_"That's a pain-killer. I don't want to use any real healing potions on you until I've seen how many of these arrows you've collected." He tried to speak, to tell her to go away, to let him die, but he could not force the air out of his lungs to power the words. Nor could he muster the energy to reach his dagger, to kill her. All he could do was lie there as she folded up her cloak and placed it behind his head to make him more comfortable._

_"You'll have to bear with me on this. I'm going to cut through your shirt so I can get a better look at the arrow in your chest." He knew what she was doing. She was explaining her actions because she thought he was frightened. She thought he was afraid. She thought he needed... __**comforting**__. Stupid girl. Those sorts of assumptions would be the death of her. If he lived through this, he would make sure of it. And then he forgot about thinking as the girl cut through his shirt. The fabric pulled slightly on the arrow, and he cried out in pain._

_"I'm really trying my best not to hurt you, but it would be easier if you kept still." The words were... wrong. They didn't sound like they belonged to the woman's voice. But... she was saying them. Hadn't they been said by somebody else, some other time, long ago? It was hard to remember. He gasped, feeling an icy touch on his bare chest. Her fingers tracked erratically over his skin, and he knew that she was tracing over old scars. Old lessons, courtesy of his Luskan teachers. He heard her inhale deeply, but what that meant he did not know. Then he felt another vial held to his lips._

_"Drink this." He did so slowly, one sip at a time. It tasted sweet, like honey. Honey was often used to mask something less palatable. Maybe it was poison. Maybe she had decided that his injuries were too grave, too serious. Maybe she was going to grant him a mercifully swift death. He hoped so. The irony was that he could've told her which was the best poison to use, the least painful, the swiftest to act... if only he could summon the strength to speak._

_"I'm going to cut the arrow out of you, but I can't do that while you're awake. That liquid will put you into a deep sleep. You won't feel a thing. Well, probably not." He tried to turn his head, to spit out the liquid -- he didn't want to be saved! -- but she clamped her icy-cold hand over his mouth until he was forced to swallow. Then his vision began to darken, and the world fell away once again._

_When his eyes fluttered open, it was to a stone roof some way above his head. Fire-shadows danced across the grey rock, bathing the ceiling in an orange light. He felt hard ground beneath him, and small rocks digging into his back through his shirt. If this was the Hells, it was only marginally more comfortable than he would've expected._

_"Well I'm no healer, but I'd say you're going to live. You're tougher than I gave you credit for." He lifted his head slightly, noting in passing that his shoulder wasn't as painful now, and saw the woman watching him from the other side of the cave. The same shadows that played across the ceiling danced across her face, and the flames reflected in her eyes. "I'm sorry I couldn't make you more comfortable, but I only had one blanket."_

_He pulled back the blanket that covered him to examine the wound on his leg; he had been stripped to his breeches, which were stained red and stiff with dried blood. His skin, too, was patched red, and though the arrow hole in his thigh was now gone, the wound on his chest was not completely healed. A bandage, heavy with blood, was loosely tied over it, and as he tried to sit up he felt more blood drip from his chest._

_"I'd stop moving if I were you. I don't have any more healing potions, and you've already lost more blood than I would've thought you had in you." Heeding the voice, though not wishing to make it seem like he was obeying an order, he slowly lowered his head back to the ground. It rested against something soft - probably her cloak, still. "I wanted to clean you up, but after seeing the state of the 'water' around here, I decided that exposing an open wound to it would only kill you. Do you have a name?" He ignored her, focusing on the ceiling. "Hmm, if you don't talk, that means I get to name you myself. Let's see... you could be... Elandi. That means 'arrow' in elvish, you know. As in, what you were collecting in your body. Or perhaps... Maskan. That's fire, which probably would have killed you if the arrow hadn't. You're lucky I was passing through, by the way. I don't normally come out to these parts, but I was visiting kin, you could say."_

_"Now," said a male voice. He looked towards the woman, but in her place was a man. The same man he had seen before, as he lay dying. But where had the woman gone? "I'm thinking you're owing me for saving your life. But that's something we can work out later, when we're back in Neverwinter, eh?"_

o - o - o - o - o

_The corridors of the Host Tower smelled strongly of sulphur as he walked along towards the small room which had been granted to him upon his arrival. It was a very, very small room, worth far less than he paid for it. But one could not complain about such things. Not without being told to pack your bags and make room for somebody who __**was**__ willing to pay the exhorbitant prices._

_"You. Elf." The voice was deep, commanding, and he immediately stopped, turned, and bowed towards its source. The speaker was a human wizard; not high ranking, but high enough to have him thrown out of the Host Tower for disrespect._

_"How may I help you?" he asked, attempting to cover his irritation at being disturbed. He wanted to get back to his closet of a room as soon as possible, to check on the progress of his latest experiment._

_"The senior wizards require your assistance. Follow me."_

_Without further explanation the man turned, and he followed. You did not ignore a summons from a senior wizard, not if you wanted to remain in the form you currently possessed._

_The human led him on a long journey through the Tower, and he saw parts of it that had been closed to him thus far. Occasionally he heard a muffled scream from behind a door, or a sob of despair. His guide ignored the sounds, and he tried his best to ignore them too._

_After ten minutes or so of walking he surmised that he was somewhere near the top of the Second Tower. This was not a good sign. The higher up in the Host Tower you climbed, the more senior the wizards you found there. He had absolutely no intention of drawing the attention of high-ranking wizards to himself._

_"In here," said his guide, stopping suddenly before a dark oak door. _

_He pushed the door open and stepped through, and his guide followed him. Inside the room, half a dozen wizards were stood around a chalk circle that had been drawn on the floor. In the centre of the circle was a dirty man huddled inside a cage. One of the wizards stepped forward to address his guide._

_"Was this the best that you could do?"_

_"Yes, I could find no one else of similar strength or ability."_

_"Very well," the wizard sighed. "You. What is your name?"_

_"Elidor," he replied promptly, giving a fake name. All the names that he gave were fake. He was currently registered at the Tower under 'Nembrinnen', but he wasn't about to tell the wizard that._

_"Fine. Elidor, hold this," he said, giving a large quartz crystal to him. "And stand here." He maneuvered him into a place on the circle beside a pile of ash. "All you have to do is concentrate on the man in the cage. Think of nothing else. Your focus must be absolute, or the results could be deadly."_

_"What is this?" he asked, indicating the ash._

_"That's what's left of the wizard you're replacing. His focus waivered, and he was turned to ash. If your focus waivers, there's an even chance of either you or the man in the cage being burned alive."_

_"And what is it that you are trying to achieve, with your spell?" he asked curiously. This was a level of magic he himself was far off gaining. It was a rare insight, to be shown what the higher wizards got upto._

_"We're trying to send him somewhere."_

_"Where?"_

_"That's what we're trying to discover. Every time we send someone through, we come a little closer to finding out where they go."_

_"Please don't do this!" the man in the cage cried desperately. "Please, I didn't do anything, I'm innocent! I have a wife and children, I just want to go home! I swear, I didn't do it!"_

_"What is this man accused of?" he asked the wizard._

_"Don't know, don't care. We ask the city guards for a criminal, and they send us one. What he's done, if anything, is irrelevent to us. Now, I think I've explained enough. Stand still, focus, and you won't have anything to worry about."_

_The wizard left him, returning to his own place in the circle. The other wizards were silent, the only sound in the room was the caged man's sobs and pleas for mercy. But he would find no mercy here. The Host Tower of the Arcane was not a merciful place._

_One of the wizards began chanting in a language that sounded somewhat familiar to him. One by one, the crystals in the hands of the mages began to glow with an inner light, and he forgot about the chanting and concentrated purely on the prisoner. He had no desire to be turned to ash, not today, not any day. And if he survived this, he was never leaving his room again. He would have his meals brought there by the servants instead of dining in the main hall with his peers._

_Magic began to crackle, flowing from the crystals towards the centre of the circle, towards the caged man who was now screaming in fear and desperation. Where the magic touched the cage, it flowed around it in a circle, and he sensed it travelling faster and faster until it was spinning, blurring the image of the man within._

_Gods, what were these people doing!? The magic seemed to be opening some sort of portal, but where the portal went he could not tell. Then, without warning, the magic surged, and a plume of fire rose up from the ground. The caged man screamed in agony, but his scream lasted only a second. The fire was so hot that he was incinerated; even his bones were turned to ash._

_"What in the Hells happened?" snapped the wizard, looking around at the others. "Who did that?" The other wizards quickly spoke up, assuring him that it wasn't their fault, that they had been concentrated properly, as requested._

_"It must have been Elidor," said another mage. "Yes, I'm sure I saw the light in his crystal fluctuating just before the fire."_

_"I can assure you that my concentration did not waiver even for a moment," he said, trying for an indignant tone to hide the terror that was gripping his heart._

_"Yes, I saw the light flickering too. It was Elidor," said another wizard, cottoning onto the fact that a scapegoat had been found._

_"This is all your fault, Grear," said the 'head' wizard to his guide. "If you had been willing to find someone with actual magical skill, we wouldn't have to clear up this mess. If I'd wanted to use the first person I came across in the corridor, I would have gone myself. As for you, Elidor, leave this room, forget that you were ever here, and pray that I don't come across you again."_

_He hurried from the room and all but ran down the stairs to the base of the tower. He had never been so scared in all his life, and he was all too aware of how close he had come to having his life prematurely ended. But more than that, the wizard's words stirred something with in him; anger. _

_Anger that he had been dismissed as powerless so casually. Anger that he had been blamed for something that was not his fault by people who wanted to cover up their own incompetence. Anger that the wizards had a complete disregard for life; both the lives of their fellows and of their 'test' subject._

_And most of all, anger that he feared such worthless people, and not the other way around. Yes, powerful they may be, but they obviously lacked intelligence. Power without intelligence was a recipe for disaster; but people who were intelligent could increase their own power sensibly. Nothing would increase the intelligence of an idiot, no matter how powerful he was._

_He decided, then, that he would never again allow himself to be used by somebody who considered themselves 'powerful' -- whether wizards or rulers, no man would ever use him like that again._

o - o - o - o - o

_The hammer of the smith was brought down precisely again and again. The noise that it made, ringing against the metal on the anvil, resounded like no other metal had before. It spoke to her, words of joy and happiness at being made whole again. Songs of battle and death, that were both glorious and terrifying. She wondered if the Kalach-Cha heard it too._

_"Are you sure this man is skilled enough?" she asked Kail. The young woman nodded._

_"Dwarves are amongst the greatest of the smiths in the world. They have an affinity with everything that comes from the ground. Well, everything except trees," she said wryly. "Why, do you not think this will be enough to reforge the Sword of Gith?"_

_"I do not know, and that worries me. The Sword is no ordinary weapon. It was forged originally by Gith herself, imbued with her hatred and malice, with her desire for vengeance and revenge."_

_"It should suit me just fine, then. I'm good at killing."_

_"It is not a joking matter, Kalach-Cha. You must learn to use this weapon as an extension of yourself, and time is not on our side."_

_"Thar," said the smith, holding the weapon out by the hilt. The blade was glowing red with the heat. "Allow it to cool naturally... if I put it in water now, it could make the blade too brittle. Give it a day or two, and it will be good fer use."_

_They gave it three days, just to be sure, then she took Kail to the make-shift training grounds inside the Keep. There they set up some straw training dummies. The straw, tightly bound, had the same density as bone. It would make an ideal target._

_"Now, attack the dummies as if they were the most deadly of foes."_

_The Kalach-Cha drew the Sword and ran towards the first target. As she approached, she slowed, brought the Sword around in an arc, and put her weight behind the swing. The blade sliced clean through the training dummy, like a knife through butter._

_"How was that?"_

_"Not bad," she replied, her heart sinking. "Try again with all the other targets."_

_As she watched the Kalach-Cha methodically destroy each dummy, she realised that the task ahead of her was not going to be made easier just because the Sword had been reforged. Kail was proficient with the Sword, which was longer than she was used to, but seemed to consider the blade nothing more than a mere weapon, a tool to be used. In fact, it was much more than that. It was a part of her, now. The Sword needed not just to be wielded, but allowed to live again. When Kail had finished her practise, she called her over._

_"Kalach-Cha, I am pleased that you handle the Sword of Gith well. But being able to use the Sword is not enough. You must make it a part of yourself, you must become one with it, and allow it to live again through you. Otherwise it is nothing more than a Sword; you may as well be carrying any blade, and our battle against the King of Shadows will be lost."_

_"I don't understand what you mean. How can a weapon live? You speak as if it has a life and soul of its own... how can that be?"_

_"It is not an easy thing to describe. I will try to help you understand, but in the end, it is a feeling, something you must experience, not learn from being told."_

_"Enemy troops on the move!" shouted a voice from atop the walls. Immediately there was a blur of activity as the gates were pushed closed and a throng of Greycloaks rushed to arms. The Kalach-Cha sheathed the Sword, and ran to the nearest steps._

_She followed after the bard, taking the steps two at a time. When she reached the top of the wall, she looked out into the distance. Sure enough, coming from the south, there was a shadow across the land. Figures moved within the shadow; shades, vampires, zombies and skeletons. Creatures of darkness and night. Before them, the creatures of the forests and hills began to flee as if being chased by the worst of grass fires. Animals were particularly sensitive to the Shadow._

_"I guess our time just ran out," said the Kalach-Cha. "It's time to make our stand."_

_Preparations were made, orders given. The defences atop the walls -- catapults and trebuchets were loaded, oil barrels were filled up, torches were lit, archers took to their stations. Throughout it all, Kail was calm and confident, a source of strength that her troops drew from. She seemed confident that the battle could not be lost._

_There was a lull of activity as the Shadow paused. It was still mid-afternoon, not yet nightfall. The Shadow would not move until then. It did not like the harsh light of day. So its troops waited in the nearby forest, waited where they were out of the full gaze of the sun. Then, when darkness fell, the Shadow continued its march._

_The enemy troops were legion. They rolled over the fields in a wave of darkness, striking fear into the hearts of many of the Greycloaks, even at a distance. Some abandoned their posts, running terrified into the Keep. The ones that remained loosed arrows and rocks and fiery oil, but it seemed to do little to decrease enemy numbers. Soon the undead were at the gates, battering them with an impromptu ram. The Kalach-Cha and her companions assembled in the courtyard._

_"Zhjaeve, Casavir, I want you to use whatever divine power you have to destroy those undead. Concentrate on the shades and wraiths. Neeshka, Bishop, Grobnar, I want you using fire arrows. Try to target the zombies. Khelgar, Shandra, I want you to tackle the vampires. But be careful, they'll be fast, strong, and dangerous. Sand, Qara, Elanee, hit anything you like with everything you've got."_

_"And what will you be doing?" she asked._

_"I will take on the King of Shadows," she said grimly, stroking the hilt of the Sword._

_The first wave of undead came through the ruined gates, and she channeled divine power drawn from the plane of positive energy. The undead spawn closest to her vanished, completely unmade. And as she regained her strength, Casavir repeated her action, and so they took it in turns to turn the undead. Meanwhile, Khelgar and Shandra were in close combat with several vampires. Elanee was calling lightning bolts from the sky, while Sand and Qara hurled fireballs and magic missiles into the mass of undead minions. Bishop, Neeshka and Grobnar stood back, picking off anything that came too close to the casters. And Kail waited._

_The shadows began to deepen, and a man stepped forward from them. His eyes were black, as were his clothes and his hair. In his hand he held a sword with a blade of blackened steel that shadows curled around as if part of the weapon itself. This was the King of Shadows, the man who had once protected Illefarn. And Kail stepped forward to meet him._

_His blade sang out, straight towards the head of the Kalach-Cha. But the young woman raised the Sword of Gith, deflecting the blow. Time and time again the King of Shadow struck, dancing around to break past her defences. But the Kalach-Cha countered every move._

_Then, the King of Shadows took several paces back. He stopped, raised his sword, and charged towards the young woman. He moved with an unnatural speed, unhindered by living body of true flesh, not bound to the physical laws of the plane. As he struck, the Kalach-Cha raised her Sword, which struck his. But instead of pulling back and striking again, the man put all of his weight into pushing forward, blade against blade. The Kalach-Cha did likewise, and flashes of shadow began to crackle around the Sword of Gith. A crack formed on the edge, and spread down the blade, running along the lines which had been recently reformed._

_An instant later, the Sword of Gith shattered as it had done so many years ago. Kail, still pushing her weight forward, succumbed to the sudden release of pressure. She fell forward, onto the blade of shadow. The hilt of the Sword of Gith fell from her hand as the King of Shadows pulled his blade along the young woman's torso, severing her body in two._

_"No!" she cried, running towards the lifeless form of the Kalach-Cha. Then, a vampire rose up from the shadows of the ground, and sank her teeth into her neck. The last thing she saw as darkness claimed her was Crossroad Keep, bathed in darkness._


	58. Meditations

_58. Meditations_

Kail sat up shivering in bed and rubbed her eyes. The Captain's Suite, which had been assigned to her as soon as she had arrived at the Keep, was cold and bare. Master Veedle and his men had not yet done any work on this part of the building, and the hearth was full of rubble. She would be unable to light any fire until the builders did some repair work. But it was not just the cold air of the morning that caused her to shiver.

Her dream had felt so real... like she actually _was_ talking to Amie, like she _was_ flying through the air, seeing the Shadow approach on the horizon. It seemed almost prophetic, in a way.

A quiet knock on her door made her jump, and she hurried out of bed, dressing in the clothes she had shed only a few hours earlier. When she unbolted the door - glad that Master Veedle had at least possessed enough foresight to add a heavy bolt - a pair of pale luminous eyes bored into hers.

"Zhjaeve! What can I do for you?"

"I believe that the Shadow touched my dreams last night, Kalach-Cha."

"Why do you think that?" she asked hesitantly. She didn't like the idea that the King of Shadows might be touching people's dreams. Her dreams.

"I am aware of myself to the extent that I rarely dream. And when I do, I am able to control my dreams, to exert my influence over them and change them. Last night, my dream was out of my control. A nightmare the likes of which I have never experienced before."

"What did you dream about?"

"That we failed to defeat the King of Shadows. I have attempted to analyse my dream, and I believe that elements of what I perceive to be true were twisted into something else, something that might have caused me to doubt myself and my resolve, if I had not realised the true source of my dreams."

"I... had a strange dream last night, too," she admitted cautiously. "It was a warning... a friend gave me a warning, told me that I needed to move faster if I wanted to beat the King of Shadows. I don't think the Shadow caused my dream, though. Why would it urge me to hurry to move against it?"

"Perhaps it was not sent by the Shadow. Perhaps your proximity to the shards offers you some measure of protection," mused Zhjaeve. "But what is more worrying is that the Shadow was able to touch my mind. I would like to speak to Sand about this. Perhaps between us we will be able to come up with a way to prevent the King of Shadows from touching our dreams."

"Why are you so worried about it? They're just dreams. They can't hurt us."

"Not physically, Kalach-Cha, but dreams can be damaging to the soul. How do you think, for example, the Grey Cloaks, would react to constant intrusions into their dreams by the King of Shadows? Consider that these men are farmers, little more than a peasant militia, and as yet untried in battle. Unlike you and your companions, they are not used to strange events, strange creatures, and battling darkness. They are new, impressionable. How would you react, in those circumstances?"

"I guess I'd be pretty frightened. If it happened enough, I'd probably start to doubt myself. To wonder if I wasn't trying to accomplish the impossible. I might be fooled into believing that the King of Shadows is stronger than I... undefeatable, maybe."

"And you might be persuaded to abandon your post at the worst possible time."

"So... you think you have a way to stop it from happening?"

"Perhaps. As I said, I must speak to Sand first. But what are you going to do about your dream?"

"I think it's time to start making some plans. I'm going to ask everybody to come to a meeting in a couple of hours, then we can properly discuss what has to be done next."

"Very well. I shall seek out Sand, and discuss the situation with him. Hopefully by the time you have gathered everybody else, we may have worked out a solution to our problems. This problem, at least."

Kail sank down on her bed as Zhjaeve left. All she wanted to do was crawl back into bed and sleep for a few more hours. Or days. But if Zhjaeve could be believed - and she probably could - then even her dreams were not safe from the Shadow.

She sighed, and hauled herself to her feet. Sleep was a luxury that she could not allow herself. Right now, she had to find her friends, and tell them her plans.

o - o - o - o - o

Knowing that the Nameless Tavern was the most likely location for her friends to be found in, even given the early hour, she made it her first destination. When she got there, however, she found only Khelgar, Neeshka and Bishop inside. Khelgar and Neeshka were sat at the bar; a plate of food sat in front of the Tiefling, and a tankard of untouched ale was in front of the Dwarf. Ale? Untouched? With Khelgar around? Something was definitely wrong here. She slid onto a stool beside him.

"Hey. You won't drink it by looking at it, you know," she teased.

"Ah, lass. I'm not in much of a drinking mood, I'm afraid."

"Are you sick?

"Nay, nothing like that. Just feeling a tad tired."

"He had bad dreams last night," said Neeshka.

"Ach, damn yer hide Tiefling. I told ye not to speak of that... only children get upset by dreams."

"What about you, Neeshka? Did you have bad dreams?"

"Not... bad... exactly. Just dreams about stuff from the past. You know, coming to Neverwinter, starting out in the thief business, meeting Leldon."

"I see. Well, could you both come to a meeting in my office inside the Keep in about an hour? There's some things I want to discuss, and I think Zhjaeve also wants to talk to everybody."

"Aye, lass. In fact, I think I'll go up there now. It's not like I'm getting any drinking done here." He huffed as he slid from his stool to the floor, and Neeshka followed him.

"I might as well go with you. My food's gone cold. I'll get more later."

As the pair left, she turned her attention to Bishop. He was lounging in a chair in front of the fire, which was low. She could tell that he had already eaten breakfast, because Karnwyr was playing with a piece of bacon rind, throwing it into the air where he lay and catching it again.

"So what does the great Captain of Crossroad Keep want with her humble tracker?" sneered Bishop before she could even sit down in the chair opposite him. "Something you want hunted down, milady, or some forsaken path scouted?"

"Enough of the mockery, Bishop," she said.

"Mockery? There's no mockery. I'm just addressing you by your new title... as a lapdog for Nasher. Is that how you want to spend the rest of your days? With a squire by your side, a painted shield, and some pathetic code of honour to keep your back stiff as a board?"

"You knew me before I became master of Crossroad Keep. Has it really changed me?" she asked. He was silent for a moment as he ran his golden-brown eyes over her.

"No. Maybe not. But it's hard to tell past the words sometimes, and that makes me a little suspicious. You treat me like one of your lackeys and you'll regret it. And gods help you if you try and order me around. I'm my own man, got it? Now, is that all? Or did you have some 'orders' for me?"

"No orders," she said, deciding not to even challenge his behaviour. "Just a request. I'm holding a meeting in about an hour in my office, to discuss with everybody what I need to do next. I think Zhjaeve might have something to say, as well. Of course, you don't have to come. If it's treating you too much like a 'lackey' then you can stay here. Or leave, if you like. I won't force anybody to stay here."

"I'll see how I feel in an hour," he said with a shrug, and she left him to it. She wasn't in the mood for bad moods.

When she stepped out of the tavern she saw Elanee, sitting in her newly formed grove. The elf was staring out of the courtyard's exit, her eyes unseeingly focused on the horizon.

"Elanee?" she said as she drew near. The other woman jumped, and looked at her through tired eyes.

"Oh, Kail. Hello."

"Are you alright? You look a little... upset." Elanee's hair was messy, as if she hadn't bothered to brush it that morning. There were dark circles under her eyes, which were red and bloodshot, as if she had been crying. Perhaps she'd had a dream about her Circle?

"I'm fine. What can I do for you?"

"I'm just letting you know that I'm having a meeting in the Keep in about an hour. Will you come? I think it's important that everybody be there."

"Yes, I will come."

"Thanks. Have you seen anybody else this morning? Grobnar and Shandra, or Casavir?"

The elf winced. "No, I have not seen them. Perhaps you should check the tavern, or the Keep itself."

"I've just checked the tavern, but they weren't there. Anyway, I'll leave you to your thinking, or whatever. If you see anybody, let them know about the meeting, will you?" Elanee nodded, and she left.

Her friends were acting strange. Very strange. Khelgar not drinking ale, Elanee being melancholy, Bishop being more rude than was normal... could this be related to dreams sent by the King of Shadows? If so, she was glad that Zhjaeve had brought it to her attention.

The next place she checked was the kitchen, where she found Qara sitting at the table eating a plate of food. The cook was shooting occasional small glares at the sorceress, who affected not to notice.

"Qara," she said, and almost shivered at the icy glare the girl gave her. "I'm having a meeting in my office in an hour. Can you be there?"

"What do I need to be there for?" Qara asked haughtily.

"I just want to discuss with everybody what I'm doing next."

"I'm sure you'll do whatever you think is best for you, and the rest of us will find out about it along the way. What's the point in me being there? You never listen to me anyway. At least in the kitchen I can have a decent conversation with somebody who doesn't ignore me constantly."

"Fine, then stay in the kitchen. Like you said, I don't need you to come to the meeting. I just thought you might like to be included." She turned and left the kitchen before Qara could reply. She was already fighting the urge to break Qara's ungrateful neck, and she didn't want to hold a meeting in a bad mood. Since Grobnar always managed to cheer her up, she decided to seek him out next, and made her way to the second floor where her friends had all claimed bedrooms.

She counted doors as she walked along the cold corridor. Grobnar had the fourth room on the right, and as she neared it she noticed that the door was ajar. Quietly, she tiptoed upto it, and heard voices within.

"...and it was like losing him all over again," said a woman's voice. She recognised it as Shandra.

"Oh, that's just terrible! To go through all of that again!" That was Grobnar, his voice full of sympathy. She instantly felt guilty about eavesdropping on a private conversation, and knocked on the door before stepping into the room. Both of them jumped, conveying both surprise and guilt.

"Why... Kail! I... uh... won't you come in and make yourself comfortable?" Grobnar stammered, jumping up from his chair and indicating for her to sit. For some reason, Shandra gave him a sympathetic look.

"Thanks, but I can't stay. I just came by to tell you that I'm holding a meeting in my office soon, and I'd like you both to be there. Khelgar and Neeshka are already there, and I think Elanee might arrive soon too."

"Oh, splendid! Er, I'll be there too! Um... yes!" said Grobnar. He had moved onto twiddling his thumbs in agitation.

"We'll both come to the meeting," Shandra assured her with a tired smile.

"Great. Have either of you seen Casavir? He's the only one I've yet to invite."

"I think he's still in his room," said Shandra. "At least, his door was closed when I got up, and I haven't heard it open since."

"Thanks. I'll leave you both to it, then." They both watched her leave, and it wasn't until she closed the door that their voices rose again in quiet talk.

Casavir's door was the first one on the corridor, almost at the top of the stairway. As she knocked on his door, she wondered if he too was behaving strangely.

"Kail..." said Casavir, opening the door slightly to peer around it. He was clad in loose trousers, and shirtless. His normally tidy short black hair was somewhat ruffled. "This is not a good time for me to talk... I'm in the middle of my prayers." Well, nothing strange about that.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," she said. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm holding a meeting in my office in a bit less than an hour."

"I will be there," he said.

"Good." She nodded, and he closed the door. That was a little strange. Normally he was very polite and accommodating. Oh well, at least the prospect of an esoteric ritual might take everybody's minds off whatever was bothering them.

o - o - o - o - o

In the end, everybody turned up for the meeting, even Qara and Bishop. Since the office was only in a slightly better state of repair than her suite, everybody perched on the long table or grabbed one of the few chairs that had been brought from other areas of the Keep. Once everybody was there, she closed the door and lounged against it, so she could see their reactions as Zhjaeve spoke. Beside Zhjaeve, Sand stifled a yawn and tried to appear attentive.

"Last night," Zhjaeve began, "the King of Shadows invaded our dreams." There were hushed whispers as her words sank in. "I have spoken at length with Sand, and briefly with a few of you, and can say with some confidence that our enemy has been trying to undermine us in several ways. To some of us, he sent dreams of things past, of times when we were feeling low, and doubt was in our hearts." Kail noticed that Neeshka, Shandra, Sand and Casavir looked somewhat uncomfortable. Zhjaeve continued. "To others, he sent dreams of things that have not yet happened, designed to cause us to doubt the path that we walk, and our judgements." Khelgar looked somewhat embarrassed. "I too had this sort of dream. And to others, he sent dreams of each other, dreams designed to cause us to question each other's motives, to divide us." Now it was Elanee, Qara, Bishop and Grobnar's turn to look uncomfortable.

"But why now?" asked Casavir.

"We think that the reason may be two-fold," said Sand, perking up for the first time since the start of the meeting. "First, that the King of Shadow's power has only just grown strong enough for him to be able to affect the world, and our minds, in this way. And second, this Keep used to be a stronghold of the Shadow, during his previous onslaught. Some essence of him likely remains, making it easier for him to influence us here. But fear not, Zhjaeve and I, with our combined knowledge and a little help from Aldanon, have come up with a way to... ward against any further intrusion. A spell of sorts that will encompass the entire Keep, protecting all within it as they sleep."

"Know that until the spell is completed, we must remain strong, and not allow the King of Shadows to divide us," said Zhjaeve. Then she stepped back, allowing Kail to take her place.

"Tomorrow," Kail began, running through the mental speech she had prepared earlier, "Zhjaeve and I will be leaving for the ruins of an Illefarn settlement called Arvahn. There, I will undergo a ritual that may help me in my fight against the King of Shadows. The journey may be dangerous. We may have to fight. There may be traps, and we don't even know what this ritual involves. I may be tested in some way. Or not. My point is, we'll be venturing into the unknown, in more ways than one. Everybody is welcome to come with us, but I won't force anybody to come along. You can all stay here, or leave and go elsewhere, as you choose."

"Bah, I'm not going anywhere!" said Khelgar. Neeshka nodded to his sentiment.

"Thanks," Kail smiled gratefully. It was good to know that she could count on at least a couple of her friends to stick by her. "We'll be leaving tomorrow morning at dawn. You have until then to rest, restock, and perform any tasks that you need to complete. We may be gone for some days, so make sure you put all your affairs in order before we leave."

Her speech over, she indicated for them to disperse. Bishop did so immediately, striding from the room without a single word. Elanee was on his heels, followed by Qara. Casavir stopped to speak with her for a moment.

"I wish to apologise for my rudeness this morning..." he started.

"Don't worry about it. We've all got a lot on our minds."

"Perhaps. But still, I am sorry. If I had known that my dreams last night were a result of the King of Shadow's intrusion into my mind, I would not have allowed them to affect me so much. I will of course accompany you and Zhjaeve to Arvahn. My weapon is, as always, at your disposal."

She nodded, and he left. In the background, Neeshka snickered, and whispered 'weapon' to Khelgar in a highly suggestive way. The dwarf merely snorted and shook his head.

"I will go to start preparations for the spell to ward our dreams," Sand said, stifling another yawn. "There is quite a bit to do before we can actually begin the incantations." He left, and Khelgar and Neeshka followed him out. No doubt they were heading back to the tavern to finished their respective drinks and breakfast.

"I say, isn't this exciting!" said Grobnar. His eyes were shining, and he seemed to have gotten over the earlier effects of his bad dreams. "Dangerous journeys, ancient ruins, esoteric rituals... just the thing to get the creative juices flowing!"

"Yeah, I can feel them flowing already," said Shandra somewhat drily.

"You can? Oh, how wonderful! Say, Kail, what will you be doing until we leave tomorrow?"

"Well, I have some instructions to give to Master Veedle and Kana... but that can wait. Right now, I'm going to do some meditating with Zhjaeve, to help me 'know myself'."

"Ooh, can I do that too? Please? Pretty please? I'll be very quiet, I promise!"

"I wouldn't mind knowing myself a little better too," said Shandra thoughtfully. "Everything has happened so quickly since my farm was burnt down, sometimes I feel a little overwhelmed by it all. That is, ah, if you don't mind us tagging along, of course."

"Zhjaeve?" asked Kail.

"They are welcome to join us," said Zhjaeve. "The more people know themselves, the greater our chances of victory."

Grobnar clapped his hands with glee, and they followed Zhjaeve from the room.

o - o - o - o - o

The library was the quietest stable room in the Keep, Aldanon's occasional mumbling notwithstanding. It was there that Zhjaeve led them, and had them seat themselves on cushions on the floor.

"Know that you must close your eyes and regulate your breathing," said Zhjaeve. They followed her instructions.

"Is this how all Githzerai meditate, Zhjaeve?" asked Grobnar, his eyes still closed.

"Know that you must also be silent and reflective."

"Oh, right, sorry."

"Now, imagine yourself floating within nothingness. See yourself in the eye of your mind, weightless, formless. Know that this formless self is the essence of who you are, and it can be directed, shaped. Direct it now to a river, and dive in."

Kail imagined herself in a fast-flowing turbulent river, nothing like the one that flowed through West Harbor. This river carved paths through mountains, it slowly but surely eroded the land, bringing the mountains to their knees. And she let it carry her, taking her with it at its whim. Some part of her mind recognised that Zhjeave was speaking, and acknowledged her words.

"This river is life, it is time, and it carries you with it. Right now you are powerless to fight against it, but the more you meditate within this river, the stronger you become, the more able you become to navigate it, and eventually you will even be able to shape its channel and alter the course of its flow. But that is for later. Right now, you are being carried by the river. As it brings you around a bend, you see rocks up ahead which stand up from the water in the middle of the channel. Swim towards these rocks, and take hold of them as the river brings you close.

"These rocks are your life-line. They are what you cling to when the night is at its darkest, when your thoughts are at their bleakest. They are what is left when everything else is gone, when you are alone and feeling powerless. You need only reach out to grasp the rocks, and feel secure and grounded once more. When everything else is gone, only the rocks remain. But know that the rocks are nothing more than a metaphor. They are your mind's way of visualising what your essence holds onto right until the very end.

"Look more closely at the rocks. And, without forcing any pre-conceived perceptions onto the rocks, see them start to take shape, to become what it is that is at the base of your very soul. Now, when you have the image, tell me what it is that you are holding onto."

"Why, it's music!" said Grobnar in surprise. "I see the notes flowing around me and through me, holding me in place in the river. I know that as long as I hear the music, and play it, and feel it, then no matter how desperate things are, I can always get through."

"Good. Shandra?"

"I see... I see Kail. Even when I have nothing left in the world, I have Kail to pull me through the worst of it."

Kail was so surprised by the woman's answer that she almost lost the image of herself in the river, almost opened her eyes. But she caught herself just in time, and reinforced the mental image before it could dissipate."

"And you, Kalach-Cha? What is it that you see?"

She concentrated on the rocks in front of her, feeling them writhe and wriggle as they changed into a different form. _It must be music, like Grobnar_, she thought. But even as she tried to see the rocks as music, they fought against her, trying to become something else. They resisted, twisting in her grasp.

"Let the image form naturally, Kalach-Cha. Do not try to consciously shape it yourself."

She stilled her thoughts, her struggle against the rocks, and they began to take shape more smoothly, until they became not an image, not an object, but a concept. She stared at it for a moment, then understanding dawned on her. She opened her eyes and stood.

"What did you see, Kalach-Cha?" asked Zhjaeve, her pale, luminous eyes trying to see into her soul. Now Shandra and Grobnar were looking at her curiously too.

"Nothing. It didn't work," she said, and left before anybody could object.

The chill air of the corridor brought goosebumps to her skin as she strode back to her suite. But she ignored the cold. Her thoughts were turned inwards, at what she had seen. Could it be true? Was... _that_ what she clung to when everything else was gone? No, it couldn't be right. She didn't _want_ it to be right. Zhjaeve must be wrong. It wasn't fair. Everybody else saw nice things... Grobnar had his music, and Shandra had... well.... her! And what was it _she_ was clinging to? Fighting. Strength. Violence.

No. She wasn't going to be somebody who turned to violence when nothing else was left. She wasn't going to be that person. She was going to be better than that.


	59. The Road to Arvahn

_59. The Road to Arvahn_

"Repeat my instructions," said Kail.

"I am to continue recruiting and training your men to the standard which you have instructed. We are to extend patrols to the outlying lands in order to increase the safety of those in and around Crossroad Keep. At present, we are to withold from taxing local farmers, but are to tax any merchants who come this way," said Kana by rote.

"Reconstruction of the primary fortifications is to be my main concern," added Master Veedle. "If my men can spare time, we are also to work on cobbling the path from the High Road to the Keep, to encourage merchants and travellers. We are to continue renovating the buildings in the courtyard, but may not, under any circumstances -- and I quote verbatim -- 'waste our time working on the Captain's Suite, or any other rooms in the Keep itself until we have a purpose for them'. But really, Captain, I don't think it's fitting for someone of your position to be sleeping in such a ruined bedroom. At least let us-" He stopped talking when Kail raised an admonitory finger.

"Your objection is noted. Officer Kana, please ensure that Master Veedle does not forget his instructions." Kail waited only for Kana to nod before continuing. "Now. As I said, I'll be gone for a week at most. With any luck I'll be back long before then. Until I return, you're the one in charge, Kana. If Nasher wants any of our men, stall him by whatever means necessary. I want this place well-defended whilst I'm gone."

"You can count on me, Captain," said Kana, saluting.

Kail left her underlings and joined her friends who were waiting for her at the courtyard gates. It seemed nobody wanted to miss the opportunity to explore ancient ruins, because everybody was there, even Qara.

"Everything sorted?" Neeshka asked.

"More or less. I still don't trust Master Veedle... the second I'm out of sight he'll be in that suite, trying to fix it up so that the 'Captain' of Crossroad Keep doesn't have to live in a hovel. I just hope Kana can keep him out of too much trouble. But I've got more important things to worry about right now."

"Like finding Arvahn, millennia after it's been abandoned and forgotten about by men?"

"Like what's going to happen when I get there."

o - o - o - o - o

The weather was pleasant, given the season. Although not too warm, the sun was shining brightly, and Kail occasionally closed her eyes as she walked, feeling the light bathing her face. It felt good to be out in the countryside, away from Neverwinter, and Crossroad Keep, and all of her responsibilities. She almost wished she had brought her horse along with her, but it would have been pointless. The group could only travel as fast as the slowest person, and of her companions, Neeshka could not ride a horse as it caused her too much discomfort, none of the horses were small enough for Khelgar and Grobnar, Elanee said that it was too much like enslavement, Sand complained that horses would make his robes smell bad, and Qara had never ridden before in her life. Still, as long as the weather remained favourable, she was quite happy with walking.

She almost tripped when something large stopped in front of her, barring her path. Opening her eyes, she found Karnwyr stood sideways against her legs. When she tried to take another step forward, a low growl came from his throat. She looked around for Bishop, but could not see him. He had gone off earlier in the morning, claiming that he was going 'scouting'. She suspected he used it as an excuse to be away from everyone and enjoy a bit of privacy. Not that she could blame him. Privacy was one thing she was sorely lacking.

When she failed to locate the ranger, she called the group to a halt, loaded ten small bolts into the RAMP, and slipped two throwing daggers into her hands. Her companions saw her arming herself, and did the same while she stroked the top of Karnwyr's head and waited patiently on the road.

"People approach," said Elanee a few minutes later, her head cocked to one side.

"Several people," said Sand, his head tilted in a similar manner. "Three, perhaps."

"Four," said Elanee. Sand shot her a questioning look, then nodded imperceptibly.

"Alright," said Kail. "Sand, Elanee, Qara, Neeshka, Zhjaeve, Grobnar... go hide in the trees."

"Why? I'm not afraid to fight!" Qara protested.

"There has to be a good reason why Bishop didn't come back himself to tell us of these people... he's probably shadowing them so that he can target them whilst he's hidden. Which leads me to believe that at least one of the people poses a real danger to our well-being."

"Or he's just gone and doesn't care about what happens to the rest of us," said Casavir. Kail ignored him. Bishop might not care about what happened to her, or Casavir, or the rest of the group. But he cared about Karnwyr; as long as the wolf was near, Bishop would not be far.

"Now," she continued to Qara, "you can continue to stand here like a gaping idiot, forcing me to explain my logic and my instructions to you, or you can get into the trees, prepare your most interesting spells and prepare to cast them whilst Shandra, Khelgar, Casavir and I act as bait, bearing in mind that every second I spend pointlessly explaining myself to you is a second that potential enemies grow closer to us."

Neeshka and Zhjaeve immediately hurried to the trees on the east side of the road, whilst Sand and Elanee disappeared into the west in the way that only elves could. Qara narrowed her eyes in anger, then obviously decided that hiding with Neeshka and Zhjaeve was preferable to standing on the open road and making a target out of herself. She too hurried to the east, whilst Grobnar bounced on the spot, apparently undecided.

"Go with Sand and Elanee," Kail told him. He nodded, and disappeared into the undergrowth almost as quietly as the elves. "As you think is best," she told Karnwyr, giving the wolf a last pat on the head. He gave her a wolfish grin, then trotted off into the trees, no doubt returning to his master.

"My lady..." began Casavir.

"Shush. I need to think," she said, silencing him. She heard him sigh, but he made no other protest as she tried to figure out who could be approaching. They were still within the boundaries of Crossroad Keep, so it was unlikely to be bandits. Bishop would not have sent Karnwyr to warn her if it had been one of the Greycloak patrols, or a simple merchant. There were no orc strongholds in this area, and the githyanki had long since given up hunting her.

A few minutes later a group of adventurers appeared on the road ahead. Their leader, a dwarf, waved to her in greeting, and smiled.

"Hail, Kail. Where are you bound now?" he asked.

"Have we met?"

"We've never been properly introduced to each other, so let's do that now, shall we? I'm Zinn, the pretty lady to my right is Niyra, the elf is Shahra, and the gnome in the dress is Oyo," said Zinn, indicating the members of his group. Though he was affecting a friendly manner, she knew enough to spot a staged performance when she saw one. These adventurers were armed to the teeth, and obviously tensed for a fight.

"It's a _robe_ you bastard!" said the gnome of the group.

"And now that introductions have been made, there's the matter of the bounty on your head," said Zinn, ignoring his companion.

"There's only one? I'm disappointed," she said.

"The Arcane Brotherhood is very unhappy with you right now, so unhappy that they've offered a hefty sum of gold to anyone who brings your head back to Luskan. The fact that you were found innocent at your trial particularly infuriated them. Rumour has it they went through a great deal of trouble to frame you."

"Are you planning on collecting this bounty?

"You're a well-known adventurer, and the fact that you've survived this long means you've got skill and good equipment. When we kill you, we'll be able to collect the bounty, take your equipment, and become the heroes of Luskan in one blow."

"Since I am now a squire of Neverwinter, I feel it is only _chivalrous_," and here she gave Casavir an I-can-be-a-good-squire look, "to warn you that attempting to kill me will result in your demise. In fact there's a ninety-four percent chance that your entire group will be killed, whilst my companions and I will walk away unharmed, and carrying _your_ equipment."

"Ha! There's four of us, and four of you. Those seem like more than even chances, to me."

Kail brought both of her arms up in a rapid motion, releasing both throwing knives. They flew from her hands and hit her target; Zinn's throat. The dwarf made a strangled choking sound, then keeled over backwards. His companions regarded his corpse with surprise.

"Now it's three to four," she smiled.

The road became a blur of activity as the rest of Zinn's group jumped to action. The gnome, Oyo, cast some sort of shielding spell, whilst the woman, Niyra, rushed forward to strike at Shandra. Elanee stepped out from the trees and called lightning down from the sky, whilst Qara cast a storm of missiles which raced towards the woman. Instead of striking, the lightning was forced around the group as if it had struck an invisible barrier, and Kail cursed under her breath. Shandra dealt a killing blow to the woman injured by Qara's spell, and as Oyo began casting another spell, Sand stepped out of the trees and used his own magic. The air around Oyo and the elf, Shahra, seemed to thicken, and both of them were held motionless in the poses they had just been in.

"I may have over-estimated your chances," said Kail, taking her dagger and pulling back the gnome's head to expose his throat. Sheer terror was in his eyes as she brought the weapon towards his head.

Before she could slit his throat, however, a strong hand grasped her wrist, pulling her away from the small man. Even when she was several feet away, the hand did not let go, though she struggled futilely against the grip.

"You cannot kill a helpless opponent," said Casavir. She hadn't realised that his hands were so strong.

"Sure I can."

"It is not an honourable thing to do, and is not befitting of a squire."

"It's also not honourable to put a _bounty_ on my head," she hissed, pulling as hard as she could against his grip. His arm did not even move with her effort.

Before he could reply, two arrows came whistling from the trees, one from the east, one from the west. With deadly precision they struck the two remaining members of Zinn's group, and their bodies remained suspended upright by Sand's spell.

"Problem solved," said Kail, feeling a flash of triumph.

"Nothing is solved. Those people could have been spared. If they had been given chance to see how greatly they were outnumbered, they would have left us in peace."

"No, they would have come back with a larger group. Didn't you hear a word Zinn said? There's a bloody _bounty_ on my head now. You might be willing to risk my life for your honour, but I sorta thought the realms needed me alive? You know, that whole chosen-one, Sword-of-Gith-in-my-chest, sacrifice-myself-against-the-King-of-Shadows situation that has so inconveniently reared its ugly head?"

"I don't doubt that you are important, but that does not mean you are above the law, that you have the right to kill."

"What? _I_ am attacked by _bounty hunters_ on _my _lands, and I don't have the right to _defend_ myself? Do you see me flaunting the law, going around killing innocent people, beating farmers to death, extorting merchants? Because that seems to be how many people in power handle things... is that how one rules?"

"I do not think this is an appropriate time for this discussion," said Casavir darkly. Kail was aware that her friends were gathering nearby, some looking worried, others afraid, others speculative. Well, this was a conversation that had been a long time in coming. Sooner or later they would have to have it, and she would rather it was sooner.

"No, I think this is the _perfect_ time for this discussion. After all, you've had a problem with my methods of handling things ever since I said we should have disposed of those orcs in Old Owl Well. Zhjaeve, assess the situation that has just occurred, and tell me how you would have ended it."

"Know that such speculation is pointless, Kalach-Cha. What is done, is done," said the githzerai.

"Assess the situation, Zhjaeve," she said through clenched teeth. Casavir was still restraining her arm, and it angered her more than she wanted to admit that she could not free herself from his grip. Not without roasting him to a cinder, anyway, and she couldn't bring herself to do that.

"In an ideal situation, Kalach-Cha, I would have arrested those mercenaries and had them imprisoned within your Keep until after our mission at Arvahn is complete. But this was not an ideal situation. Transporting prisoners back to Crossroad Keep would have wasted precious time, time which we cannot afford to waste. Furthermore, they posed a risk to your life, and such risks are unacceptable when they can be avoided. Though it is unfortunate, the situation could not have ended any other way."

"Will you stop at nothing to save your own hide?" Casavir asked in an angry whisper, pulling her closer to him so that the others were excluded from his words.

"I will stop at nothing to protect my people," she hissed back. "If that means I have to fight in hand to hand combat against the King of Shadows and his hordes of demons, then so be it. But I can't do that if I'm _dead_. So until I've completed my goal, and my people are safe, then yes, I'm going to do everything I can to stay alive. Sir Grayson can shove his bloody oaths and morals, because I'm quitting the squire game. So now you don't have to worry about me ruining the reputation of your precious knights and paladins, and you can lower your expectations of me to something a little more realistic. Now, release my arm, or you will become extremely familiar, in a painful but non-lethal way, with the RAMP." She tapped the crossbow on his armour, and a moment later he released her arm. She turned to address her friends.

"Now, would anybody else like to tell me what I can't do?" There was silence. "Wonderful. Now before we move on, I would like you to know that I would kill anybody who threatened the lives of any of you. Yes, even you, Qara. I don't expect the same in return, but I _do_ expect you to keep out of my way if I have to do things that need to be done. So now that we've established that I have very few standards, morals and ethics, and that I'm no longer a squire, let's get going. We've already wasted enough time here, and Arvahn is waiting."

Her companions dispersed into their usual small groups, and Kail motioned for Neeshka to walk at the front of the group with her. The others dropped back a little to give them some privacy.

"Did I go too far?" asked Kail.

"I don't think so. You and he are _never_ going to see eye to eye. I think most of the others understood the need for how things ended," Neeshka replied.

"You have to tell me if I go too far. And thanks. There's no telling what trouble that wizard would have caused if he'd broken through Sand's holding spell."

"I didn't kill him to protect your life," said Neeshka softly. "I did it so that you wouldn't have to."

Kail threw her arms around the tiefling, squeezing her in a tight embrace as tears moistened her eyes.

"Thank you. I can honestly say that that's the most thoughtful, selfless thing that anybody's ever done for me."

"Hey, no need to thank me," grinned Neeshka, hugging back. "It's like you said, you'd do the same for me. Besides, sometimes I think we're the only sensible ones in the whole group. We gotta stick together. Just like sisters."

"Like sisters," Kail agreed.


	60. The Ruins

_60. The Ruins_

Early the next morning, Kail led her companions to the crumbled ruins of an ancient stone gate. Some of the stone blocks still held inscriptions in the ancient language of Illefarn. She read one of them silently to herself. _Illefarn, Light of the North_, it read. Usually, the Illefarn language, an ancient derivative of elven, was quite hard to understand. It was comprised mainly of metaphors and nonsense words that had to be translated through a cypher before they made any sense. Lucas had known some of the language, and taught it to her.

"We have arrived. I can still feel the touch of Illefarn around us... and beneath us," said Zhjaeve.

"This is nothing but a pile of stones," she replied.

"It may seem that way to the eyes, but know there is power here, enough to turn the tide of the battle to come. Know that we must find the five statues of Angharradh if we are to complete the Ritual of Purification. These statues are within these ruins if our sources are true. Without undergoing the ritual we cannot defeat the King of Shadows. We must make haste. The sooner we complete the ritual, the sooner we can take the battle to our enemy."

"Wonderful."

"The first statue should be not far away... once we get close enough, I will be able to pinpoint its location precisely."

They continued forward until they heard signs of battle. Kail loaded the RAMP, and gestured for everybody to stay low as they crept forward.

"It appears we are not alone," said Casavir as they crouched at ground level. In front of them, a group of orcs were fighting a group of ogres and goblins. Kail nodded.

"And they're fighting each other, which means we don't have to risk our lives getting rid of them."

Casavir seemed to have forgiven her for her rant of the previous day. At least, he hadn't said anything about it, so she guessed he finally understood that _she_ was in charge.

The orcs emerged victorious from the fight, and what was left of them moved off, no doubt to find more victims.

"Kalach-Cha, know that we are very close to one of the statues of Angharradh," said Zhjaeve.

"Where? I don't see anything but ruins and trees. Is it possible that the statue has been destroyed?"

"Possible, but unlikely. It would require a tremendous amount of energy for one to be broken. It is more likely that the statue is hidden, possibly underground."

"There's something large over here," called Grobnar, pulling ivy away from a rock face. Elanee and Khelgar began to help him, and Kail noticed that the bottom of the statue was worked into the shape of feet. Uncovering the rest of the rock revealed the statue of an elven woman, her hands clasped in front of her, and her face grim.

"The first statue," said Zhjaeve. "Are you ready to begin the Ritual of Purification, Kalach-Cha?"

_No, I'm not ready. I don't want to be here, doing this, saving the world. I want to be at home with my foster father, training with Lucas, helping Bevil with his militia training, listening to Tarmas complain about swamp mud on his robes. I want to be a normal woman with a normal life. I don't want all this responsibility, I don't want Crossroad Keep, I don't want to be in Nasher's service. I want to go home._

"I'm ready," she said. "What do I do?"

"That I do not know, Kalach-Cha. I have never heard of the ritual being done before. You must learn the next part on your own."

Kail approached the statue, and looked over it again. It was a decent work of art, though she had seen better. How could a statue be part of a ritual? Unless the statue was also a magical artifact. Perhaps it had power of its own. But she couldn't _sense_ any power about it. Strange...

She reached out and touched the base of the statue, and without warning, the woman's eyes came to life. They glowed with a bright blue light, and a thrumming sound permeated the air, as if energy was building up nearby.

"In ancient times, the Guardian was created to protect Illefarn." Kail covered her ears at the loudness of the voice. The statue had spoken without even moving its lips! Then she realised that covering her ears was useless. She was not hearing words that were spoken and heard, she was hearing words that were being put directly in her mind. "If the time has come to dismantle our Great Instrument, you will be an agent of its destruction. Take this Blessing of Camaraderie. May its power strike down all who oppose you and your allies."

The thrumming sound grew louder and faster, and without warning, a brilliant white light shot out from the statue, encompassing Kail in a circle. She felt the light break apart into hundreds of small lights, which began to pass _through_ her. Faster and faster they travelled, and then as abruptly as it had started, it ended.

"The first part of the ritual is complete," said Zhjaeve. "Our enemy's home is everywhere darkness lies. Know that though the armies of the King of Shadows may become legion, this ritual may still be used to drive him back."

Kail looked around at her friends. They seemed to be glowing. So did the trees, and the ground, and the sky above. She giggled, took a step forward, and fell over.

"Look at them," she said, pointing at the sky as her friends crowded around her.

"What's wrong with her?" Casavir asked Zhjaeve.

"I do not know. I suspect that the ritual was perhaps just a little overwhelming. Know that the ritual was designed to be used by somebody from the ancient city of Illefarn long ago. The people of this world may have changed somewhat since the ritual was originally created."

"Kail, how many fingers am I holding up?" asked Grobnar, holding up his hand as Kail grinned madly at the sky.

"That's always a trick question. I say 'five' and you say 'no, my thumb isn't a finger'. Ask me something else instead, like why the sky is purple and the clouds are green."

"Alright lass, time to get up," said Khelgar. He hauled her to her feet and she stood unsteadily.

"Look," she said, waving her hand slowly in front of her face. "I can see my hand moving."

"She is _not_ doing any more of these rituals," said Neeshka vehemently. "They're turning her into an idiot!"

"And we already have one of those," said Qara. "Two of Grobnar would be a nightmare."

"What if these rituals destroy who she is completely? What if when she's done them all, there's nothing left of Kail?" Elanee asked.

"Know that there is nothing said about the rituals that indicates destructive power. I am confidant that this effect will wear off, in time."

"It's not your fault," said Kail, patting Khelgar on the shoulder. "It's everybody else's problem, for being too tall."

"Great," said Bishop. "And until they _do_ wear off, we have to deal with a gibbering lunatic."

"Hey!" Kail protested. "I'm not gibbering!" She took another step, and fell over again.

o - o - o - o - o

"Are you _sure_ you're alright?" Shandra asked for the fifth time since Kail had recovered her senses.

"Yes, I told you, I'm fine. I'm incredibly tired and and could do with a cold ale and a hot bath, and you know, not having shards of metal in my chest, but apart from that, I'm good."

"And the sky is..?"

"Blue."

"Good. I much prefer you sarastic and coherent to seeing purple skies and trying to listen to messages from 'the little pixie people'."

Kail had the grace to look slightly embarrassed at that one.

"Look. That ritual did something to me. It made part of me be... not here, for a while. It was somewhere else. Wherever I was, the sky was purple."

"Is this the same place where the little pixie people lived?" asked Grobnar, poised with his notepad.

"Yes, Grobnar," she sighed.

"Orcs!" said Khelgar, dropping to the ground. Kail approached his position crouched low, and examined the scene. It was indeed a group of orcs. They had set up their camp by the side of the road, and looked like they'd been there for quite some time.

"We must pass them, to get to the next statue," said Zhjaeve.

"Alright. Let's go and see what they're doing here." She stood and made her way towards the camp, ignoring the cries of her friends. They'd follow her. She knew they would. They wouldn't let her face orcs alone. Well, most of them wouldn't.

The orcs saw her approach, and began arming themselves. Some of them took a threatening step forward, but none actually attacked outright. She counted this as a good sign.

"You! I know you!" said the largest orc in the camp. "I am Unthanck, and you are the one who slew my brother Logram at Old Owl Well! I should kill you for that."

"Logram was stupid and arrogant enough to get himself killed. Will you be the same?"

"Hnh. There is power in numbers, in strength... and in knowing when to fight. In this, my brother was weak. He was a strong warrior, but too proud and stupid for his own good."

"But you are smarter?" As she spoke, she heard her friends catch up to her. Well it was about time! She could have been killed by now!

"I know you aren't here to claim this land for Neverwinter. You want something in these ruins, yes? I want Ghellu out of Riverguard Keep. The ogre mage taunts me from inside, and my orcs are too dumb to ignore him. Swear to pluck this thorn from my side and the Corpsewalker Clan will leave you in peace."

"Leave me in peace? I was attacked by orcs earlier."

"Corpsewalker berserkers are dangerous to all when they are in the bloodrage. Regretfully, we are often forced to slay them when they wander back to camp.

"Alright then. I'll deal with this... Ghellu problem for you."

"May Gruumsh grant you victory or a swift, painless death."

"And may Shaundakul not destroy your camp with strong winds and foul rain."

The orcs relaxed a little at a gesture from Unthanck, and Kail and her companions were allowed to pass through the camp without any hostility.

"I'm not so sure about this. Making deals with orcs... it just doesn't sit right," said Casavir.

"Rest assured that had they a bounty on my head to collect, I would have slaughtered them to the last. As it is, fighting takes up too much time. I want to get these rituals over and done with, and get out of here. I don't like this place... it gives me the creeps."

"The dead are restless here," said Bishop, swivelling his head from side to side as if he could see things hidden in the trees.

"What makes you say that?" asked Casavir. "I sense no undead." Instead of answering, Bishop merely gave him a condescending smile.

"Undead or not, I have business to take care of. Zhjaeve, where is the next statue?"

o - o - o - o - o

"Are you sure this is the place?" Kail asked. The ancient temple looked decrepit, and long abandoned.

"Of course, Kalach-Cha."

"Then let's see what's inside."

The temple was larger than it had seemed from the outside. The main hall held two doors, one of which was locked, and could not be opened as much as Neeshka tried, and another that stood open. There was also a statue of four warriors in the middle of the floor, which Kail examined more closely. She came across a plaque written in elvish, and read it aloud for the others to hear.

"The Temple of Seasons is dedcated to the veneration of Elythyn, Vigar, Bluecloak and Beleran, four knighted heroes of the united kingdom of Illefarn. They gave their lives that their kin might live in peace and accord. Across our lands, we honour each in turn at the hearts of their seasons. Within these halls, we honour them forever."

"Here's something else," said Bishop, reaching over her shoulder to indicate another, smaller, plaque. "'In this, the hundred-and-tenth year of the Guardian, this temple underwent renovation to house and protect a Statue of Purification. As the four knights long ago guarded our last hopes in life, may they do so once more in death'. And then there's a few runes."

"You speak elvish?" Kail asked, turning in surprise.

"I'm a multi-cultural kinda guy."

"Those aren't just 'a few runes', lad," said Khelgar, pushing past the pair to examine the plaque. "Those are dwarven runes. Says 'Annaeus'. Well, it's not a word... must be the name of the man who wrote it. I wonder why a dwarf would dedicate a plaque in elvish, though."

"In Illefarn, elves and dwarves lived in peace and harmony. They often spoke, and wrote, each others languages, independent of the official shared Illefarn language," said Elanee.

"I guess we can expect some violence, then, if the statue here is protected by these guardians," said Kail. "Should we see what's behind door number one?" She pointed to the open door, and Khelgar hurried through, determined to get in the first punch.

A book on a pedestal occupied the otherwise empty room, and they crowded around Kail as she read out the writing on the page. It was a miracle that the book hadn't turned to dust throughout the years. It was probably magically preserved, she realised.

"Vigar of Stone Hearth was the lone dwarven hero of the Knights of the Seasons. In the company's most difficult battles, he was the last to leave the field. In the final struggle against the Great Evil, Vigar was the last to fall, enduring an onslaught of blows before finally succumbing. In his sacrifice, he bought time for all the citizens of Illefarn. Winter's challenge is enduring the cold. Turning the page will begin the trial."

"I'm ready when you are, lass," said Khelgar, his eyes gleaming as he gripped his axe.

"I think we should spread out a little bit first. Make ourselves less of one big target," she replied. Her companions space themselves evenly apart, and when they indicated that they were ready, she turned the page.

As if by magic, the room turned to ice, and she felt her feet slipping beneath her. She grabbed hold of the pedestal to secure her footing, and noticed that her friends weren't doing much better than her. Neeshka had managed to keep her balance, and was shooting at a large white winter wolf that had been magically conjured out of thin air. Bishop was in the process of quickly regaining his balance too, and both Elanee and Sand had managed to stay upright, and were even now casting spells.

Kail hurried over to Shandra -- slipping and sliding just a little -- and helped up the poor woman who was flailing on her back like a turtle. She left Shandra to deal with a mephit that was making a nuisance of itself, and turned to Khelgar. It took a few heaves before she managed to get the dwarf upright, but once on his feet, he stayed there.

Casavir was also down, and being harassed by another winter wolf. Kail emptied the RAMP into the animal, and offered her hand to Casavir. He took it, but her foot slipped on blood that was pooling around the wolf's corpse, and she toppled backwards, dragging Casavir with her.

"Are you alright, my lady?" asked Casavir, all but lying on top of her.

"Just a little winded," she managed to say. No doubt their position looked _highly_ inappropriate. On the verge of saying something, she yelped instead when the coldness of the icy floor passed through her clothes and hit her skin. "Get up, get up, it's cold!" she said, all but pushing Casavir off her to get away from the ice.

Just as she managed to haul herself to her feet, the ice disappeared, replaced with normal rock. Everybody else had managed to get to their feet themselves, or been helped by the others.

"Well," she said, trying to straighten errant strands of hair which fell into her face. "That was fun. I _do_ so hope that all the other challenges are as enjoyable as freezing my-"

"Kalach-Cha. A door has been opened."

She looked to where Zhjaeve pointed, and saw that the door on the other side of the room had, indeed, been unlocked.

o - o - o - o - o

"I don't like Illefarn," said Kail, rubbing an aching arm where, two rooms ago, a huge iron golem had smashed its fist into her.

"The creators of the ritual had to make the trials difficult, Kalach-Cha. Then only one worthy of attaining the ritual would do so. They did not want the power of the ritual to be abused, or taken by their enemies."

"That doesn't mean I have to like it. But as long as they need me to be worthy, I guess I'll keep jumping through their hoops."

"What is this place?" Shandra asked, looking around the room they had just entered. "It looks like... a tomb."

"These are knights who fell in battle in service to their people... their countries," said Casavir. "This is a great memorial... yet somehow it doesn't feel it enough to contain them."

"Are you alright?" she asked, knowing that he tended to get a little... strange... around the dead. All holy and introspective, or whatever.

"Is this how all noble deeds end?"_ Pretty much. _"Does any worthy cause last only as long as there are those to fight for it... and die for it_?_" _That's about it_. "And what if there is no one left who believes in such things? Such sacrifice was rarely seen when I lived upon the streets of Neverwinter... and even rarer elsewhere."

"But it is easily seen in you, Casavir."

"And your words honour me," he said, giving her a wan smile. "But I do not know the truth of them. Perhaps one day we shall see. I ask this... If I fall in battle, I would like to be buried here, in this temple. It is quiet, few visit here... and I have many questions I would ask those buried here. I need to know if what we do makes a difference... but only after I no longer have a choice in life."

"Okay. Just make sure you don't die any time soon, alright?"

"I'll try my best, my lady. Though I am curious... have you made any plans for when you pass on from this life?"

"No. I intend to live forever," she smiled. _Or at least until I've made sure this King of Shadows will never hurt the people of West Harbor ever again._

"I wish you luck, with that. Though the gods often frown on mortals who try to avoid their fates."

"Perhaps. When I die, my soul is spoken for. What happens to my body... I don't care. I'll be long gone by then. I hope some adventurer comes across it and robs it of all that I own," she said with a laugh. After all, it's what she would have done.

"That is a rather... bleak outlook, if you don't mind me saying?"

"In what way? I won't need my body anymore. I hope somebody can make use of it, when I no longer can. I hope someone takes everything I have and puts them to good use. I hope I decompose, just like everything else, and end up becoming plant food. I don't want my body to turn to dust inside some musty old tomb... it's not natural. It feels like cheating."

"Cheating? In what way?"

"Well, we're all made up of dead stuff. Animals die, leaves fall, they decompose, over time become part of the soil, and nourish plants and trees which grow in them. In turn the plants and trees are eaten by animals, which then die, thus completing the great circle of life. By letting my body rot in some stone coffin, I'm cheating that circle. I'm no longer part of it."

"That is a very wise philosophy, and one which many druids also follow," said Elanee. "Even in death, we can give life. We return to the earth which nurtures us, and in turn we nurture others."

"This is such a cheerful topic of conversation," said Shandra, rolling her eyes.

"Ooh look, a statue!" said Grobnar. He immediately turned to Kail and took out his notebook. "Now remember, if the little pixie people try to communicate again, tell me everything they say so that I can write it down."

As before, Kail approached the statue, and touched the base. The woman's eyes began to glow, and a familiar voice resounded inside her head.

"In ancient times, the Guardian was created to protect Illefarn. If the time has come to dismantle our Great Instrument, you will be an agent of its destruction. Take this Blessing of Cleansing. May it burn away the darkness in your travels." White light began again to spread out around Kail, before moving through her.

"The second part of the ritual is complete," said Zhjaeve. "Feel the power of Illefarn fill you - and see what it is you stand against. He knows... he knows what we are doing! But you have learned how to place the power of this ritual between you and him, like a barrier. And if he attempts to break it, he will only wound himself."

"Great. Wound himself. Wonderful," said Kail as her vision began to blur. Then everything went black.


	61. Campfire Talk

_61. Campfire Talk_

"Illefarn hates me," said Kail, sitting up beside the fire.

"You're paranoid," replied Shandra.

"I'm also noticing a distinct lack of anybody else." They appeared to be camped outside a tall building, not the Temple of Seasons, but a different building, one that she had never seen before. It was either late night or early morning, and apart from Shandra, the camp was empty. Then she noticed a pile of corpses, heaped a short distance away from the fire.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Oh. Well. After you decided to take a little nap, Zhjaeve said that we should continue on to the next statue. Because of time being precious and all that. So we got here and found a whole group of goblins and ogres sitting here twiddling their thumbs. Casavir tried to talk to them, like you talked to Unthanck, but they weren't having any of it. They attacked us, and ended up on the losing side. Then Zhjaeve made everyone go inside and start clearing a path to the next statue. That woman is a slave driver, by the way. She only let me stay behind to take care of you. Otherwise I'd be in there right now."

"She doesn't waste any time, does she? How long have I been out of it for?"

"A few hours. Casavir carried you here. I almost had to beat him with a stick to make him leave you alone with me. He likes you, you know."

"I know," said Kail, lying back and crossing her arms behind her head. The stars were beautiful out here, away from the ambient glow of the city lights.

"But?"

"But what?"

"But you don't like him?"

"I don't _dislike_ him. It's just... he expects things of me. He has me on this pedestal and it feels like every time I do something that he doesn't approve of, I'm letting him down or something. I don't want people to have expectations of me. I don't want to have to try to uphold some warped image they have of me. I just want to be me. Casavir's nice, but he's all about honour and duty. I really don't see anything fun in that. I've learnt recently that the more power you have, the less free you are. Just look at Nasher, for example. You'd think being the ruler of a powerful city would mean you have more freedom than any of its citizens. But the responsibilities are enormous. Almost anybody in Neverwinter could just pack a bag and leave, go anywhere they want, any time they want. Nasher can't do that. He's trapped as surely as if he was in prison."

"Do you always have such a gloomy view of things?"

"Usually, yes. By the way, I never got chance to properly thank you for Solace Glade. I don't think I could have survived those three assassins on my own."

"Don't think I missed that crafty change of subject. But you're welcome," smiled Shandra. "I'm just glad that I could help you like you've helped me."

"What was your dream about?"

"My what?"

"You know, your dream. On the night that the King of Shadows tried to get into our dreams. What was yours about?"

"Oh. Well... you know. Stuff. Have the others told you about their dreams?"

"No, I haven't asked them, and I won't. It's personal. You don't have to tell me either if you don't want."

"Well... I don't mind. I dreamt about the man I loved. He went off to fight in the war against Luskan and never came back. What about you?"

"The man I loved went off to serve his god, and never came back."

"Is that what you dreamt about?"

"No, I dreamt about... a friend. My closest friend who died during the attack on West Harbor. She was only nineteen."

"I'm sorry. It's horrible to lose a friend, isn't it?"

"Yes," she sighed. "For a while, I didn't want to make any more friends. I didn't want to get close to people, only to lose them. When Khelgar asked to join me on my journey, I almost said no. I'm glad I didn't."

"So am I. And you don't have to worry about me, I'm not going anywhere," smiled Shandra. "Now that you're awake, do you want to go into the tower and find the others?" Kail was silent for a moment, considering.

"No. They can handle things for the moment. Let's just sit out here and enjoy the stars. They'll come back for us, when they're ready."

o - o - o - o - o

"My, what a big ogre mage!" whispered Grobnar.

Neeshka nodded. From what she could see, it was a big ogre mage and two of his big ogre friends. And a horde of little goblins, too.

"Don't forget, we're two fighters down," Elanee whispered.

"Perhaps we should talk to the ogre," said Casavir. "If he is a mage, then surely he possesses no small intelligence.

"They are trying to reach the statue of Angharaddh," said Zhjaeve, pointing to a door upon which goblins were sacrificing themselves. Every time one of the goblins ran at the door, it was zapped with a terminal dose of electricity.

"There are over a dozen of you, and you cannot figure out how to overcome the enchantment?" boomed the ogre to one of the goblins.

"The spell is weakened, but still potent," said a goblin. "If we sacrifice seven, maybe eight more to the trap, it should be enough to dispel-"

"Under normal circumstances, I would demand such terrible sacrifices. However, as Unthanck and his idiotic orcs are camped not far away..."

"Give us more time, Ghellu."

"What choice do I have? Quickness requires competence, and you have none. Get out of my sight." The goblin scurried away.

"We cannot let them have the statue," said Zhjaeve firmly. Her eyes seemed to be glowing brightly in the dim candlelight.

"I could sneak around to the back of the room," Neeshka suggested. "Then, when ogre-guy is least expecting it..." she tensed her bowstring in demonstration. "Meanwhile, the rest of you can be preparing some nice spells. Or in the case of Khelgar, getting ready to rush on into the fight without due cause for his own personal safety."

"Now that sounds like my sorta fight!" said Khelgar.

"Zhjaeve and I will use Sanctuary, and reach the other side of the room. That way, we can hit them from three sides, and have a strategic advantage," said Elanee. Zhjaeve nodded, accepting the elf's proposal.

"Alright," Neeshka replied. "We'll sneak around to our places, give it a count of a hundred, then the signal to attack can be Khelgar rushing into the room."

When everybody agreed to the plan, Elanee and Zhjaeve cast their spells upon themselves. Almost instantly they became invisible and non-detectable. When she was sure that they were making their way around the room, she pressed her body into the shadows and began her own approach. After only a few steps she heard soft sounds behind her, and turned to find Bishop's golden eyes on her back as he followed her. She raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"Like I'm going to stand with the rest of the arrow-fodder," he said quietly. She nodded, and turned her attention back to the shadows.

The ogres had obviously been here for quite some time. There were old supply crates littered around the sides of the room, and in typical ogre fasion, the place was dark and smelled bad. These were perfect conditions for a thief; odours to cover your scent, obstacles to duck behind, poor lighting to cast plenty of shadows... even Casavir couldn't have failed to sneak anywhere like this. Well, maybe not.

She found a place behind a stack of empty crates, and sat back to string an arrow onto her bow. Her mental count was only at forty; had she wished, she could have moved much faster, but she wanted to give everybody else, especially the mages, time to prepare. The ogres were engaged in a conversation with each other, their deep voices rumbling in their unfamiliar language. From a side corridor, she heard chanting in a higher-pitched voice. No doubt the goblins were trying to magic their way to the statue. Confident that there was enough background noise to conceal a whisper, she turned her head to regard Bishop as he too settled down and removed an arrow from his quiver.

"Do you know what you did?" she asked him.

"What I did?"

She gave him her best 'don't pretend to be an idiot' look, and he shrugged.

"Pissed Sir Tinhead off. What about you? I didn't figure mercy-killing to be high on your agenda."

"Guess that's something we have in common then." _Fifty five_.

"Guess so."

"I know a few assassins," she said after a moment of silence.

"Is that so?"

"They're very, very good at what they do."

"Most are," he replied. His gaze was fixed on the ogres standing not twenty paces away.

"They owe me a couple of personal favours, which I can cash in at any time. So if, for example, somebody was to hurt Kail, I would make sure that that somebody spent the last few days of their life constantly on guard, never knowing from which direction the poisoned blade was coming. Then they would die a long, slow, agonising death." _Seventy._

"I see."

"I'm glad we understand each other." She loaded a second arrow onto her bow. It was a new tactic she had been developing during her spare time at the Keep. She wasn't quite as accurate with two arrows as with one, but when she _did_ hit, she was twice as deadly. In her head, she reached one hundred, and right on cue, Khelgar and Casavir rushed into the room, catching the ogres' attention. From the opposite side of the room, the air wavered, revealing Elanee and Zhjaeve who kept the nearby goblin horde occupied. Neeshka smiled, stood up, and released her bowstring. She was immensely satisfied when both arrows hit the ogre mage she had aimed at.

o - o - o - o - o

"Tell me about this man who left you," said Shandra, relaxing back by the campfire. She half expected Kail to tell her to shove off, but instead she was silent for a moment, as if considering the request.

"His name was Valear," she said at last. "He lived with his people, the wild elves."

"Wild elves?"

"Yeah. They're not really like other elves. They're tribal by nature, often nomadic. They move around a lot, though most of them have some sort of 'ancestral ground' which they consider sacred, even if they don't live there all the time. They're not much into reading and writing, and they prefer to live off the land rather than to form civilisations and build cities. They're excellent hunters, though a lot of other elves consider them to be uncivilised."

"There are wild elves in the Mere?"

"No. They lived somewhat north-east of the Mere... I travelled to see them once or twice a year."

"Isn't Elanee from the Mere, though?"

"Yes, but she's not a wild elf, she's a wood elf. The differences between them seem few to non-elven people, but they're there. From what Elanee's told me, she was raised by the druids of the Mere after she was found there, orphaned as a child by a battle between her people and orcs."

"So how did you meet these wild elves?" she asked, fascinated by this side of the cagey young woman who rarely spoke about herself.

"My foster father, Daeghun, was raised by them. He's never told me the whole story, but I think he has kin amongst them. They raised him, taught him their ways. Then he left to have adventures or whatever. He met up with Lucas, and Shayla, who was his wife. Together with Duncan, and my mother, they travelled the length and breadth of the Sword Coast. At least, that's what I can gather from the few things that Duncan and Lucas have told me. Daeghun never really talked about that time much... I think it made him too sad to remember it."

"It's a shame he never talked to you about it. But spill the beans on this Valear guy!"

"He was the first and only man I've ever loved," Kail sighed. "To cut a long story short, one day he decided that Shaundakul was calling him into service, and he left."

"Shaundakul? I don't think I've heard of him."

"Yeah, not a lot of people have. He's not big on temples. He used to be heavily worshipped in Myth Drannor, before it fell into darkness. Since the end of the Godswar, he's taken up residency there again, trying to reclaim the city back from the undead and the demons. Valear left to join the Knights of the Shadow Sword."

"Do all wild elves worship Shaundakul?"

"No," Kail smiled. "Most worship the elven gods, especially Corellon. But Valear always liked to be different. And Shaundakul is protective of travellers, so I guess it kinda makes sense for some of the wild elves to worship him."

"Didn't you ever feel like going with him, or at least chasing after him?"

"Of course. But Daeghun was hardly going to let his adopted daughter go off on a fifteen-hundred mile trek to a decrepit city of ancient evil. Besides, I wasn't ready to leave."

"What changed?"

"I had no choice. Whilst I was in West Harbor, my presence... or as I thought at the time, the presence of the shard... endangered by people. Leaving was the only way to keep them safe. If it wasn't for that, I'll probably still be there now."

"None of this is your fault, you know."

"I know," said Kail, looking at her quizzically.

"Good. I was just making sure. I don't want you moping around and blaming yourself for things that you didn't cause. I don't even blame you for my house being burnt down anymore."

"Thanks Shandra, I appreciate it. So... tell me about this man who left you."

o - o - o - o - o

Neeshka picked over the ogre-mage's corpse as everybody else gathered by the door which the goblins had tried to breach. Ah, a shiny ring! She plucked the oversized object from the ogre's hand and slipped it into a pouch at her belt. It probably wasn't a magic ring -- nobody made ogre-sized enchanted rings -- but it looked to be gold, and she could easily fence it for a couple of hundred back in Neverwinter.

"...don't think it would be a good idea to touch that, Grobnar," she heard Elanee say.

"Ouch!" said the gnome. His cry was accompanied by an electrical sound. Content that the ogres had no more valuables on them, she made her way to the group.

"Only the Master of this Keep my pass through this door," said Zhjaeve.

"How do you know that?" she asked.

"Upstairs, when we entered the Keep, there was a statue of a sleeping woman, and it bore a plaque that said 'Master of the Keep'. It appeared that several object had been removed from the statue. I suspect these were protective, and that we will need them to pass this door."

"What, these items?" she asked, rummaging in her pack and producing a sword, a shield and a sceptre. Everybody looked at her. "They were shiny, and I like picking things up," she shrugged. "Who wants to try?"

"I will," said Zhjaeve. She strapped the shield onto the githzerai's arm, and handed her both the sword and the sceptre. "Know that you may wish to stand back, in case this does not work."

Everybody took five spaces back, and Zhjaeve approached the door. She leaned her weight against it, and it gave way easily before her.

"That was something of an anti-climax," said Grobnar.

"You were expect something else?" asked Sand.

"Maybe a little magic, or some crackling as the magical protections were unravelled, or a booming voice that says..."

"The third statue is through here," said Zhjave as she removed the shield and put the sword and the sceptre behind the door. "We must fetch Kail."

"I'll go," said Casavir, and set off without even waiting for anyone else to speak. Bishop grinned, and sat on the floor with his back against the wall. Neeshka merely shook her head. Those two were like _children_.

"Get a move on, goat-girl," said Khelgar, prodding her in the back. "Yer blocking the doorway."

"I was just checking the room for traps, moss-breath," she replied.

"Are you sure that Kail can withstand another encounter with a statue so soon after her last one?" Elanee asked Zhjaeve. "I dread to think how much they are taking out of her, if they cause her to become unconscious."

"Know that the Kalach-Cha is strong enough endure all that will be required of her. _Believe_ it, and she too will come to believe it. If you doubt her, then your doubts will become her doubts."

"What do these statues do, exactly?" said Qara, examining the third statue closely. "I mean, apart from turning people into idiots, or making them pass out. This is the Ritual of Purification, right? Does that mean it's cleansing Kail of something? Like a religious thing?"

"No. The 'Purification' refers not to the one who undergoes the ritual, but its intended target; The King of Shadows. The Rituals are embuing Kail with certain abilities that will benefit her during her battle against the King of Shadows."

"Whoa, wait just one minute," said Neeshka. "These rituals are _changing_ Kail in some way? Giving her new powers or something?"

"Or something."

"And did she _know_ about this before she activated the first statue?"

"Not likely. Know that even I am unsure about the extent of the abilities conveyed by the ritual. The Kalach-Cha knows that the Ritual is required to defeat the King of Shadows, but little more than that. There is little more I can tell her."

"Great," she groaned.

"Is there a problem?" Zhjaeve asked, calm as ever.

"Oh no, no problem." She sank to the floor beside the statue, resting her head back against its feet. She doubted that Kail would be very happy when she learnt that she had gained even _more_ powers and abilities without first being consulted.

o - o - o - o - o

"...and that's about it," Shandra finished. "I just got on with life on my farm and tried not to think about him too much."

Kail nodded in sympathy. She had felt the same way, after she had gotten over her initial anger of Valear leaving, and almost burning down her father's home. It was... easier, to forget. To not have to think. Part of her wished she could wipe clean her memory of Valear and their time together. But another part of her wouldn't have given it up for the world.

There was a rustle of movement in the undergrowth, and Kail's weapons were in her hands in the time it took to blink. She relaxed when Karnwyr stepped out of the bushes and trotted over to her to rest his head against her knee. She smiled, put her blades away, and ran her hand over his head.

"Oh well, it was nice to have a break while it lasted. Time for me to get back to reality, I suppose," she said, standing and kicking soil over the campfire. The she and Shandra made their way into the tower, whilst the wolf slipped away into the undergrowth again.

There were two doors inside the entrance hall, and Kail chose one at random. Silence reigned throughout the place. Wherever her friends were, they weren't within audible range.

"How are we going to find them?" asked Shandra. "For all we know, this place could be a maze."

"We could just follow these," she replied, pointing to something on the floor. Shandra smiled and nodded, and they both moved on, passing the blood-drenched goblin corpse.

"How are you feeling?" Shandra asked.

"I'm fine," she lied. Her body was already protesting being up on its feet; it wanted nothing more than a good two days in a warm, comfortable bed, and a large plate of Sal's finest cooking. "Though I think I could do with a bath."

"Couldn't we all," grinned Shandra.

"Here's something different," she said, crouching by a larger corpse in another room. "Bugbears. I wonder what they're doing here."

"I'd say generally being dead."

"Why, Shandra Jerro, that sounded almost like a joke!"

"Hmph. Let's not get carried away."

"Anyway, I suppose the bugbears could have been here as mercenaries, or something. I've seen them working with ogres before."

"Kail! Shandra! You should not be here alone," came a voice from further down the corridor. She looked up to see Casavir hurrying their way.

"Sure. Because, you know, bugbear corpses pose a real threat to us," she replied coolly. Shandra snickered.

"What I meant is, you could quite easily become lost in the place, and Neeshka is not entirely certain that she has found all the traps," he elaborated.

"Alright, lead on, then. I've gotta do the statue thing, see what interesting effects I get _this_ time."

Casavir nodded, and they followed him down a series of corridors. He led them to a flight of stairs, and they descended into what was apparently a basement. Before long, Kail began to hear voices, and as Casavir turned a corner, her friends jumped up to greet her. Well, some of them did. Zhjaeve merely stood there looking... knowing. Sand gave her a small smile, and Bishop didn't bother moving from his place on the floor. Qara merely yawned, and turned to regard the statue.

"I'm glad you're okay," said Neeshka, giving her a tight hug.

"Me too, lass," said Khelgar.

"I'm pleased that you're recovered from your... experience," said Elanee warmly. "There is no need to go through that again so soon. If you wish, we can wait a while before you perform the next ritual."

"Know that the longer we wait, the more difficult will be the battle ahead," said Zhjaeve. Elanee gave her a dark scowl.

"No, I'd better this this over with," she replied before they could start arguing over it. "The sooner, the better."

She stepped away from her friends, and activated the statue. As before, a voice spoke out from its unmoving lips.

"In ancient times, the Guardian was created to protect Illefarn. If the time has come to dismantle our Great Instrument, you will be an agent of its destruction. Take this Blessing of Protection. May it guard you against the forces of darkness."

Familiar lights spread out around her, performing their strange dance as they circled around, and then through her. She shivered when she felt them passing through her flesh, though they weren't a physical thing, and it didn't hurt, exactly.

"The third part of the ritual is complete," said Zhjaeve. "Each part of the ritual prepares you for what is to come. Our enemy wears many forms, but all of them are darkness. Know that when you surround yourself with the power this ritual bestows, you can protect yourself from his reach. Keep this shield close in the dark places in which we walk."

The lights faded, and for once, Kail did not lose control of her mental faculties. The world did not change colours, or fade to blackness. Perhaps her body was becoming accustomed to these strange rituals.

"How do you feel?" Neeshka asked, approaching worriedly. "Any little pixie people?"

"No, no little pixie people. No strange colours, no fainting... I feel normal." _As normal as a part-dragon grand-daughter of Bhaal with a piece of Gith's extra-planar sword lodged in her chest _can_ feel_, she thought. "Zhjaeve, which way to the next statue?"

"It is not far, Kalach-Cha. It is not far at all, though I suspect it may be difficult to reach," the githzerai cleric said cryptically.

"Let me worry about that. You just lead me there. I'll do the rest."

Zhjaeve nodded, and led the group out of the tower.

After a moment, Kail returned for Ghellu's head.


	62. Tales of the Guardian

_62. Tales of the Guardian_

Kail sauntered into the orc camp, her companions following warily behind her. No doubt they didn't trust the orcs. Neither did she, but she had bigger things than orcs to worry about.

_Like how I'm going to tell Nasher that I'm not going to jump through the squire hoops anymore. Perhaps I'll write him a note, or something. Or I could just tell Nevalle to pass the message on. Maybe that'll work._

"Is Ghellu dead? Can my tribe reclaim the Keep?" asked Unthanck when she found him. For an answer, she took out from her backpack a bundle of material. She unrolled it, exposing its contents, and held the head of the dead ogre mage for Unthanck to see. "Excellent! You have earned permission to walk my lands freely. Corpsewalkers, let this one be known as a sister of our clan!"

The rest of the orcs let out a cheer, then Unthanck led them off in the direction of the Keep, still carrying Ghellu's head. Kail watched them leave, and noticed her companions relax visibly as the last orc disappeared from sight.

"I guess it's something to put on my grave marker," she quipped in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Kail Farlong; Kalach-Cha, Hero of Neverwinter, Former Squire, Sister of the Corpsewalker clan." _Perhaps Nasher will fire me for this._

"The statue is this way, Kalach-Cha," said Zhjaeve, pointing to another path that lead away from the camp.

"Lead on."

Zhjaeve took them unerringly to yet another building. This one seemed too small to house a statue in it, but the reason for its small size soon became apparent. The building was nothing but a vestibule which covered stairs leading down into a mine. Khelgar was immediately happier at the prospect of heading underground. The place was obviously long-abandoned. It smelt musty, like old books and older dust, and it was deathly silent.

"That's something I don't understand," she mused aloud to both Zhjaeve and Elanee. "In any normal circumstances, a civilisation as old and abandoned as this one would quickly have disappeared under the onslaught of animal habitation and vegetation encroachment. But the trees have barely even started their succession into this place, and I haven't seen any wild creatures since we arrived. No birds, no rabbits, no rats, or bats... I've not even seen any insects. This place should be a _haven_ for animals."

"The memory of Illefarn still lingers here," said Zhjaeve.

"And the land remembers something of the Shadow's presence," Elanee added.

"I told you," said Bishop, "the dead are restless here, and animals don't like the restless dead."

"And as I said before," said Casavir, "I sense no undead nearby."

"The dust upon the floor stirs beneath your feet... what brings one of flesh and blood to this empire of spirits?" asked a disembodied voice. Kail narrowed her eyes, and could just about make out the barely viable image of an elven male, stood between ancient bookshelves. She felt goose bumps rise on her skin. Though she had seen undead before, she knew this... this... person, was no mere zombie or magically re-animated corpse. He was a spirit, possessed of all his mental faculties. He wasn't undead, he was just... not-dead. But also not-alive. Bishop gave Casavir his best condescending 'I told you so' look.

"I'm looking for the Statue of Purification," she said when she remembered the spirit had asked her a question.

"Has the Guardian returned then? I heard the whispers, but I did not believe. His echoes are strong in this place, and the tides of spirits ebb and flow, signifying little."

"What? You know about the Guardian? Who are you, and what do you know about him?" she asked, stepping forward. Here was somebody who might _finally_ give her some actual information. She would have given her left arm for some information about the Guardian, the King of Shadows, and her right for a tactical advantage against him."

"I am simply Balaur," said the spirit. "I tend the archives. The Guardian was once a man, a hero of Illefarn, in days long gone. He _saw_ more clearly than most. He saw the threats that might destroy all we had built, and he sacrificed everything, that our empire might live. A creature of magic he became, and an extension of the very Weave. Our enemies, the men of Netheril, feared to face him, so they turned their eyes to weaker prey. By the Guardian's sacrifice, Illefarn was saved."

"What went wrong?" From the corner of her vision she saw Grobnar scribbling notes in his book. Good. She didn't want to miss a single _thing_, and it would be useful to go over everything again later with him, and maybe with Sand and Zhjaeve as well.

"We thought the Weave eternal, an endless font of life from which the Guardian might draw. In this, we were wrong. The Weave failed, and the Guardian faced a choice; allow himself to die, and leave Illefarn undefended, or draw his life from another source. For the sake of his people, the Guardian turned to the Weave's dark twin. And thus, he became a creature of Shadow." _The Shadow Weave? I'll _definitely_ be speaking to Sand about that later._

"Well, now your Guardian is back, and he must be stopped," she said.

"So our leaders also believed," Balaur said with a small bow of his head. "They devised the Ritual of Purification, that we might weaken the Guardian. The words were recorded upon five statues. One such statue is here. The statue lies within the stone Communion Tree, a blending of arboreal and terrestrial. It symbolized the union of Illefarn's dwarven and elven peoples. Opening the tree requires similar unity - three elves and three dwarves of Illefarn, spaced equally around its trunk. Without these six, the Tree will remain closed to you."

"Where in the hells will we find three elves and three dwarves of Illefarn?" Neeshka piped up.

"Spirits of Illefarn dwell here, elves and dwarves who were bound closely to the Guardian, and the man he was, in life. His memory hangs heavy on their souls. If you gather these spirits to you, then the Tree shall open to reveal what it cradles within."

"These spirits are bound to the Guardian, but you are not?" Casavir asked.

"No, I am not like them. They are bound here against their wills, but I have chosen to guard these scrolls."

"So all I need to do is convince these spirits to come to this... 'Communion Tree' with me?" Kail asked.

"It is not so simple. Just as the Guardian has fallen into Shadow, so has those who were tied to him. Their torment has spawned a legion of foul undead, manifestations of their pain and sorrow."

"I hate the undead," she sighed.

"Destroy these undead and I believe their spirits would reappear, for a time at least."

"Killing. Something I'm good at."

"There is more," said Balaur. "More that is my doing I'm afraid. If you intend to bring spirits to the Communion Tree, you must undo the wards on the walls of these ruins - the Ghost Lights, which keep the spirits at bay."

"What are Ghost Lights?"

"They are the wards designed to shelter... and trap... the spirits within these ruins so they cannot spread their taint beyond this place. To your eyes, the Ghost Lights glow with a blue light, but to the spirits of my people, the glow is like that of the sun, a searing light that they cannot approach. As long as the Ghost Lights burn, the spirits cannot reach the tree. The touch of the living is enough to disable them. When they are touched by one who lives, they will go out. And once they are extinguished, the spirits may pass."

"I need some more information. Can you tell me of Illefarn?"

"The memories of our empire are... painful ones," said Balaur, and his image seemed to fade for a moment, and then became more defined. "Even to speak of it now is difficult. At times, I wonder if perhaps my memories of Illefarn are a dream... but always, the books here centre my thoughts and remind me of the truth that once was. I know not the name of the lands that surround us now, but once, long ago, it was a unified empire, lands that welcomed humans and dwarves within its borders."

"A little like Myth Drannor, when it opened its borders to non-elves?"

"Yes," Balaur mused. "Together, these people achieved a strength seldom seen in those times. But as all empires have a beginning, the end must come as well. Perhaps we erred in seeking to prevent that end. But it is difficult to simply let something one loves die without fighting to protect it."

"Protect it from what?"

"We had enemies, as all empires do. The orc tribes of the North plagued our borders... but our greatest enemies were the humans of Netheril, who took the magics that we had shared with them and built an empire of their own. But their empire grew so swiftly and wild... the people of Illefarn had grown slowly and carefully, like a garden, but the humans of Netheril had little patience for such things... as they tasted power, they hungered for more."

"Typical of many humans," said Sand, glancing slyly at Qara.

"Sounds like you had dangerous enemies," Kail said before Her Highness could respond.

"We meant no harm in sharing our knowledge," Balaur continued. "We had assumed that it would be used as we used it - carefully, responsibly. the Netherese were like children, playing with the land and the skies as if they were toys for their amusement. The Art is not meant for such things, and terrible are the consequences of abusing such power. But the fall of our empire came not from them. The darkness that came upon us had another source."

"The Guardian," she matter-of-factly stated.

"Yes. When the Guardian turned to Shadow Weave, our empire crumbled. Our trees withered, their lives drained to feed his. Our people simply... waned. Dwarves set down their tools and stared numbly as their forges went cold. Elves lay down in their forests, motionless for days and weeks, as the wild things grew, and smothered them. A few of us fled to the outer reaches of Illefarn, where the Guardian's Shadow was still weak. There, we plotted to end him."

"What was the Guardian like, before his corruption?"

"Understand this. The Guardian was an embodiment of the Weave, with a singular purpose. That purpose was to preserve Illefarn, and to destroy its enemies, should they attack."

"But he used to be a man," said Shandra. "Surely something of his personality survived."

"A ritual was devised to create the Guardian. It was meant to obliterate the man he was, leaving only his resolve to defend our nation. This was his sacrifice. Whether anything remained of the man I knew... I cannot say," said Balaur sadly.

"Was he a mindless construct?"

"No. A construct is inflexible. We required a Guardian that was pure of purpose, but able to reason and adapt and change. Unfortunately, the Guardian's flexibility became our doom. A simple construct, powered by the Weave, would have died when the Weave was disrupted. The Guardian was clever enough to find a new source of life. He turned to the Shadow Weave, and thus, he was corrupted."

"How did the Weave even fail in the first place? From what little I understand, the Weave is... well, it just IS."

"Karsus," said Sand with a shake of his head.

"Yes. At the time, we did not know," said Balaur. "Even now, I have only scraps of truth, gleaned from hapless visitors to this place in the early years of my undeath. As far as I know, the fault lies with a Netherese mage, Karsus. He tries to take control of the Weave, to become the new God of magic. This was madness, and he failed, of course. But in failing, he slew the goddess of magic. She was reborn a moment later, but in that instant, all magic failed. That was the end for Netheril's floating cities, and it should have been the end for our Guardian as well."

"But the Guardian was cleverer than you thought. He turned to the Shadow Weave to preserve his life."

"Yes. And in so doing, he doomed that which he sought to protect."

"So how did your people fight the King of Shadows?"

"Three times we tried to end him, and only on the third attempt did we partially succeed."

"Only partially? Are you getting all this, Grobnar? It's important."

"You can count on me," replied Grobnar, still scribbling away furiously.

"Yes, only partially. We walled him up within the Plane of Shadows. Or, rather, others did. By that time, I was dead, and I have no memories of how that victory was won."

"What happened the other two times?"

"We turned first to the Silken Sisters, six spellswords of tremendous power. Even the Netheril feared them, and we thought that they must prevail against the Guardian. Their fate was too terrible for words. Suffice to say that they failed."

"And the second attempt?"

"Then did the priest Annaeus devise the Ritual of Purification, by which we might weaken the Guardian. A great gathering of wizards and priests assembled to confront the Guardian. I was but a minor power in that host, but I remember those last hours well. We spoke the Ritual, and it functioned as Annaeus had hoped."

"So why didn't you succeed? I'm undergoing the same ritual you went through. Why didn't it work?"

"We were... not entirely united in purpose," Balaur hesitated. "The parts of the ritual were spread between five of the strongest of our host. Had one person undergone the ritual, perhaps we would have succeeded. This is where you may succeed, where we did not."

"What about the third attempt? This... Plane of Shadows business. How did it work, and why isn't he still stuck there?"

"Regrettably, that... victory... is not recorded in these scrolls. Nor was I a witness. At least one such witness still walks these halls, I believe. You might ask him, if you can ease his torment for a time." Balaur gestured in the direction of a large open doorway that led to rest of the mines.

"Thank you, Balaur." He acknowledged her thanks with a nod of his head, then turned his attention back to the bookshelves.

"Maybe we should split up," Elanee suggested. "That way, we could cover more ground, and find these spirits faster."

"I think we should stay together," said Sand.

"Really? Why?"

"Because of those." He pointed to the room ahead, to a collection of ghasts and some humanoid... thing... that Kail couldn't identify.

"What is it?" she asked.

"A Baelnorn. An undead elven wizard."

At that moment, the Baelnorn saw them, and raised his arm. The ghasts surged forward, towards the group. Content to leave the Baelnorn to others, Kail ducked one ghast's swipe and used her short sword to slash through the creature's chest cavity. It fell to the floor, but did not die -- again -- until she struck a decapitating blow.

From the corner of her eye she saw Zhjaeve turn undead. A bright white light shot out from the cleric's body as she channelled positive energy, and two more ghasts exploded when the light struck them. Shandra and Khelgar were fighting two ghasts of their own, and everybody else was concentrating their efforts on the Baelnorn whilst Grobnar cast spells to empower them.

Before Kail could react, the Baelnorn struck at Casavir with a spell, and the paladin dropped to the ground only feet away from the undead elf.

"No!" cried Elanee. She screamed the words of a spell, and Kail looked up just in time to see huge globules of fire dropping down from the air. She ducked, which would have been a pointless and futile move, but needn't have bothered. The fire fell down around her, but did not touch her, nor any of her companions. The Baelnorn, however, was struck again and again, and the creature screamed as its body was incinerated. Kail was impressed; Fire Storm was, from what she could remember, a pretty high-level spell, far beyond her own ken.

Before the rain of fire had even stopped, Elanee was rushing towards the still form of Casavir. Kail knew better than to interfere with a healer, and settled on helping Shandra dispatch her foe as Zhjaeve joined Elanee.

"Thanks," Shandra panted when the ghast was still. "I saw Casavir... is he...?"

"I don't know. Give them some time."

"We've got more company, lass," said Khelgar. He pointed to another ghostly figure, an elf like Balaur, stood a short distance away. This spirit was obviously the creator of the undead creatures who had attacked them. Shandra's hands tightened on her sword, and Kail laid a hand on her arm.

"Baelnorns are unfortunately very difficult to kill," said Sand. "Or un-kill, as the case may be."

"Look, Sir Casavir has recovered!" said Grobnar excitedly. Sure enough, Elanee and Zhjeave were helping him to his feet. Kail rejoined them, and the others followed.

"I'm glad you're okay," she told him. He still looked a little dazed, but didn't seen any the worse for wear.

"Thank you... as am I," he replied. "Though I've never experienced anything like that before. It was as if my strength and stamina failed me. I felt so weak and tired that I couldn't even stand."

"Life-draining spells," said Sand, wrinkling his nose a little in disgust. "I've never liked death-magic. Give me some good old elemental damage any day."

"Maybe this guy can tell us why he was so cranky," said Neeshka, indicating the spirit. When Kail approached him, he began to speak.

"Is it done, then? Has the fool ended himself? Or did the ritual fail entirely?" said the spirit to nobody in particular.

"This shade is cycling through events of the past... and perhaps has been ever since its death," said Zhjaeve. "I cannot say this for certain, but it is likely the one he is speaking of is the one who became the Guardian."

"The ritual was a success. The Guardian lives," Kail said to the spirit.

"What a waste. A waste do you hear? And you can tell Annaeus that I said as much. I did not tutor that boy for twenty years only to have him turned into a mindless monstrosity."

"But he chose his own fate, did he not?"

"Oh yes, chose it himself. Ever the patriot, he was. 'Sacrifices must be made, for the good of all'. Illefarn is a great nation, and preserving it is our 'responsibility'. Well, I say this. Let the weak and the worthless make the sacrifices. That boy had a _mind_ in his bone-cage. He might have advanced the story of magic, but instead he threw it all away. For 'love of country'.

"He was a gifted wizard?"

"Gifted? I suppose. For a human. Bah... yes, he was gifted, by the hells. A quick mind, a sharp with, a noble spirit. Have you ever noticed, I wonder, how those who have everything are always the quickest to throw it all away?

"I can't say that I have. But now the Guardian is back and going on an evil rampage. I need you to come to the Communion Tree and help me stop him."

"Very well," the spirit sighed.

"Good. Ah... you don't happen to know where the Communion Tree _is_, do you?"

"Through there." The spirit gestured to an open doorway, and everybody filed into the room. The Communion Tree was a huge monstrosity of stone, shaped in the form of a type of tree Kail could not identify. The spirit stood on the far side of the room, in what appeared to be a circle that had been etched into the floor. There, he merely waited, his hands folded in front of him.

"Come on," said Kail to her friends. "We still have five spirits to find."

o - o - o - o - o

Now that Kail had a better idea of what to expect when fighting Baelnorns, she made everybody prepare themselves properly before rushing into battle. She came up with plans, and formations, and the next Baelnorn went down more easily than the first, leaving only the spirit of an elven woman behind. This spirit _definitely_ wasn't at peace; she fidgeted constantly, her eyes darting around the room as if looking for something. When Kail approached her, she shrank back a little.

"Who approaches us, sisters? Does it look on us? Does it pity us?" the woman hissed. "Make it leave us, sisters! Of voices we hear plenty." Though spoken by the same woman, the second sentence seemed... different. As if it was a different voice speaking the words.

"I'm Kail Farlong," she replied, deciding straight-forward honesty was the best way to deal with this confused spirit. "Who are you?"

"We were the Silken Sisters. The pride of Aelinthildaar. Sword and spell we wielded, six we were but now are one. Six, six we were, and now but one."

"What happened to you?"

"Will it free us? Will it kill us?" Again, the voice changed, and yet another character seemed to be speaking. "Yes! A bargain! A story told, exchanged for peace. An end we crave, an end for true..."

"Know that I do not believe it possible to destroy these spirits," Zhjaeve whispered to her. "They are bound to the King of Shadows, and as long as he exists, they shall as well."

"Destroying the King of Shadows may free you, but I'll need your help," she said to the spirit.

"Does it know the Guardian? Does it know how the Guardian fell into Shadow? We were the first, the first sent against him. Sharpened swords. Sharpened spells. Went into the forest where _he_ was strong. Went in six, came out one. Went in six, came out one," the spirit lamented.

"The King of Shadows... combined you into one?"

"He spied us in the wood. He fell upon us, drained our lives, and left our spirits naked, helpless." The spirit's voice changed. "Left our souls screaming in the dark. But that wasn't all, was it sisters? No, he was angry. He wasn't finished with us. Not yet. He scoured us bare, made us shadow. He can _work_ shadow, shape it as he wills. He worked us like clay, like white hot steel. Six blades, hammered into one."

"I've only heard three voices. Where are the other three?"

"When six were joined, some voices were lost. Mouths sealed. Minds pulped. Three remain."

"So he just left you to wander?"

"Here we came, by roads unknown. This place is strong with his contagion." Again, the voice changed, becoming more angry. "Strong with his reek!"

"I need to open the Communion Tree. Will you help me?"

"The Communion Tree? Then it seeks to combat him! Come sisters, its hopes align with ours. Let us follow." And for once, the spirit sounded almost... happy.

Kail sent Shandra and Qara ahead to switch off the Ghost Lights which trapped the spirit, and lead the dead woman back towards the Communion Tree. When she reached it, the spirit didn't even acknowledge the ghostly form of the elven man stood there, she only took a place beside him and waited like he.

"Well, two down, four to go," said Kail. "Where should we check next?"

o - o - o - o - o

The stone-paved corridors eventually gave way to something that looked more like a mine. The walls were bare rock, and an occasional pick-axe could be seen abandoned on the floor, long disused. From the corner of her eye, Kail saw Neeshka tossing something up in the air and catching it again.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Just something I found lying around in a locked chest. See." The tiefling handed over the object, and Kail turned it over in her hands. It appeared to be a simple stone carved with a rune, and she would have been content to leave it at that, but she also sensed a very faint trace of magic on it.

"Hey Grobnar, what do you make of this?" she asked, tossing it to the gnome who caught it one-handed.

"Why, I've seen part of this rune before, on the surface of Mister Pointy, but I didn't know how to finish tracing it without the complete design. It looks quite useful... might be just the thing we need to help Mister Pointy get on his feet again. It'd have to wait until we get back home, of course, but looks promising."

"Great, keep hold of it then. I want that construct up and running as soon as possible?"

"Really? Then I'll see what I can do as soon as we get back to the Keep!"

"Company, lass!" said Khelgar. She looked up just in time to see a huge golem come shambling towards the group. Everybody jumped aside and drew their weapons, but she knew that only Khelgar, Casavir and Zhjaeve would be able to harm it; its armour would blunt sharp weapons like hers, turn aside arrows, and since it was an iron golem, it would have a hell of a lot of magic resistance. As the group fell into a routine of distracting the golem so that the others could strike, Kail hummed to herself a song that Lucas had once taught her about golems.

_Flesh is weakest, but take care; fire and cold are effective there_

_Clay is next, wide of girth; use those spells which move the earth_

_Stone is strong, a work of art; the stone to flesh spell would be smart_

_Iron has poison and you should know; electrical damage will make it slow_

_Adamantine is faster even than clay; if you see it, run away._

"Does anybody have any electrical spells?" she called, kicking the golem's leg from behind so that it turned around to face her. As it did, Casavir hit it again with his hammer.

"I do, but you might want to stand back," said Qara, rolling up her sleeves.

"Just cast it!"

Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you." As Qara began chanting, Kail tried to back away from the construct, which was difficult as the golem seemed intent on following her. At the last minute, she ducked and rolled over her shoulder, past the golem and towards the rest of the group. Halfway through her roll, something shimmering and spherical whizzed past her head, and as she stood, an electrical blast hit both the construct and her. She felt sparks fly from everything metal that she owned... her daggers, the buckles on her backpack and her belt... and she was thrown by some invisible force against the wall of the mine.

Casavir rushed forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, and she felt healing energy running through her body. Her heart began beating normally again, though the metal about her body was still smoking. She hoped that the shards hadn't been damaged.

"Thanks," she said. "Deal with the golem." He nodded, and returned to the fight as Sand took his place and helped her to her feet. "Tell me honestly... how bad is it?" she asked him, running her hand over her hair.

"I've seen worse. Besides, your idea worked. Look, the golem is moving much slower now."

She watched the fight, and noticed that the golem _was_ moving more slowly. The attackers had plenty of time to strike, and didn't have to move as far to dodge its blows. After a few minutes of good old-fashioned beating away, the golem collapsed, whatever force held it together finally destroyed.

Neeshka wandered over, and made an attempt and smoothing down her hair.

"Don't worry," she said. "We'll get this fixed up when we make camp."

Kail groaned.

"Uh, there's another one of those spirits over here," called Grobnar from around a corner. Everybody hurried to join him, and Kail saw not an elf, but a dwarf. No doubt another lost Illefarn soul that she needed to save. As if saving all the _living_ people wasn't hard enough.

"Do I... live?" the spirit asked when she stepped towards him.

"Ah... not exactly," she replied. She'd never had to break news of a death to the dead person themselves before.

"I thought not. You know why? No pain. Never fought a battle and came out feelin'... well, feelin' like this. Like nothing."

"I see. Who are you?"

"Thunderbelly, they call me, the Iron Arm of Dardath. First dwarf over the walls at Sunstone."

"Thunderbelly? There must be a story behind that," she smiled.

"Ha! The name's on account of my appetite, see? Got it from the boys on the field of Delimbiyr. Here I was, smiting trolls left and right, and my belly's growling louder than me, on account of no breakfast. Good days, those were..."

"So... how did you die?"

"Not a subtle sort, are you?" he snorted. "No, don't trouble yourself. I died in the battle. The last battle, when all that remained of Illefarn went out to meet the Guardian. They say we won. Walled him up in the Plane of Shadow. But I don't call that a victory. Victory's when I swing my axe and split my foeman's skull. That was no victory, even for the wyrm."

"A wyrm fought for the King of Shadows?"

"Of course not! The wyrm was on our side. A right hero, he was. Wizards called him up from... well, from somewhere. Said he'd come to put an end to the Guardian. Good thing we had him, too. He fought even tougher than he looked. Managed to distract the Guardian while the wizards did their work. Ended bad for him, though."

"What happened to him?"

"The Guardian did for him, like he did for all of us. We saw him fall, just dropped out of the sky, all shining, like he was carved from diamond. The wizards weren't ready yet, so they sent us in next. Last I remember, the whole host of Dardath was marching forward, me and a few others at their head. Then, all around us, these... little shadows... they were everywhere. Hundreds of them. And one of them... he was just there, in front of me, all of a sudden. So close, so close, and he reaches out for me, and..."

"And you ended up here."

"Not at first. I think I would have gone with the others. I could feel them you know, feel them drifting off. Going somewhere. But not me. I'd made an oath."

"Swearing on an oath. Always a bad idea," she quipped.

"It was before the battle, swore I wouldn't come home til the Guardian was slain. We all said the words, but I meant them."

"It sounds like the wyrm wasn't the only hero out there. But now I need your help. The Guardian has returned to the world, trying to destroy everything in his path. I need to stop him, but I need your help."

"Aye, whatever you need. Thunderbelly's your dwarf!" he nodded, gripping his ethereal axe.

"Good. Just follow me. I'll take you to the others."

o - o - o - o - o

Kail sat down in the corridor of the mine and took out a packet of travelling rations from her backpack. The fat-rich rations weren't all that appetising, and they were definitely no substitute for a good meal, but they were edible, at least, and took the edge off her hunger. It was too bad Illefarn was devoid of animal life. She wouldn't have minded if Neeshka or Bishop could have brought down a couple of pheasants or, better yet, a deer or a hog.

This place was oppressive. It wasn't just empty, it was _empty_. Most people thought of empty as a house that didn't have any people in it. But this network of underground corridors and mines was empty in a different way. No living person had set foot here for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. And yet once, this place had been the height of civilisation.

She sighed, and cast her mind back to the second dwarven spirit they had encountered before stopping their search to eat. He was the real reason for her melancholy mood.

_"I can smell you, plunderer," the spirit had said. "I can taste your steel and hear the rustle of the hundreds you've slain, swirling and fading in your wake."_

_"It's not hundreds. Dozens, maybe," she had replied, trying to make light of the dwarf's words. "Besides, I'm not a plunderer."_

_"Of course you are. You're a plunderer of words and memories and names. I've got words aplenty, plunderer, but you'll find them useless enough, for I'm poor in memories and starved of names. Names... you won't find names in this place, plunderer, only questions. He's drained us all of names, just like we took his.""_

_"The Guardian?_

_"Yes, our Guardian. I wonder, have you asked the question yet? Have you seen past the ramblings of priests, past the sobs and sighs of broken minds, and spied the real conundrum?"_

_"And that is...?"_

_"Illefarn was destroyed by the very Guardian whose sole purpose was to protect our nation. He was the perfect protector, and yet he turned against us. But why? We stripped him of his name so he had no pride. We stripped him of his self so he had no ambition. His purpose was as pure as it was simple: to protect his nation and destroy its enemies. He wasn't flawed, he was perfect. Yet still, he was our doom."_

_"He destroyed you because the Shadow Weave corrupted him."_

_"No. That isn't the reason at all. The Guardian turned to the Shadow Weave to further his purpose. Only to keep himself alive, that he might protect his nation. There's a dirty little secret, one the others won't tell you." The dwarf had posed for dramatic effect. "We struck first. We never bothered to learn the Guardian's intentions."_

_"And what were his intentions?"_

_"Who can say? The blood-drunk elf-girls swooped in before we could ask, before we could think. Yes, the Guardian's nature had changed, but what did that mean? What did he want? Revenge? Did he want his life back? Did he simply want to feed? We didn't even try to find out. As for me... I don't think his motives had changed at all. Nor have they ever."_

_"You think he's still trying to defend Illefarn?"_

_"Perhaps. Or, lacking an Illefarn to defend, he is simply trying to destroy her enemies. Wherever he perceives them to be."_

_"An interesting perspective. But I need you to come with me."_

_"Or perhaps is is merely the ramblings of a shattered and nameless mind. Make of it what you will. For my part, I will follow you and say no more."_

"What are you thinking?" asked Neeshka, sitting down beside her and breaking her out of her reverie.

"What makes you think that I'm thinking?"

"You always go all quiet and introspective when you're thinking."

"I was just thinking that if I was charged with defending my land, and then my people turned on me, I'd be pretty pissed off."

"Ahh. You're thinking about the Guardian."

"Yes," she sighed. "It's starting to make sense to me now. His instructions were to defend Illefarn. Only enemies of Illefarn would have the desire to attack him. Therefore, anybody who attacked him was, by default, an enemy both of himself and Illefarn... even if it was his own people. From what I can gather, he was charged with defending a nation, a land... and a nation is bigger than the individuals in it."

"So why do you think he's going about plotting things and raising undead armies now?"

"I think he's trying to recover Illefarn. Maybe if we just let him take back the lands that Illefarn covered, he won't act aggressively towards us."

"But Illefarn was huge, Kail! It covered a lot of space. There are villages, towns and even cities in what used to be Illefarn. Wasn't most of the Mere part of it at one point too? And those caves near Luskan where the githyanki were holding Shandra captive? That would mean an awful lot of people that would be displaced... or killed."

"Then maybe I can talk to the King of Shadows, try to make him understand that Illefarn doesn't exist anymore."

"And something tells me that constructs have less common sense than Grobnar," Neeshka said with a roll of her eyes. "But hey, it's your call. You're the chosen one, after all. You know I'm just as happy to have you talk your way out of something as to fight your way out of it."

"Kalach-Cha," said Zhjaeve as she approached. "We must hurry. I believe the King of Shadows will not allow us to continue the Ritual of Purification without attempting to stop us."

"Alright, alright, we'll get back to the fighting the good fight," she said, hauling herself to her feet.

Despite one or two groans and unfinished rations that had to be eaten while they walked, they were soon underway again. They walked down twisting, winding corridors, with Khelgar leading and assuring them that they hadn't already passed the corridor in question before. When he reached a heavy wooden side-door, he stopped and pressed his ear to it.

"Could just be me imagination, but I thought I heard something in here," he said.

"I sense undead creatures nearby," Zhjaeve confirmed.

"I hate the undead," Kail sighed. "Right everyone, standard Baelnorn procedure Get your protective spells up, then break out whatever holy water we have left. Get your fire spells ready. Khelgar and Casavir, you two lead."

By the end of the battle, Kail didn't just hate the undead, she _really_ hated the undead. In fact, pretty much everybody hated the undead. Neeshka hated them because they were never carrying valuables. Khelgar hated them because it wasn't honourable for the dead to be getting up and walking around again. Casavir hated them because... well... paladins _did_. Zhjaeve hated them because they stood between Kail and the Communion Tree. Bishop hated them because they usually ignored his arrows. Qara hated them because they smelled bad. Elanee hated them because they were abominations to nature. Sand hated them because no matter how many you killed, there always seemed to be more. Shandra hated them because they were creepy, and Grobnar hated them because there wasn't much you could write about them. Heroes in stories should be vanquishing majestic foe, like dragons, or entire tribes of orcs... not decomposing, putrefying bodies. Nobody wanted to hear about _that_, unless it involved several large catapults with some small exploding blast-globes, possibly that delivered some sort of collateral damage capable of...

"I get it, Grobnar," said Kail, turning towards the spirit that had conjured the undead. It was an elven woman. She looked less insane than the Silken Sisters had been... but not by a large margin.

"He burns. He screams... someone must stop this. Why will no on listen?" asked the spirit when Kail approached.

"You're speaking of the Guardian?"

"Guardian! Is it a crime now to call him by his name? His real name? That man is gone, they tell me. Gone! If he is 'gone', then who lays in the temple, writhing in agony and calling upon the gods for release? Four tendays have I sat vigil with the... Guardian, as they call him now. His pain has only worsened. Worsened, when Annaeus promised it would ease!"

"Who is Annaeus?" she asked. His name had been inscribed on a plaque in the temple where they had found the second statue. Surely he must have been somebody of importance.

"Who is... do you mock me?" the elf asked disgustedly. "Or is the Dwarf afraid to face me? He knows he has done an evil thing. He may talk all he likes of patriotism, of sacrifices for our nation. A century of peace is not worth such suffering! How can we call ourselves civilised when we ask a good man to endure such pain? To become some unfeeling thing? The Weave _fills_ him. It _boils_ in his every vein, day and night, tenday after tenday. Is it not enough that he must sacrifice his very self?"

"What would you suggest?"

"End this, now! If enough of us come together, demand that Annaeus release him from the ritual, end his pain... it isn't too late, it can't be!"

"I'll do what I can to end his pain."

"You will? It's been so long... since anyone's listened to me. Or... or has it?"

"I need you to come with me, to the Communion Tree. Some of the others are gathered there. They want to stop the Guardian's pain too," she half-lied. Well, they_ did _want to stop the Guardian, and that would definitely end any pain.

"Come with you?" the elf asked a little suspiciously. "Very well, I will. I will follow."

They led the spirit back to the tree with the others, and then set out into the mines one last time, to track down the last spirit needed.

o - o - o - o - o

Kail ducked again as a wraith rushed towards her. She knew that its touch would drain her life force, but at the moment, there was nobody to help her. As she and Khelgar had entered the room, a group of undead monsters had rushed at everybody else out in the corridor. She and the dwarf were cut off from everybody else, and he was already taking on three ghasts. For the moment, she was on her own.

If only she had some measure of control over her draconic abilities. If she could _willingly _use her dragon-fire, rather than having it happen at random when her life was in danger or she was terrified, then she could deal with this damned wraith herself. Once she would have avoided trying to use any of her abilities at any cost... now, she considered it a weakness that she could not use them, a failure on her part.

Experimentally, she slashed at the wraith with her weapons, knowing in advance that they would have no effect on the creature's non-corporeal body. The Short Sword of Quickness, which her uncle had let her keep, passed right through the wraith. Bishop's dagger, however, made contact with the spirit's body, and it uttered a high-pitched scream as it went on the offensive again.

And so she ducked and slashed and ducked again for what seemed like an eternity. Then, without warning, the wraith seemed to disintegrate in mid-air, and Kail turned in time to see a white glow fading around Zhjaeve. The ghasts were gone, as were the undead in the corridor, and a moment later a dwarven spirit materialised in their place.

Panting, Kail sheathed the dagger, and turned to listen to whatever ranting _this_ spirit wanted to do.

"You must pardon me, friend," said the spirit. "It was not my custom in life to greet visitors with swarms of undead. I am called Annaeus."

"_You_ are Annaeus?" she asked in disbelief. He looked like just a regular old dwarf, to her. Somehow she had been expecting someone a little...grander.

"Ah, the other spirits must have spoken of me. Even after so long, they bear me ill-will, and I can't say that I'm surprised. How often, in life, did I come face to face with 'evil', only to find someone who was simply doing what he thought to be right and just. Yes, it all began with a silly fat dwarf. I created the Guardian. That disappoints some people, you know. Even offends some. So they make of me what they will. They call me madman, or worse. Let them say what they will. I know why I did what I did, why I created the Guardian, and later tried to destroy him."

"What of the man who became the Guardian?"

"A great man. A patriot. Can you imagine such a sacrifice? He didn't simply give up his life, he offered up his very self for his people."

"Then you tried to destroy him."

"After his corruption, yes," said Annaeus sadly. "We tried twice to destroy him. Oh, I'm told they tried again afterward, but by then I was dead. First we sent the Silken Sisters against him. Silly and foolish, those elf-girls, but brave, too. I warned them not to strike at the Guardian. I counselled our leaders to withdraw, to pull all our folk from the heartland, and to regroup. To make a plan. The sisters were... destroyed. Then our leader turned to me and I devised the Ritual. The very Ritual of Purification which you seek to complete."

"How does the Ritual work?"

"In many ways, it attempts to reverse the process that created the Guardian... to the extent that such a thing can be done. In truth, it merely allows one to weaken him. A fire burns wood to ash. The process can never truly be reversed, and so it is with the Guardian. He is utterly and irreversibly changed."

"So why did you fail to slay the Guardian?"

"The Ritual functioned as expected, but there was dissent amongst us. Some of the wizards, old friends of his, refused to strike. They tried to reason with the Guardian instead."

"And how did that work out?"

"About as well as could be expected. The Guardian was no longer a man, no matter what his friends believed. We were divided, and the Guardian slew us. Drained our lives, every one. And with us perished the might of Illefarn."

"Well, now your Guardian is back and killing people. Will you come to the Communion Tree and help me reach the fourth statue?"

"Very well. I suppose it's about time somebody else tried to stop the Guardian."

The spirit of Annaeus was silent as they walked, and Kail wondered what he was thinking. She didn't ask him, though. No doubt he was wondering what would happen to his spirit if she _did_ manage to defeat the King of Shadows. When they arrived at the tree, Annaeus took his place.

"Good luck," he said to her. Then, as one, the spirits raised their hands towards the tree, and a blinding white light shot out from it. Kail turned and shielded her eyes, and when she turned around again, the light was gone and so were the spirits and the tree. Only a statue of purification stood there, as tall and indistinguishable as the rest.

"Only one more after this, right?" she asked Zhjaeve.

"That is correct, Kalach-Cha."

"Alright." She stepped up to the statue and activated it. The voice which spoke was now familiar, and so were the lights which danced around and through her.

"In ancient times, the Guardian was created to protect Illefarn. If the time has come to dismantle our Great Instrument, you will be an agent of its destruction. Take this Blessing of Communion. May its soothing light comfort you on your travels."

"The fourth part of the ritual is complete," said Zhjaeve. "Focus your will upon the statue. Know that though the King of Shadows may wound you countless times, you have the power to undo the damage he does to you, or to others."

The lights faded, and Kail felt the magical energy leaving her body. But it felt like... _something _remained. Some sort of energy that she couldn't quite define.

"Are you ready for the last statue, Kalach-Cha?" asked Zhjaeve.

"Of course. Lead the way."

o - o - o - o - o

The light of the day was fading once again to evening as Kail and her companions stepped out of the mines. It was hard to believe that they'd spent almost an entire day underground... it didn't seem that long, but she was very, very tired. She had already decided that they would press on to the next statue, and then later have a nice long rest. The statue was more important than rest at the moment, though.

"Where to, Zhjaeve?" she asked.

"Up there," said the githzerai, pointing to a nearby hill. Atop the hill, a strange glow could be seen, like colours swirling pink, blue and green.

"The statue's up there?"

"No, the statue is not in Arvahn. Know that what you see on that hill is a song portal. The Illefarn had many such portals that linked their settlements together. They are unlocked by the singing of the Illefarn people, rather than by keys of stone or metal."

"So... uh... what unlocked _this_ one?" asked Shandra. "There aren't any Illefarn people left anymore. So who opened it?"

"Know that it is likely the portal opened automatically once the fourth statue had been activated. The fifth statue can be found through there."

"Where will this portal take us, Zhjaeve?" Kail asked.

"That I do not know. The portals are capable of teleporting a person over vast distances. I know only that it will take us to another Illefarn settlement, and then back again. The rest, we will have to discover when we arrive."

"I see. Well... if anybody wants to wait behind, they can. Wherever we end up might be just as dangerous as Arvahn. Or worse. I won't hold it against anybody who wants to wait here."

In the end, nobody wanted to be left behind. When Kail led her friends up the hill, they all followed her into the Illefarn song portal.


	63. Home

_63. Home_

Light rushed into Kail's eyes, and she was greeted with a view that was both strange and familiar. They had materialised at a crossroads, buildings stood around them. At least, the remains of buildings. The houses and farmsteads were nothing more than burnt-out husks.

"Where are we?" asked Shandra, looking around in bewilderment. "This doesn't look like Illefarn ruins."

"These are not Illefarn ruins," said Elanee, her voice flat.

"It's West Harbor," said Kail. Her voice sounded strange to her ears, as if it was out of place. Slowly the devastation around her began to register to her mind. Around her, everything was still. No birds chattered, no animals called, no children laughed, no women sang. It was as if the Mere itself was dead.

"What in the Hells happened here? This place looks worse than Ember," said Qara.

Kail ignored them all, and stepped forward towards the closest building. It was Lewy Jones' house, reduced to charred timbers and rubble. Around the back of the building was the pig sty, where she and Bevil had pushed the Mossfeld brothers into the muck and swill for taunting Amie. Not even the sty had escaped the carnage; amongst the blackened wood and ash were stark-white objects half-buried in the dirt; skulls.

Her father! She set out at a sprint, her heart beating frantically in her chest. _Please let him be alive, please let him be alive,_ she thought desperately as she ran through the ruined village. The sound of her boots clattering over the bridge was the only sound to be heard in the whole village.

When she reached what had been her home for as long as she could remember, it too was a burnt shell. The roof was entirely gone, the outer walls reduced to knee-height. Of the inside walls, only the chimney remained.

Unseeing, she slumped to the floor in front of a pile of ash; what had been her father's sitting chair. Here, he had sat almost every night, whittling away at wood for the bows he occasionally sold, keeping a watchful eye on her as she played her childish games in front of the fire.

She was aware of sound behind her, of someone trying to move unobtrusively, and failing quite badly. Fragments of stones went flying beneath the person's feet, raising a cloud of ash that drifted slowly upward.

"Kail..." said Shandra hesitantly. "I'm sorry. I know how hard you tried to keep them safe.

She wanted to be alone, to remember things as they had been. She didn't want anybody else walking through the village, examining the houses and disturbing the remains, ruining her memories by making this real. She was the only Harborman left, so that made what was left of West Harbor hers, and hers alone. She had never been possessive before, but now she wanted everybody out, everybody who was a stranger to be gone from the remains of her village.

"Take everybody and set up camp out by the village sign. Camp outside the village. I don't want anybody inside West Harbor's boundaries."

"I can't just leave y-"

"_Get out_!" she screamed, because she was beyond reason, beyond words.

Shandra hastily retreated from the rubble of the house, and her footsteps grew quieter as she walked away, eventually fading to silence.

Kail returned her focus to the ashes. She felt devastated, but empty. Everybody she had known her whole life... her father, Bevil, Tarmas, George, Brother Merring, the Mossfelds, the Jones', the Harmans... all of them, gone forever, and she couldn't even bury or burn their remains in a ceremony... that much had already been seen to.

What could she do? She had to find a way to mark the destruction of the village, the slaughter of her family and friends. It had to be something important, not just a token gesture.

She had dealt with Amie's death by burning a lock of the young woman's hair. It had been a way to say goodbye. It had been closure. She had no hair now from the people of the village... but she _did_ have her own. Slowly, methodically, she stood, went out into the forest behind the house, and collected a handful of leaves and dead wood. She took them back into the house and placed them in the middle of the floor. There was no point trying to build a fire in the hearth; it had collapsed in on itself.

Once she had a fire going, she took out one of her daggers, laying it reverentially beside the flames. Then, using both hands, she gathered her hair, holding it at the nape of her neck. She picked up the dagger, and in one swift movement of the razor-sharp blade, sliced off a large handful of her hair. What remained immediately fell forward into her face, but she ignored it.

She placed her hair on the fire, and it caught alight releasing an acrid stench. Sitting still amongst the rubble, she waited until the last of the hair was gone. Somehow, it didn't seem enough. It didn't feel like a particularly grand gesture... and she wasn't even crying.

Hadn't she read somewhere that people of a certain tribe or clan indicated sorrow by painting their faces to represent tears? Well, she didn't have any paint, but she had plenty of ash and soot… That would just have to do.

Picking up a small piece of char that hadn't quite been reduced to ashes, she used it to draw two marks down her cheeks from below her eyes to her jaw-line, then examined her reflection in one of her blades. She looked like she had been crying soot, so she used the flake of wood to make the marks more defined and stylised. When she was finished, she had two long black half-crescents running from her eyes to her jaw.

It still didn't seem enough. She had never lost anybody close to her before, other than Amie, and now she had lost everybody at once. Her hair would grow, the soot would wash off her face, and everybody would still be dead. What she had done was no permanent reminder of her loss... she needed to do something that would last for as long as she, something that would never let her forget how she had failed to protect her family and friends.

Hadn't Lucas once told her a story about people who gave themselves tattoos by cutting their skin and rubbing ash into the wounds? Yes, the ash had antiseptic properties, which was why they used it. Well, she had plenty of ash. It was practically all that remained of the village.

Using her dagger, she cut through the material of her shirt, removing the sleeves. Then she pressed the blade to her skin at the top of her arm, applying pressure until she drew blood.

"Daeghun," she said, then transferred the weapon to her other hand. She made a similar cut across the top of her other arm, and said "Bevil". As she continued making alternate cuts across each arm, she ran through a litany of everybody who had lived in West Harbor, even Tarmas and Brother Merring, who hadn't been born there, even the Mossfeld brothers, who she had disliked.

By the time she had finished naming every name, her arms were striped with cuts from just below her shoulders to just above her wrists on the outside of her arms, and she was shivering with the pain of every cut. But her task was only half done. She used the cut-off sleeves of her shirt to wipe the blood that soaked her skin, so that she could see where each individual cut was. Then she gathered a pile of ash from where she sat, dipped her forefinger into the pile, and rubbed the ash into the first cut on her arm.

It hurt like hell, and tears sprang to her eyes as she worked her way down her arms. When she had finally finished, the cuts were no longer bleeding, but she felt feverish. Probably lack of food, she decided. She'd been sat there for hours, after all, and hadn't had a truly decent meal in days. People didn't eat during funerals, anyway. They abstained out of respect for the dead. But something was still missing... what else was supposed to happen at funerals?

Music! That was right, how could she have forgotten! Slowly, because her arms hurt, she took her flute out from her pack and placed it against her lips. Then she played, one song for every person who had lost their lives at the massacre of West Harbor.

o - o - o - o - o

Casavir poked half-heartedly at the fire with a damp stick. Everything in this swamp was damp. How had the houses managed to burn?

He winced at his on insensitive thoughts. That was the sort of thing that Bishop would say. He looked at the other man; the ranger was huddled in his cloak on the opposite side of the fire, staring into the flames and, for all he knew, oblivious to the fact that he was sitting just outside the ruins of a slaughterhouse.

Slaughterhouse. Another insensitive thought, comparing these people to cattle. What was he thinking? That was half of the problem... he wasn't thinking. It was too hard to think, in this dark, oppressive place. How on earth could anybody manage to live here? Apparently, he wasn't the only one wondering that.

"This place is horrible. I always heard people say that Kail lived in a swamp, but I always thought that it was a metaphor. I never knew that it was a real swamp," said Qara.

"Be quiet, girl, or I'll put an arrow through your head," growled Bishop.

"What's your problem? Weren't you the one who said farmers living away from well-used paths die all the time? What's the matter, double-standards not working out for you anymore? Huh, I wonder why."

In one swift movement the ranger nocked and raised his bow, aiming it at Qara's head. Casavir moved, but faster than he, Zhjaeve was by Bishop's side.

"I think the Mere has seen enough killing," she said calmly.

The moment was tense as Bishop stared into Zhjaeve's eyes, and she stared back.

"Fine. I'd hate to deprive Sand of the opportunity anyway." He took the arrow from his bow and set it on the ground beside him. Meanwhile, Zhjaeve transferred her gaze to the sorceress. The girl sat down without a word, looking somewhat chagrined.

Casavir did not know how Zhjaeve did it. She could quiet arguments with nothing more than a glance. It was as if people were afraid of her, yet she never made a single threat. She just looked at you with those eyes.

Everybody was coping with the discovery of West Harbor in ruins in different ways. Shandra was pacing up and down, as she had been doing since the camp had been set up. He knew that she wanted to go to Kail, but she was afraid to do so. He himself had tried to return to Kail, when the music had started, but Zhjaeve had stopped him. Not that he was afraid of her. He just respected her.

Elanee was sitting away from the group, staring out into the swamp at something unseen. It was hard to tell how upset she was, and he decided to leave her alone. Grobnar was sitting quietly for one, working on something on parchment. A song, probably, or designs for something dangerously explosive, as most of his inventions were.

Neeshka was, of all things, sat up a tree! What she hoped to see from up there that she could not see from the ground he did not know. But there she was, for all the world looking like some strange monkey, with her long tail dangling from the branch on which she perched. Aware of Kail's plight, her head was facing the direction of a ruined house on the far side of the village, from where the music came.

Khelgar was sitting by the fire, sharpening his axe. That was all, yet it spoke volumes. Sand was reading a book from his pack; the gods knew what he thought about the destruction of West Harbor and the slaughter of its people. He had been bordering on aloof during the investigation at Ember. It seemed that little phased him, and he gave away even less than Zhjaeve

Zhjaeve herself was sitting beside Khelgar, seemingly meditating. But he did not doubt that she was aware of everything going on around her. At times it seemed that she knew everything that was happening everywhere... it was hard to believe that she was just as in the dark as everyone else where the King of Shadows was concerned.

Having been looked at sternly by Zhjaeve, Qara was now silent. She was sitting close to the fire, amusing herself by throwing twigs into it, watching them consumed by the flames. It was hard to know what was going through the girl's head. Most of the time she seemed to have no desire except to use, and increase, her power.

Bishop had returned to staring into the fire, and didn't seem to be paying attention to the others. Brief emotions flickered over his face, too quickly to be identified, as if he was holding a conversation with himself. Occasionally he would reach down a hand and stroke the head of the wolf that lay beside him. No doubt what was going through the ranger's mind; he was probably gloating over Kail's misery and the misfortune of West Harbor.

Suddenly, he was aware that something had changed, and everybody else seemed to notice it too. Everybody turned their heads to the ruins of the village. But what was different? Ah, the music. It had stopped. The litany of slow, mournful melodies seemed to have ended.

"She will return when she is ready," said Zhjaeve before anyone could move.

"And if 'when she is ready' is too late?" asked Sand.

"All things happen for a reason."

There was a scream, and everybody jumped to their feet, weapons to hand.

"By the Gods, what have you done to your hair?" cried Shandra. In front of her stood... well, it looked like Kail, but not. The woman's hair was cut short, and sticking up wildly in all directions. Down her face, from her eyes to her jaw, were two crescents of black, like dark half-moons. And her sleeves had been torn off. Down her arms were black stripes, and her hands were stained red; blood, he realised.

Kail took a wobbly step forward, and he rushed forward to catch her as she collapsed. He prepared to heal her, raising his hand to her temples, to stem the flow of blood from wherever it came, but Elanee was there in a heartbeat, holding back his arm with surprising strength.

"Don't heal her until I know what's wrong with her. Bring her over here, by the fire. Kail, what did you do to your arms?"

"They're the people that I knew," said the young woman in his arms.

"But what did you **do**?"

"I heard that some people make tattoos by rubbing ash into cuts."

"Wood ash, Kail. Not ash from burnt buildings."

"Oh." He noticed that her eyes seemed too bright, too at odds with the cold, empty tone of her voice. He touched her forehead; it was hot.

"She has a fever," he told Elanee. Kail laughed.

"I'm burning like the rest of West Harbor. I can hear them burning, you know."

"I think she's delusional, too," he added as he lay her down on a blanket that Elanee spread out by the fire.

"Everybody, please leave," said the druid.

"I will assist you in tending the Kalach-Cha," said Zhjaeve firmly. Elanee held her gaze for a moment, then nodded.

"Alright. Everybody else, move away. You too, Casavir. You can't help."

He walked away, not happy at being told that he couldn't help, but knowing that Elanee and Zhjaeve were more capable healers than he, and that he could not do anything they couldn't.

"What do you think is wrong with her?" asked Neeshka worriedly.

"I'm no expert," said Sand, "but it looks like a combination of blood loss, shock, exhaustion and dehydration have taken their toll."

"But she'll be alright, won't she?" asked Shandra. "I mean, she can't... die."

Sand was silent, and the moment stretched on.

"Her body might not die," said Bishop at last. "But I think that the Kail you knew is gone, and won't be coming back."

"Don't say that!" said Shandra frantically. "Why would you say that?"

"I don't think this is an appropriate time to be trying to upset people, Bishop," Casavir chided. "We have no reason to believe she won't pull through this tragedy."

"Upsetting people? All I'm doing is telling the truth. Didn't you see her? Didn't you look in her eyes? Well I did, and I didn't recognise the person looking back."

"She will survive. Just," said Elanee, approaching the group.

"What's wrong with her? Neeshka asked.

"Septicaemia. Amongst other things."

"What's septi... septic..." began Khelgar.

"Blood poisoning. It was causing her fever and delirium. We've healed what we could, but she needs rest. These rituals have taken their toll on her. We will stay here for the rest of the night, and see how she is in the morning."

"Is she... herself?" asked Shandra.

"Only time will tell," said Zhjaeve, straightening up from covering Kail with a blanket. "We should all rest now. The Kalach-Cha is not the only one who needs it."

"I will take the first watch," said Casavir firmly.

"Very well. But keep an eye on Kail. If her fever returns or she appears to be in pain, wake me," said Elanee.

He nodded in agreement, and everybody began to set out their blankets and settle down for rest. He himself sat beside Kail. He touched her forehead, and it seemed that her fever was down; she merely felt warm, not burning. He considered washing her face, then thought better of it. Instead, he examined her arms. Where she had cut her skin and rubbed ash into it, was now healed over. But the black marks were still present, a permanent disfiguration.

"What purpose is there to this self-mutilation?" he wondered aloud.

"Everybody deals with grief in different ways," said Zhjaeve.

"Most people would cry, and reminisce about their losses with others."

"Not everybody is capable of expressing their feelings that way. If this is how Kail copes, then we must respect her methods, and give her space."

He said nothing. It seemed a strange way to grieve, to him. Nobody else commented on it either, and one by one his companions fell asleep. Around him, the Mere was grey and silent. This was, he decided, going to be a long night.

o - o - o - o - o

When she was woken by Casavir, Elanee's first thought was that Kail had taken a turn for the worse. But when he informed her that it was time for her watch, then took his blankets to the other side of the fire, she relaxed a little. She checked on the bard, who seemed to have improved a little, then took a few sips of water from her canteen as she surveyed the damage nearby.

It hurt, more than she thought it would, to see West Harbor in ruins. Even though she had never met anybody from the village, she felt as if she knew them from observing their interactions with Kail. She felt closer to some of them than she did to some members of her own Circle... her ex-Circle.

Could the destruction of West Harbor be related to the loss of her Circle and the druids of the Mere? Possibly. Otherwise it was an exceptional coincidence. It seemed that West Harbor's luck had finally run out. The village had escaped this fate here before, albeit barely. Over twenty years ago, when Kail had received the Shard in her chest, West Harbor had been almost destroyed; only a handful of families had survived by fleeing before the King of Shadows arrived there.

Better that it had happened back then, she thought, when Kail was too young to remember it. It seemed cruel, to take it all away from her now. Nature often seemed cruel, but this was no product of nature. This had been wanton destruction by the King of Shadows and his minions. She did not doubt it for an instant.

And she feared that Kail would not be able to cope with this latest blow.

o - o - o - o - o

Khelgar was shaken gently out of sleep. "Wuh... wassa?" he slurred as the dim light of the fire filtered into his eyes.

"It's your watch," said Elanee. He grunted in acknowledgement, and the elf took her blanket and ground-sheet to the other side of the fire. He had to admit, their new method of keeping track of who was due to take watch was quite efficient. Previously, they had spent time before sleeping arguing on who was going in which order. Now, everybody started sleeping on one side of the fire, then moved to the opposite side of the fire when their watch was over. That way, whoever was awake could choose who took the next watch. It had been Kail's idea.

He took a look at the lass; she appeared to be sleeping peacefully, and as deeply as anybody else. He was worried, though. Cutting your hair, drawing on your face, and permanently marking your skin, was not the sign of a normal, rational person.

Only one thing was for certain; Kail would not want sympathy, and showing her pity would possibly push her further over the edge. He would have to make sure that Kail spent a lot of time with Neeshka; the Tiefling was always able to cheer her up, and they were as close as sisters.

Yes, that was the way to go about it. Surround her with friends, so that her loss would not seem so great. That was the way that Dwarves did it, and it always worked for them.

o - o - o - o - o

"Wake up, tiefling," said a voice. Neeshka groaned and rolled over in her blankets. She was no stranger to staying up late, but once she was asleep, she preferred to stay that way until she woke up by herself. "Wake up, lazybones. It's your turn to take watch."

"Alright, alright, I'm up," she said, kicking off her blanket. Content that she wasn't going to fall asleep again, Khelgar retreated.

Usually, when they set up camp, there was something roasting over the fire... a couple or rabbits or fish, or a hog or a pheasant or two. Here, however, there was nothing. Partially because there was no sign of any animals in the damp swamp, partly because nobody had wanted to go hunting. Understandable, as far as she was concerned. The swamp was damp and oppressive. How could anybody be happy living here? Still, Elanee and Kail had spoken of it fondly enough...

She hoped that Kail would be okay. Hadn't she been through enough already? She deserved a break, not more trials. It seemed that she barely had time to recover from one event before another occurred... fleeing the Mere, Old Owl Well, Shandra being kidnapped, the Luskan trial over Ember, the Trial by Combat, the revelations about her mother... and now this. Sometimes the Gods could be very, very cruel, she decided.

o - o - o - o - o

Shandra woke to the sight of Neeshka's red eyes. She immediately sat up, looking around for any hint of trouble. When she saw none, she relaxed a little.

"Is Kail..." she began.

"Fine, just sleeping. It's your watch though."

"Alright. Thanks."

She yawned and stretched. The winter didn't seem so harsh, here in the Mere, as it did elsewhere. Even though it was chilly, it still felt humid. Strange weather, for a strange place.

She glanced at Kail; the woman seemed to be sleeping soundly, with Bishop's wolf curled up beside her. She dreaded to think of all the fleas that were being passed on from the creature - Bishop had claimed several times that the canine was flee-free, but somehow, coming from him, that wasn't very reassuring - but at least the animal was helping to keep Kail warm.

The ruins of West Harbor stood not far away, the faint scent of burning still hanging in the air, attesting the fact that the destruction had occurred quite recently.

This was the King of Shadow's fault, she was sure of it. Why did it always have to be innocents who were harmed? People who didn't deserve such treatment were usually the ones to receive it.

Well, not if Shandra Jerro had anything to do with it! She was determined to see Ember's killers brought to justice, and West Harbor's too. And she would help to protect others who needed it, even if it took her the rest of her life.

She would see justice done.

o - o - o - o - o

Grobnar studied the piece of paper in his hands. It was a song to remember West Harbor... or it was supposed to be. Since he had been woken by Shandra, half an hour ago, he hadn't managed to get a single word on paper. And with half an hour of his shift left to go, he suspected he wouldn't get anything written at all.

It hadn't been this hard to write about Ember. He had composed a passionate ballad, detailing the crimes of Luskan, the innocent lives lost, and how Kail had overcome wrongful accusations.

So why was he having so much trouble trying to write about West Harbor? Was it because the tragedy was still too recent? Did he need to wait a while, to see what effects the event would have on the world and the people he knew?

Or maybe he was subconsciously afraid that Kail wouldn't like what he wrote... maybe she wouldn't want him to write about it at all. Perhaps she was making her own plans to write her own song for her village. And if that was the case, maybe she would let him help. It would be wonderful to help her create something beautiful in memory of her family and friends.

Yes, he would wait and see what Kail had planned.

o - o - o - o - o

Sand was woken by Grobnar's incessant poking. He waved the Gnome away, then stood and walked around the camp a few times to wake himself fully. Not that he had been truly asleep... Elves did not sleep in the same way that humans did. But what he did was close enough that it made little difference.

This swamp was not a good place to be camping in. The ground was too soggy, too springy. If he had his way, he would have set up the campsite within the ruins of West Harbor, where there would at least have been stable, dry building foundations to shelter in. But from what Shandra had said, Kail was quite opposed to anybody being in the ruined village. He couldn't imagine why.

Humans were strange creatures, at times. Some of them were shy, retiring, others were boisterous, attention-seeking. Some were happy to live small, quaint lives. Others strove towards adventure and excitement.

It reminded him of something he had overheard in Duncan's tavern during a conversation between two of the regulars, Fenton and Weasel.

Fenton had said that great men must strive for greatness, as the small sapling strives towards the light, growing up from the forest floor. Weasel had disagreed, saying that great men did not seek greatness for themselves, but had it thrust upon them. He had given the example of Kail, who had overcome adversity to become a squire, a hero of Neverwinter.

It had surprised him, at the time, that the smugglers were capable of thinking beyond where their next drink was coming from, and that they had any interest in debating philosophy. This was just further evidence that humans could be deeper than their surface appearances, and he was beginning to question his views and perceptions of them. Most of the ones he was travelling with weren't _too_ bad... true, Casavir could be a bit zealous and over-protective at times, Kail could be somewhat eccentric - though if Grobnar was any indication, eccentricity was quite normal for bards - Shandra was little too naive, Bishop a bit fatalistic, and of course there was very little hope that Qara would turn out well, but all in all they seemed a decent group of short-lived people.

It was strange, how so many different people were travelling together, working, for the most part, co-operatively, and generally getting on well. For example, there was an ages-old animosity between elves and dwarves, but Khelgar seemed to have some fondness for Elanee, and she for him. And the warrior had never really said anything insulting or inflammatory to him... quite unusual for dwarves to show such restraint, in his experience.

Much of the same applied to Neeshka. Tieflings were generally mistrusted by others because of their reputation for thievery. But Khelgar seemed to like Neeshka, and Kail treated her like family. In fact, almost everybody seemed to like the Tiefling... except Casavir, and maybe Qara. The sorceress didn't seem to like anybody, really. And it was probably mutual.

He wondered about the people of West Harbor. What kind of people had they been? Pragmatic? Pessimistic? Opportunistic? However they had been, he would never be able to find out for himself. And that, he realised, was quite a shame.

o - o - o - o - o

When she was woken, Zhjaeve spent a few minutes sitting quietly, meditating on the events of the past few hours. This latest tragedy, the destruction of West Harbor, was, in a way, symbolic of the entire war against the King of Shadows. They represented all of the innocent people, past, present and future, who had been harmed by the Shadow.

She would have to stay very close to the Kalach-Cha for a while; the young woman would undoubtedly need her help to understand and come to terms with the destruction of her home, the murder of her family and friends.

The Kalach-Cha exhausted her at times. Sometimes she seemed young and innocent, afraid to embrace her abilities, afraid to know herself. At other times she seemed as old and wise as any zerth in Limbo.

She had noticed that a lot of humans had this duality to them; they said one thing but their bodies showed their thoughts more plainly. Most of the time, they didn't even seem to realise that they were saying one thing verbally but another thing physically.

The Kalach-Cha, for example, professed to have no desire to enter into a romantic relationship with Casavir, yet her body language said that she was physically attracted to him. He picked up subconsciously on this body language, and made tenuous attempts at advancing his friendship with Kail. This lead to a great deal of confusion, all stemming from people not knowing themselves.

It would all be so much easier if people spent time applying themselves to understanding. Elanee made some attempt at it, but spent most of her time trying to understand the land and the animals, rather than herself and the people who lived in Faerûn.

Of course, the way of the Girthzerai was hard to grasp for people not familiar with the treachery of Limbo. There, a stray thought, a single doubt, could have deadly consequences. On the material plane, your thoughts and emotions didn't kill you. Oh, they could drive you insane, and if her new companions were anything to go by, thoughts and feelings could consume your every waking moment. And the stronger the emotions, the greater the consumption. Contempt was a lazy man's dislike, but outright hatred, like intense love or desire, could change a person in dramatic ways.

There was a lot of hostility within the group, and that was a little hard to be around. Always, there was competition and hostility, between Sand and Qara, between Casavir and Bishop, between Qara and... well, aimed at Grobnar. The Gnome seemed incapable of hostility, or he ignored it. She often sensed hostility between Kail and Qara too. It seemed that not many people liked the demanding, power-hungry young woman.

She herself did not dislike any of her companions. She considered them as children, uninformed and often in need of guidance, but each acting according to his or her own nature.

Still, such things were not her true concern. All she had to do was keep the Kalach-Cha alive, and to help her defeat the King of Shadows, and protect this plane and all of its inhabitants. That was all.

o - o - o - o - o

Qara sat dejectedly, huddled in her blankets beside the fire. She hated this miserable swamp, with its miserable biting insects, she hated the people she was travelling with, and she hated being told to keep a leash on her powers.

Was it her fault that everybody else got in the way? If she cast a fireball at an enemy, was it _her _fault if Khelgar or Casavir or Shandra stepped in its path? Everybody blamed her if someone got a little singed, but _she _wasn't the one jumping around, not paying attention to what was going on around her.

Everybody else seemed to think that the entire world revolved around them... and Sand was the worst. She had a good mind to wipe that smug, condescending smile off his face right now while he slept... but perhaps this wasn't the best time. She could wait. She could be patient. It wasn't as if he was going anywhere, he seemed quite content to follow Kail as another sycophant.

Not that she was following Kail, of course. She was only along because it was a choice between helping Kail or cleaning tables at the Sunken Flagon. Mosquitoes notwithstanding, this was the lesser of two evils.

_Look at her_, she thought, glaring at the sleeping bard. _She thinks she's so good, so important, but she is nothing but an attention-seeker. She probably arranged for everyone to 'inexplicably' come to West Harbor, just so that they could see the destruction and feel sorry for her and give her attention and pander to her. _It was sickening. Worse than the academy students sucking up to their teachers.

One day she would show both Kail _and_ Sand that they weren't as important as they thought.

o - o - o - o - o

When Bishop was woken by Qara, the first glimmer of daylight was beginning to filter through the Mere. It hardly surprised him, though. He was usually the last to be woken for a shift, possibly because nobody wanted to have to talk to him. That suited him just fine. It meant that he would get a full night of uninterrupted sleep.

Karnwyr was curled up beside Kial, concerned about the one he called 'alpha'. Well, that was fine. Karnwyr could be concerned about anybody he liked. And if he wanted to think of her that way... well, that was fine too. As long as the wolf didn't expect _him_ to start fawning like a dog too, it was all fine to him.

He took a deep breath, and the scents of the Mere flooded his nostrils. It had been a long time since he had been back here... not since he had almost lost his life in the fire that had consumed his village. And now it seemed that history was repeating itself, as history was wont to do.

He wondered how Kail would deal with it. Her initial reaction didn't seem too promising - giving yourself septicaemia was never a good idea - but wasn't entirely unexpected, at least to him. She had pulled away from her friends to grieve in solitude, which was what one could expect of her.

He had to handle the situation very carefully. She would pull away from anybody who showed her sympathy - something the idiot paladin couldn't understand - and he had worked too hard at manipulating her to throw that away now.

When his gaze drifted over her, he noticed that her eyes were open and she was staring at him. No, he realised... she was staring _through_ him, as Zhjaeve sometimes did. When no recognition or acknowledgement of him registered in her eyes, he took a couple of steps and crouched down in front of her. Still her gaze did not alter.

Then Karnwyr licked her neck, and she stroked his head for a moment. He whined in happiness, and Bishop let a sense of disgust travel from him to the wolf.

"So, you're awake after all," he said. She looked at him without expression, her eyes blank. There wasn't anything inside them that he recognised, no flicker of defiance, no flashes of humour, no aloof stare. Could it be that the destruction of her village had achieved what he had not? Had it pushed her over the edge, broken down her protective exterior? "Who are you?" he whispered.

She blinked at him, then sat up in her blanket.

"Wake the others. We have to leave, now."

"What? Why?"

"Because a storm is coming."

"Did you hit your head last night, wildcat?" he scoffed. "This is the best weather we've had in days."

At that moment, a strong wind blew through the campsite, whipping his cloak around his body and blowing out the fire. Kail just stood there as her own cloak billowed around her, stood there with her head tilted and her gaze unfocused, as if she was listening to something only she could hear. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it abated.

"It's not that kind of storm," she said calmly.

Not feeling inclined to argue with someone who was the focus of such unnatural weather, he left her and woke the others.


	64. Fear the Reaver

_64. Fear the Reaver_

Kail looked out over the Mere as her companions packed away their belongings and prepared to set out. When she heard footsteps approach from behind, she didn't turn around.

"How are you feeling?" Neeshka asked cautiously.

"I'm fine. Is everybody ready to go?"

"More or less."

"Kail?" said Grobnar, "I've just repacked your bag for you, but I can't find your flute, or your parchment and quill. Where are they? "

"At the house. I won't be needing them anymore."

"Err... really? Why's that?"

She looked at him, and he stepped back quickly.

"Let's go," she said, and stepped into the ruined village.

"Smells like demons... even a devil or two," said Neeshka. "This place has been hit by legions from the Lower Planes." Kail nodded.

"Know that this was not our intended destination," said Zhjaeve. "Something is wrong. We are close to where we are meant to be. Are there any ancient Illefarn ruins near your birth village? If so, that is where we must go."

"Yes. I know where we need to go," she replied. Near the ruins where Daeghun had sent her and Bevil to retrieve the first shard, so long ago, were other ruins that were closed to her, the door sealed against intrusion. Nobody knew what the ruins where, or how to get in, but she somehow _knew_ that that was where she needed to be.

"Know that only something of great power could have turned away our arrival from the ruins, even if they are close by."

"Something more powerful that teleporting around? Great," said Shandra.

"We should be on our guard. It is possible that whatever caused this disruption is still present. Such disruption may be due to our enemy seeking us, or..." Zhjaeve stopped speaking and tilted her head as she walked, as if listening to something on the edge of her hearing. "Do you hear something? It is like the sound... of a child, wailing."

"I don't hear anything," Kail lied.

"I don't either," said Shandra.

"I definitely don't hear anything. Must be something else you're hearing... or whatever it is you gith do," said Sand.

"It is like a vibration in the air, coming from somewhere nearby. You should lead, you have the knowing of this place more than I. Let us see where our path takes us. But no matter what, we must make our way to the ruins you spoke of."

Kail tried to ignore the ruins of the village around her, tried to ignore how exhausted she was, how much she wanted to sleep. Her dreams had been strange and confusing. She had dreamt of Daeghun, that he was still alive and searching for her. She had dreamed of Valear in Myth Drannor, and of Shaundakul. She dreamt that her deity spoke to her. She sensed that his words were important, but she could remember none of them after she awoke. None of them except a single warning; "Move quickly. A storm is coming." It seemed important to obey, so she did.

Something else had happened to her, something less benevolent, whilst she had been sitting playing her flute in the ruins of her home. She had begun to hear the voices of her friends in West Harbor, calling out in pain. She could tell from listening to the voices where Brother Merring had been killed. She could tell where the Mossfeld brothers had died fighting, one after the other. She knew where Georg fell, trying to rally the militia, and where Retta Starling had been killed protecting her children.

And now, as she walked through the Mere, she could hear more voices; voices that screamed and cried in old forms of common, and dialects of elvish that she could not understand. They were the voices of dead people, she knew. But it was more than that. They weren't just the voices of the dead, they were the voices of people who had been killed violently. Murdered.

And the Mere was full of them. The ones who had died more recently were louder than those who had been buried beneath the murky water of the Mere for centuries, but that didn't make her any less aware of them. Whether she understood their words or not did not mean that she didn't understand the violent manner in which they had died, at the hands of orcs, or lizardmen, or each other. The Mere was full of the bones of the dead, and their voices echoed around the silent swamp.

She could not tell anybody else about this. They would think that she was crazy, unstable. They'd feel it was their duty to constantly follow her, to keep an eye on her. That was the last thing that she wanted.

Zhjaeve stopped and knelt down to examine a mark on the ground. It was nothing but a patch of dark soil where the grass did not grow. It had been there for as long as Kail could remember.

"This is where the sound is coming from. The wailing of the child is strong here. What is this place?" asked the githzerai.

"Always been a scar on the ground, no grass ever grew over it," she shrugged.

"There is a familiar sensation about it... its not the sound. The vibration is in the air around it... almost metallic. It is powerful, very powerful. This place is a sacred place. Know that when we know more, we should return."

Return? She had no intention of ever coming back here. But she said nothing to Zhjaeve, merely led everybody through the village and out into the true Mere.

o - o - o - o - o

As she walked down the path from the village towards the Illefarn ruins, she found herself veering from side to side to avoid the places where people had been killed. She had walked this path before, but never heard the voices. And though she had always known that the waters of the Mere held a great number of bodies, she had never been able to point out their exact locations before.

No doubt the others were wondering about her erratic steps, but she ignored everybody else. For now, completing the Ritual and seeking vengeance against West Harbor's killers was the most important thing in the world. For now, nobody else mattered.

Living voices, those of her friends, occasionally reached her ears, though they were often drowned out by the cries of the dead.

"...can't believe she'd leave her flute..." she heard Grobnar saying quietly to someone.

"...hate this swamp..." Qara remarked a little later.

"...wish we had come earlier..." said Casavir.

"...wait til I get my hands on whoever did this..." added Khelgar, full of righteous fury.

The comments trailed off as she led them deeper and deeper into the Mere. Soon they were forced to walk in single file, the paths of dry ground too narrow for two people to walk abreast. The rest of the journey did not take long; half an hour after leaving the village, Kail spied the building she was looking for, and led everybody to its open door.

"The entrance... it is not sealed," said Zhjaeve suspiciously.

"So? The Illefarn portal opened on its own once I activated the fourth statue... maybe this door did too."

"I do not believe that is the case, Kalach-Cha. The song portal should have taken us straight inside the ruins, and back again."

"Then why put a door in at all?"

"That I do not know. Perhaps they feared that the song portal may be broken, or may fail after some time. It must have taken a great deal of strength and willpower to open this door."

"So we're probably not alone."

"Probably not."

"Good," she said, running her hands over the hilts of her weapons. Hopefully, whoever had destroyed West Harbor would be in there. And she would make them pay. She would flay them alive, make them suffer before they died for what they had done. She would visit upon them every torment imaginable.

"Lass, maybe ye better let me go first," said Khelgar.

"As you wish." After all, Khelgar wouldn't deprive her of the opportunity for vengeance. All she had to do was say the word and he would step back and let her take over.

He led the way, and they descended a small flight of stairs which opened up into a larger chamber. In the middle of the chamber was the fifth statue of purification, and in front of it... it looked like a skeleton, but it was huge, and shadows rolled off its cloaked form. And it wasn't alone, either. Four ghostly wraiths were floating above the ground around him.

"Oh gods, what is that?" whispered Shandra in horror.

"It is a thrall of the King of Shadows, a Shadow Reaver," said Zhjaeve. "And there behind it is the Statue of Purification."

Then, without warning, a beam of dark energy shot out from the Reaver and encompassed the statue. Before Kail could even think of moving, the beam ended, and all that was left of the statue was a half-melted stump of molten rock. The Reaver turned, and fixed her with its permanent grin.

"You have come far... for nothing," it said. "The statue's power is spent, another has taken it. But it will not stop us."

"Another has undergone the Ritual of Purification? You speak lies!" said Zhjaeve, taking a step forward.

"But it does not matter - the thief has not completed the rest of the ritual, the part _you_ bear. Once you are slain and the other statues cast down, none shall stand against us."

"Then as long as the other one who completed the ritual lives, we have a chance. All we have to do is defeat you."

"Ah, githzerai. You cannot stop me. Why the illithids used your people as slaves is beyond me, it was a waste to you both."

"And why the King of Shadows would use you for a similar purpose is not known to me, but the fact that you cannot break his grip tells of your weakness."

"Weakness? My power is enough to defeat you, more than enough to bring these ruins down upon you. Even if you should wound me, I shall reform within the Vale of Meredelain, as strong as before. I cannot be stopped."

As if on command, the wraiths rushed forward, and Casavir, Khelgar and Shandra hurried to meet them with their weapons. Sand, Qara, Zhjaeve and Elanee began casting spells, whilst Grobnar sang his song to convey Ironskin onto everybody, and Neeshka and Bishop fired arrows at the Reaver.

Kail stood still, rooted to the spot. She barely even noticed what was going on around her. All of her focus was turned inwards, to something that she could not see, or touch, but could _feel_. Anger, like she had never felt before, coursed through her veins, and the more angry she felt, the more angry she became. It fed on itself, growing larger and larger, until it threatened to overwhelm her. And, just when she thought that she contained all the anger she could ever feel, she heard an echo of the words spoken by one of the Statues of Purification.

_Take this Blessing of Cleansing. May it burn away the darkness in your travels._

Kail didn't know what caused the room to fill up with such a blinding white light; it could have been Sand, casting Sunburst -- a powerful spell capable of inflicting potentially massive damage; it could have been Zhjaeve, channelling energy from the positive energy plane through her body as she turned undead; it could have been the completely unexpected light that shot out from her own body and encompassed the Reaver and its wraith minions inside a searing arch of light; it was probably all three, happening simultaneously, that caused it. But all Kail really knew, was that for one brief moment everything was blindingly light before, mercifully, her vision went black.


	65. Denial

_65. Denial_

Bishop fired another arrow at the Reaver that had ambushed them with an army of undead as they made their way back to Crossroad Keep. The fighting was fierce, and everybody was struggling for their lives.

On the other side of the clearing, Khelgar, Casavir and Shandra had engaged a group of zombies that were harassing Sand and Qara. The two casters, meanwhile, were sending their spells at the Reaver, trying to bring down its defences. Neeshka was trying to fend off a skeleton, whilst Grobnar sang some inane song that was probably supposed to be uplifting. Zhjaeve was swinging her mace around at another group of skeletons, while Kail had engaged the Reaver in hand to hand combat. Elanee had shfted into the form of a bear, and was crushing zombies in a fierce bear-hug.

Suddenly, favour turned against them. The zombies surged forward, and one of them hurled a hand-axe with all its might. The axe flew toward Casavir, planting itself in the paladin's head. The man collapsed, dead before he hit the ground. Oh well, no loss there.

"Casavir!" shouted Kail, transferring her attention to the fallen man. With her back conveniently turned, the Reaver raised its scythe, preparing to slice the woman's head off. He swore silently to himself, and dashed towards the pair. At the last moment, he drew a knife that he always carried and used it to deflect the blow. But the Reaver brought its scythe back again in an arc, and the blade sliced through his leather armour. He felt cold steel against his chest, and the blade came away from him with a line of blood along its edge.

Before the Reaver could strike again, Kail was there, in front of him. She raised her hands and a plume of blistering heat rushed from them, engulfing the Reaver in fire. When the fire ceased, the Reaver was still there, grinning evilly at them. What power it must have! He had seen the same amount of fire -- dragon-fire, he now knew -- fuse a blade golem into a stone floor.

"It's no use!" Kail shouted at the others. "Scatter!" It was the first intelligent thing he had heard her say since West Harbor, and he didn't hesitate in turning and running into the forest.

He ran until his lungs felt as if they were burning, all the while hearing footfalls behind him that matched him pace for pace. He did not think that his follower was the Reaver or the zombies, though; the undead did not move that fast.

When he stopped and turned, Kail did too. She was breathing heavily, but didn't seem harmed.

"I hope the others are okay," she panted, looking back worriedly.

"Forget about them," he said. "We need to find somewhere safe to hide before that Reaver catches up to us."

"But where can we hide from that thing? Nowhere is safe from it!" she said desperately.

He looked around, walking slowly as he kept an eye out for a hidden place. Then he spotted a cliff in the near distance, and noticed a patch of darkness at the top. He pointed at it, and she followed his finger with her gaze.

"Up there," he said. "A cave. It'll be safe."

"But it's so high up!"

"What's the matter, wildcat? Afraid of a little climb?" he asked, setting off towards the cliff. After a minute, she followed him.

"What makes you think we'll be safe up there?"

"Zombies and skeletons won't be able to climb up there, and if the Reaver comes, we'll see him in time and have a defensible position."

"Alright, that makes sense," she conceded at last, and said nothing else until they reached the cliff. "Do you want to go first?"

"If you're afraid to have me at your back, sure," he said. She narrowed her eyes at him but he ignored her and stepped forward, grasping onto some of the creepers that covered the cliff-face. The climb was strenuous, the cliff almost vertical, and once or twice he heard her swear as she struggled to find her footing.

After what seemed like an eternity of climbing he eventually came to the lip of the cave, then hauled himself over the edge. As Kail did likewise, he inspected the cave. It was longer than it was high, wth a roof that sloped downwards towards the back.

"Cosy," she remarked drily, subjecting it to the same scrutiny as him.

"I'm glad you think so. Personally I would have gone for 'bare'."

"I think there's some leaves back there... they must have blown in on windy days. I'll use them to try to get a fire started."

"Just a small one, wildcat. We don't want the Reaver to see it."

She nodded, and set to work building a fire as he cleared a space on the floor from rocks and stones. Before long a small fire was burning merrily, banishing the shadows from the cave.

"You're bleeding!" Kail gasped, seeing his wound for the first time.

"Just a scratch. I've had worse," he shrugged.

"Take your shirt off and sit down," she commanded. "I'll take a look at it."

He removed his armour and his shirt, the cold air causing goosebumps to rise on his bare skin. The gash in his chest was a bit longer than he had first thought, and was bleeding quite heavily. Probably with the exertion of the climb, he decided.

Kail, meanwhile, had taken a blanket from her pack and laid it on the ground. He sat on it while she poured water from her canteen onto a strip of material from her pack.

She dabbed at the slash on his chest, examining it as she did so with her head tilted, like a bird looking for a snail amongst leaves, he thought. She applied pressure to the bandage, holding it still to stem the flow of blood.

He noticed her eyes running over the rest of his body, taking in his other scars. Scars that had long healed and faded to varying degrees. When she noticed that he had noticed her watching him, she pulled the cloth away and cleared her throat.

"Well, this is one that won't become a scar," she said. Then she lay her hand over the cut and closed her eyes. She said something quietly under her breath, and he felt his flesh knit itself back together again. He shivered as magical energy passed through him. Then Kail opened her eyes, removed her hand, and smiled.

"You can tell a lot about a person by their scars," she said.

"Oh really? And what do my scars say about me?"

"You said you once worked for Luskan. Did you ever have to kill people for them?"

"Of course. Luskans are only interested in people who are 'useful'. People who will do their dirty work for them, so that they can look their 'friends' in the eye and swear on the gods that their own hands are clean."

She ran her fingers across his chest, across the newly healed skin.

"Do you think you could kill me?"

"If I had to," he replied, resisting the urge to flinch at her touch. The tips of her fingers tickled his skin terribly.

"I guess I better keep a close eye on you then," she said, leaning her body towards his.

"I guess so."

"A very, very close eye," she said. Now her face was so close to his that he could feel her warm breath against his lips. She kept her distance enticingly close for a moment, her face a hair's breadth away from his. Then she brought her lips to his, as soft as a butterfly's touch.

She kissed him softly, tentatively, a gesture at odds with her normally strong, confident exterior. But that didn't stop his desire for her from flaming; if anything, it made him want her more. He wrapped his arms around her and lay back, pulling her down on top of him.

Gods, her lips were soft! Every kiss felt like a caress. She ran her hands up his chest, over his shoulders, to wrap her arms around his neck. She felt so good in his arms, and her being there felt so right. It felt like she belonged there, like all his life he had been missing something, and now he had found it.

After what seemed like an eternity of soft kisses she pulled her head away from his. Her cheeks were flushed and her grey eyes were bright and animated.

It was then that he realised that he wanted this woman. Badly. But he didn't just want her for the evening, he wanted her _every_ evening, every day. He wanted to wake up to her every morning, fall asleep with her every night. And he wanted her to love him, as much as he loved her.

She must have detected something of his mood, because instead of ruining the moment with words, she merely kissed him again. And neither of them noticed when the fire died out.

o - o - o - o - o

He woke up suddenly, and sat up. Sweat was soaking his body and the blankets of his bed. His empty bed. No sign of Kail. Thank the gods, it had all been a dream! Nothing more than a dream. And dreams didn't mean anything. He didn't really love Kail, it had all been his imagination.

He lay back, willing his breathing rate to return to normal. He raised his hand to his chest, running his fingers along where his dream-injury had been. His body still remembered the touch of her fingers, his lips the caress of hers. It had all been so real... the feeling of her warm soft flesh against his, the way her lips teased his skin and her teeth nipped playfully, the smooth contours of her body under his hands....

_No!_ He had to stop thinking about it. He had to think about other things. Casavir. Yes, Casavir had died in his dream. That had been an added bonus. He wouldn't mind seeing the paladin's head split open in real life, just like he wouldn't mind seeing Kail kissing him... _No!_ He wasn't supposed to be thinking about that.

The shadow! Of course! Why hadn't he realised it sooner? This was one of those dreams sent by the shadow to confuse and disarm him. Tomorrow he would have to have a word with Zhjaeve about those wards.

Pleased that he had been intelligent enough to see through the shadow's plan, he closed his eyes and tried to forget about the way his heart, long silent and cold, felt like it was moving in his chest when he thought of Kail.

o - o - o - o - o

"Hey, Githzerai!" Bishop called to the woman in the courtyard. She stopped and waited for him to catch up while she looked at him with her cold, knowing eyes.

"My name is Zhjaeve," she said, quietly but firmly in a tone that told him she would brook no nonsense.

"Fine. Zhjaeve. Whatever. Listen, whatever you and Sand did to stop the shadow from getting into our dreams isn't working anymore. Last night I had another shadow-incluenced dream."

"You are mistaken. Know that I checked my wards just last night, and they are intact, as strong as ever. Nor has anybody else complained of bad dreams. Tell me, what did your dream involve?"

"Oh, the usual. Fighting hordes of undead, people dying."

"Those do not sound like shadow-dreams to me. Just the dreams of somebody who is preoccupied. Do you worry about the shadow often?"

"About as much as the next person, I guess," he replied, squirming slightly under her gaze. He hated the way her eyes said _'I know everything about you'_.

"Dreams often tell us things that our minds are not able to cope with easily while we are awake. Perhaps your dreams indicate that you are more worried about the shadow than you let on... or even consciously realise."

"That's crazy. I know exactly how I feel. Do you think I could feel something that strongly and not even recognise it?" She turned, and began walking to the tavern. "Wait! Where are you going?" he called after her.

"Know that you are in denial. And until you move past the denial, you will listen to nothing that I say. So I may as well save my breath. Now I must check on the Kalach-Cha, and see if her condition has changed."

"Fine!" he shouted at her back as she moved off again. "I'm not surprised you don't understand. You're not even human!"

Some of the men working on the reconstruction stared at him, and he glared back at them. Then, with nothing better to do, he went to look for Casavir. Goading the tin-headed idiot always made him feel better.

o - o - o - o - o

Casavir stared into the half-full glass of water. This morning was not the first that he had forgone prayer recently... but the only one he had forgone it by choice. He glanced again to the woman sat in front of the fire; her short hair was messy and tangled, and she looked like she hadn't bathed in days. Not that any of them had, but Kail looked worst of all, with those black marks still running down her face, and the black, striped scars on her arms.

_"There is nothing physically wrong with her,"_ Zhjaeve had said the day before as they made their way back to Crossroad Keep.

Nothing wrong with her? Then why was she like... this?! After she had done whatever it was she did to destroy the Reaver, she had passed out. He himself had carried her through the song portal, back to the ruins of Arvahn, and from there, he had taken it in turns with Shandra and Bishop, carrying her home whilst she was unconscious. When she had finally woken up, a full day after the incident with the Reaver, a full day's walk away from the Keep, she had just been... not there.

Her gaze had settled on nothing, her eyes were vacant. She walked unseeing in a straight line, had to be guided around obstacles or she walked into them. She did not talk, did not respond to external stimuli, and no matter how many times Elanee healed her, her condition did not change. It was as if her mind was just gone.

And to make matters worse, they had returned to the Keep last night to find Kana waiting for them in a _very_ agitated state. It seemed that Sir Nevalle was here to talk to Kail, so Kana had ushered them to the tavern and told them she would try to stall Nevalle for another day. If Kail wasn't able to function before then... there was no telling what would happen.

Neeshka had stayed beside Kail all night. Everybody else had gone to their beds, either back inside the Keep or taking a spare room in the tavern, to rest and renew their spells and their bodies.

The door of the tavern opened, and Zhjaeve came in, followed a minute later by Bishop. Now, everybody was here, seated around various tables in the inn. And the mood was even more sombre and melancholy than usual. Even Qara seemed to have nothing to say.

Zhjaeve went straight to Kail and began checking the young woman over again. He put down his glass and joined her as she tilted back Kail's head and looked into her empty eyes. Neeshka looked on nervously, still holding Kail's hand.

"Is there any change?" he asked after a moment.

Before Zhjaeve could reply, the door of the tavern swung open and Sir Nevalle walked in, looking around until he spied Kail. Elanee stepped in front of him before he could approach.

"Sir Nevalle. What can we do for you?" she asked.

"I just heard that you're back, and I need to talk to Kail. In private, if you don't mind," he replied, trying to step around the elf. She matched his movements, forcing him back.

"I'm afraid Kail is not well at the moment. You will have to come back later."

"Yes, I'd heard something about that. What's wrong with her?"

"We don't know."

"What do you mean? Haven't you tried healing her?"

"Know that the Kalach-Cha's wounds are not physical, but emotional and mental," said Zhjaeve, straightening up from her examination of Kail. "She has lost all of her family and friends, seen her home town in ruins. She has also undertaken a powerful ritual which has no doubt taken its toll on her reserves. I believe that this, along with the stress than you and Lord Nasher have heaped on her by ordering her to take care of this Keep, has merely been too much, and her mind has temporarily shut down to protect itself. Know that this is a form of shock, and that no amount of healing can fix this."

Nevalle sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose as if had a headache.

"This changes things," he said at last. "You're going to have to start looking into alternative ways to stave off this... King of Shadows."

"We do not need alternative ways," said Zhjaeve. "We have the Kalach-Cha."

"The Kalach-Cha? Look at her, she's broken. She might never recover. And where will we be then?"

"Know that even something that is broken can be reforged anew, better than it was before it was sundered. Just as the Sword of Gith will be made whole again, so will the Kalach-Cha."

"Actually," said Sand, clearing his throat. "I've been thinking about it, and I believe there _is_ another way to destroy the King of Shadows. It won't be any easier than Kail doing it... in fact, it will be a lot harder. Probably almost impossible, actually."

"What way, Sand?" asked Nevalle, slight irritation in his voice. Casavir was surprised at that. Knights, especially those of The Nine, were supposed to be above showing that sort of thing.

"Temporarily disrupt the King of Shadow's link to the Shadow Weave," said Sand.

"And what will that accomplish?"

"Well, he'll either be destroyed, or he'll turn back to the Weave. He only turned to the Shadow Weave in the first place because his link to the Weave was interrupted."

"Oh my, that really is a brilliant idea," said Grobnar brightly. "Quite impossible to implement, though."

"Impossible? Why?" asked Nevalle.

"Well," said Sand, "it could be done in one of two ways, both equally difficult. The first would be to cast a spell powerful enough to interrupt the flow of the Shadow Weave."

"That doesn't sound too difficult," said Nevalle. Sand rolled his eyes.

"And that is why _I_ am a wizard, and _you_ hack things to death with a lump of sharpened metal. There is only one time that such a spell was ever cast. It was cast by Karsus, a Netherese mage who sought to take control of the Weave. The spell he created had catastrophic effects. It killed the goddess of magic... or rather, she sacrificed herself so that Karsus could not gain control of the Weave... all magical items were destroyed, magic ceased to function, and the Netherese floating cities came crashing to the ground. Mages and sorcerers had their powers burnt out, others went mad, and anything that was imbued with or strengthened by arcane magic never worked again. Magic was changed forever. The spell died with Karsus, and it would take somebody with infinitely more knowledge and power than myself to try to recreate that spell. All of the wizards and liches in the world combined could not accomplish it."

"I see," said Nevalle thoughtfully. "And what was the _other_ impossible way of interrupting the Shadow Weave?"

"Kill Shar, goddess of dark magic and controller of the Shadow Weave," Sand shrugged. "Of course, it would take another god, or a mortal powerful beyond belief and with the right tools, to do that. In the end, it might even be easier to kill the King of Shadows himself." Nevalle sighed again.

"I'm going to have to return to Neverwinter, to appraise Lord Nasher of the... situation here. If there's any change in Kail's condition, send a messenger to let me know. I'll be returning within the week anyway. Until then, keep thinking of ways to defeat this King of Shadows. Until the Captain of Crossroad Keep is recovered, there's nothing else we can do."

He turned and left, and his cloak even swirled majestically behind him. The only other person Casavir had seen able to do that was Kail. He looked again at the pale, vacant woman. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to go and say a prayer to Tyr for her now.

o - o - o - o - o

Kail was in darkness. It was around her, and she was inside it, and they were one. She sank lower and lower into its depths, letting her body float downwards, until she stopped sinking. Then she opened her eyes, and looked around her.

"There you are!" said Amie, smiling. Her long blonde hair was plaited down her back. Behind her, Bevil gave her a conspirational grin. "We thought you were going to be late."

"How could I miss this?" she asked, linking arms with her friend. "We're going to beat those Mossfeld brothers in the Harvest Brawl, and claim the trophy for ourselves. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"That's right," said Bevil, taking her other arm. "I just hope they don't hold it against us too much after. You _know_ how long they can hold a grudge for."

Together they walked down the path from the bridge into the village. Everybody was out and about today; Galen, a travelling merchant who came to West Harbor twice a year, had set up his cart near the centre of the green. People flocked around it, calling out prices for tobacco, and new pans, the sorts of things that weren't readily available to them.

Children dashed through the crowds, chasing each other in mock-combat. Some, including Bevil's youngest siblings, were queued up to bob for apples, whilst victorious apple-bobbers chose their prizes.

At the side of the road, Lewy Jones had several of his pigs inside a pen, ready for the hog-rearing competition. Judges, distinguishable only by the flowers pinned to their farmer's shirts, ran a careful eye over each animal, as a crowd watched the proceedings.

Something moving in her peripheral vision caught Kail's attention. She slowed her steps, and peered into the shadows between two houses. There, stood watching her, was a tall, leathery-skinned woman with pale, luminous eyes.

"What is it?" asked Amie. Kail noticed that her friends had stopped with her, and were watching her with concerned expressions.

"Over there. Didn't you see her?" she asked, turning back to the houses. But the woman was gone. She just wasn't there. Kail shook her friends' grips from her arms and jogged over to the shadows where she had seen the woman, looking for any sign on her. There was none.

"If you keep this up, we really _are_ going to miss beating the Mossfelds," said Bevil, taking her arm in his.

"Yeah... I guess I was just seeing things," she relented, allowing Bevil to lead her back to Amie.

"The winner!" called a voice just behind her. "Lewy Jones' pig, weighing in at eighty-five pounds!" The judge bent down to put a ribbon around the animal's neck. That's when Kail realised that it wasn't a pig stood there, but a wolf. It watched her with golden eyes as the judge fastened a blue ribbon around its neck, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was bending over a real live wolf.

She took a step towards the pen, but Amie took hold of her arm and ushered her away. When she looked back she saw only a large pig; the wolf was gone.

"Have you noticed anything... strange... happening recently?" she asked her friends.

"Well, your father is selling some of his bows at a cheaper price than usual," said Bevil. "That's pretty strange, right?"

"My... father?" An image tried to form inside her mind, swirling around and around.

"Yeah. Daeghun. Are you _sure_ you're okay, Kalach-Cha?" Bevil asked, his face a mask of concern.

"What did you call me?!" she hissed, grasping the front of his shirt with both her hands.

"What are you doing? I called you 'Kail'. You know, your _name_?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, releasing his shirt. "I'm just not feeling very well."

"Do you want to skip the fight?" asked Amie. "We can always beat the Mossfelds next year."

"Next year..." she repeated, sure, for a moment, that there wasn't going to be a 'next year'. But that was just crazy. Years happened on their own. They would never run out. "No, I'll be fine, I think."

"Alright. Just... say if you want to stop," Amie smiled.

Together they entered the ring -- which was actually more of a square -- and faced Wyl, Ward and Webb; their nemeses since childhood.

"Here are the rules," said Brother Merring, overseeing the fight. "There are to be no kicks or punches below the belt or to the face. Weapons are forbidden, as are magical items, but spells are allowed. There is to be no throwing of stones, shoes, or other items. Once you've been wrestled to the ground and held there for a count of five, you're out. The winning team is the one with the most members standing. Understand?"

Everybody in the circle nodded their heads, and Brother Merring took up his hammer, ready to strike the starting bell.

Somebody moved in the distance behind Wyl, and Kail let her gaze follow the movement. It was an elven woman, with honey-coloured skin and warm brown eyes, who watched the fight even as she moved away. So preoccupied was she with the woman, that she didn't hear the bell ringing, nor see Wyl rushing towards her. He charged into her with his shoulders bent, knocking her off her feet and carrying her to the ground.

"One... two..." counted Brother Merring. Kail grabbed Wyl's shirt, brought her foot upwards so that it rested on his stomach, and rolled backwards, straightening her leg to throw him off her. Then she released his shirt and stood to her feet before he had chance to recover.

"Woo, good one Kail! I know you can do it!" shouted a voice in the crowd. She turned, and found herself looking at a beautiful blonde-haired woman.

"Shandra?" she asked with a frown, right before Wyl careened into her again. This time she slipped out of his grip and held him to the floor in a shoulder-lock. When Brother Merring counted to five, Wyl merely scowled and left the circle. Kail turned her attention to Ward, who had Amie's arm pinned behind her and was trying to wrestle the young woman to the ground. She tiptoed around behind him, and prepared to throw her best punch at his ribs in the hope of winding him.

"It is not honourable to attack an opponent who cannot see you coming," called a voice from the crowd. Kail turned, and saw a tall, dark-haired man, handsome in a way, looking at her disapprovingly. He was wearing armour so shiny that it almost dazzled her as it reflected the sun. She closed her eyes against the glare, and when she opened them again, he was gone.

Amie cried out in anguish, and Kail turned and gave Ward the hardest punch she could manage. He grunted with the impact, and Amie managed to twist herself out of his grip. Even as the young woman turned she was casting a spell. Kail sensed the air _fizzle_, and Ward dropped to the ground, snoring even before he hit the dirt. Amie sat on him with her legs crossed as Brother Merring counted to five.

Even as he finished counting, Bevil wrestled Webb to the ground, and managed to put him in a choke-hold. Webb struggled frantically, but it was futile. Bevil was heavier than he, and Kail knew that it took more skill than Webb possessed to break a choke-hold. Lucas had already shown her how to do it.

"And we have three new Harvest Brawl champions!" said Brother Merring, opening the fence and allowing them out of the ring. Webb made a point of coughing a few times melodramatically, whilst Bevil merely grinned. He had been waiting to win a brawl for years.

Kail hugged her friends, and they turned to Brother Merring, ready to receive their trophy.

"Child, you're bleeding," said Merring, frowning at her shirt. She looked down, and saw that the front of her clothes were red with her own blood which was flowing from a long gash on her chest. Strange, she didn't _remember_ hurting herself, and nobody in the ring had possessed a weapon. "Here, let me heal you," said Merring. He put his hands on her shoulders as he chanted, and she felt magic rushing through her body. "Take this Blessing of Communion. May its soothing light comfort you on your travels."

"What did you say?" she asked, taking a step back.

"I said you really ought to get some rest. Take it easy for a while... we'll be doing the Harvest Brawl ceremony later this evening."

"Oh. I think you're right," she said, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand. "I'm really quite tired. Perhaps I'll go and lie down for a while. I'll catch up with you both later, okay?" she asked Bevil and Amie. They both nodded, and assured her that they'd be fine; Amie wanted to enter the magic contest, and Bevil wanted to try his hand at the archery competition.

She wandered away from the crowd, from the screaming children, from the laughing women and the shouting men. On the other side of town, somebody beckoned her, and she squinted at the figure. It appeared to be a woman. A woman with... horns and a tail! How odd. The woman beckoned again, and she took another step forwards.

"Kail." The voice behind her had a note of authority in it, and she stopped in her tracks. She turned, and stared at the tall elven man who was watching her. He wore green armour, and a sword was belted at his waist. His grey and green cloak rippled with the breeze, and his long, black hair blew gently across his face, in front of his bright blue eyes.

"Valear?" she asked, barely even recognising the man she had once known intimately. Rather than the furs and leathers which were the usual attire of his people, he was wearing this.... green armour! On the breast of his armour was a crest, the image of a cloud overlain by the image of a greatsword. What it meant she did not know. He seemed to understand her confusion, and nodded to confirm that it was really him.

She ran up to him and threw her arms around him, holding him tight. After a brief moment he reciprocated, holding her against him. But instead of being a comfortable gesture, she found herself squirming instead against the hard armour he wore, like a barrier between them. When he sensed her moving, he put her down, and looked into her eyes.

"What are you doing here, Kail?"

"What do you mean? I live here. But what are _you_ doing here? Have the elders decided to move the tribe to the Mere?" He sighed as she spoke, and shook his head.

"Kail, Kail... this isn't real. You're not really here. This is all the work of your imagination. In reality, West Harbor is destroyed. See."

He waved his hand, and everything around her... flickered. Gone were the women and children, gone were the pigs and the merchant cart and Brother Merring. Gone were the Mossfeld Brothers, and Georg, and Amie and Bevil. In its place was the image of a barren land, scorched by fire and reduced to rubble.

"No, no, make it stop!" she cried, and the village returned to as it had been, fully of people, full of life. "You're not really Valear!" she said, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "You're... you're the King of Shadows, trying to confuse me, trying to make me betray my people. But I won't! I won't do it, I won't betray them!"

"I don't have much time, Kail. This sending won't last forever, much as I wish it was so. Listen carefully to me. I've been sent because you've not been listening to the wind. You aren't doing what you need to be doing, you're not moving fast enough, and the shadow is gaining on you. If you don't start moving again soon, if you don't start fighting, you're going to die. Some of the Knights of the Shadow Sword are willing to come with me, to help you, but we're over a year away, and we'll never make it in time. So you have to do things yourself. This is the best I can do."

"I don't believe you. If this is all in my head, then how can you be here? If everything here is the work of my imagination, then so are you!" she said, pleased that she had caught him in an obvious lie.

"Oh, I'm real," he said wryly. "And I'm here because... well... we have... ah... a link. A connection, of sorts," he said evasively.

"Because of our relationship?"

"Ahh... noooo," he said, positively _fidgeting!_ "Look, I can't tell you the how and the why. It isn't my place, and if you survive the King of Shadows -- which I'm sure you _will_, by the way -- then I promise everything will be explained to you. All of your questions will be answered. I'll even help you, if you'll accept my help. You won't have to worry about... well... being found out, for one."

"Being found out? What do you mean? There's nothing for people to 'find out'." Valear merely rolled his eyes, and pulled her towards him for a less rib-crushing hug.

"Stop denying who you are, Kail. And stop living in this dream, this fantasy. It isn't real. It's a trap. A trick that your mind is playing against you. Don't give in to it, or what opens your eyes and starts moving your body around won't be _you_."

"I don't like it when you say these things," she scowled, pulling away from him. Why did he always have to be so bloody _cryptic_?

"I have to go now. And it's time for you to wake up. I just want you to know that it was harder leaving you than it was leaving my family."

"Leaving me? What do you mean, are you going somewhere?" she asked, starting to panic.

"Wake up, Kail," he replied. Without warning, the wind picked up, screaming around them both, and Kail closed her eyes to protect them from the dust that blew with it. When she opened them again, Valear was gone, and she felt herself starting to rise, back to the darkness, back to the light.


	66. Girls Kick Ass

_66. Girls Kick Ass_

The first thing that met Kail's eyes when she opened them was fire. Before her, a fire was burning away, slowly consuming logs in a fireplace that looked somewhat familiar. She looked around, and saw that she was inside the tavern in Crossroad Keep. Strange... she hadn't even remembered coming back here. All she could remember was being in West Harbor on the day of the Harvest Brawl. The day when she had started to lose everything.

"Hey, you're awake!" said Neeshka. The tiefling was sitting in a chair next to her own. "How do you feel? Are you hungry? Do you want ale?"

Hungry? Yes... she was hungry. When was the last time she ate? It must have been just before the Harvest Brawl. No... no... she remembered being inside some mines. That was the last time she had eaten anything. Yes, she ate travel rations. Inside a mine. In... Arvhan!

Everything came tumbling back; the destruction of West Harbor, the Reaver, the way she had lost everything and not even been able to bring herself to cry about it.

"I can't do it," she whispered, her voice hoarse through dryness.

"Can't do what?" asked Neeshka worriedly.

"I can't defeat him. The King of Shadows. I can't do it."

"Of course you can! And you have me here to help you. And the others, too. But I'm here, and that's what counts!"

"You don't understand," she said. The weight of her task, the sheer enormity of it, which was what had driven her mind back inside itself, was now returning. She wanted to go back to West Harbor, to the place in her mind where she was happy... but she couldn't. Valear had said she wasn't safe there. Because he said she would die if she didn't start running. "The King of Shadows is part of the shadow weave. The entire empire of Netheril wouldn't dare face him. The strongest warriors and wizards in the whole of Illefarn couldn't stop him. A _dragon_ couldn't defeat him. What hope do I have? It's useless."

"Don't talk like that! Sure, nobody's been able to stop him so far, but that doesn't mean it's impossible. You've got this ritual, right? That's going to weaken him."

"A half-finished ritual with one piece missing."

"And you have the Sword of Gith, which you're going to reforge. That's a pretty powerful weapon right there."

"I don't know how to reforge it."

"And you've got this Keep full of soldiers and people who want to help you."

"A crumbled Keep with a handful of green farmers who couldn't turn back a group of kobolds with sticks, much less an army of undead."

"And you have you. You're a good fighter, and you have bits of dragon inside you, and the blood of a god in your veins."

"The blood of the god of murder, which will taint me and twist me into something worse than the King of Shadows if I embrace it."

"Right, you're coming with me," said Neeshka. She stood, and pulled Kail to her feet and out the door of the tavern. As Kail protested, she pulled her by the hand around to the back of the Keep, to a training ground that was full of Greycloaks who were practising the fine art of repelling invading straw dummies.

"Everybody out," ordered Neeshka, and began removing her weapons. The Greycloaks milled around aimlessly for a moment, then scattered when she glared at them again. Kail tried to sit down, exhausted from lack of food and drink, but Neeshka pulled her to her feet and then took away her weapons. She placed all of the daggers in a pile on the floor, and took up a ready stance.

"What are you doing?" Kail asked wearily.

"I'm going to knock some sense into you. So you can either fight me, or let me beat you senseless."

"I'm not going to fight you, Neeshka," she replied. The other woman immediately kicked her in the arm, then back-handed her across the face. "Stop it, I'm not going to fight you!"

Neeshka punched her in the ribs, then used her momentum to spin her over her back and to the floor. Kail gasped where she lay, winded and bruised.

"Why are you doing this?" she panted. "It hurts."

"I told you. Someone needs to knock some sense into you. Without killing you, of course. I mean, if it's all pointless and useless or whatever, then you may as well just lie there and let me beat you up, huh?"

"Yes. I might as well just lie here," she sighed. But Neeshka was having none of it; the tiefling hauled her to her feet in a surprising display of strength.

"Pathetic. You don't even get up when you're knocked over," Neeshka sneered.

"I'm not pathetic!" hissed Kail. As Neeshka swung her leg again for another kick, Kail blocked with the outside of her leg, and punched the other woman in the ribs. But instead of backing off, Neeshka swung with her fist, and caught Kail's cheek. The blow sent her spinning, and she fell to the floor again. What she didn't realise was that two days without food or water had made her slow and weak. She tried to crawl to her knees, but Neeshka hauled her to her feet again, then swung for another punch. The hit landed on Kail's shoulder, and made her cry out in pain. The tiefling wasn't holding back _at all_. Her strikes were at full strength.

"I'm not going to stop if you beg, you know," said Neeshka. "I'm just going to keep hitting you and hitting you until you start fighting back, and stop grovelling like some mangy dog." She swung again, a round-house punch, which Kail blocked.

When she blocked the punch, Kail spun, and kicked one of Neeshka's legs out from behind her. Grabbing hold of the woman's leather armour, she pulled her to the floor, using gravity to help her. Neeshka landed and rolled backwards, coming elegantly to her feet again.

Unlike their sparring, which was done to keep their skills polished, this was a full-fledged fight; Kail soon realised that Neeshka wasn't going to stop attacking, and she put all of her effort into blocking and striking. She knew that her body was undoubtedly covered in bruises, and one of her teeth felt a little loose, but was gratified that Neeshka was also sporting a black eye, and favouring her left side a little.

Poised for another kick, Kail was stood on one leg, when suddenly her vision blurred, and the world seemed to spin around her. She collapsed to the ground, unable to move her aching body to stand. She hurt all over; there wasn't a limb that didn't ache, and her lungs felt like they were burning. All she could do was sit there, panting and shivering, hoping that whatever blow Neeshka landed next wouldn't be _too_ painful. But instead of striking, Neeshka merely crouched down in front of her.

"How do you feel now?" the tiefling asked.

"I hurt like hell," said Kail. She felt tears spring into her eyes. "I miss home. I let them down, I got them killed," she said. Neeshka pulled her into a hug. "I don't want to be weak," Kail sobbed. Finally, she let herself cry, shedding long-overdue, unrestrained tears for everything that had happened to her, for everybody she had lost.

She had no idea how long they sat there for, but eventually her sobs began to slow and her body stopped shaking with crying and started shaking with cold and pain. Hunger and thirst also made their presence known, and conscious that she had made a couple of large teery wet patches on Neeshka's shirt, she pulled herself away from her friend's embrace.

"What do you want to do?" Neeshka asked after a moment.

"I want to have a hot meal and a drink. Then I want to hunt down whoever destroyed West Harbor and make them pay. Painfully."

"Good," Neeshka smiled. She stood, and helped Kail to her feet. Then she wrapped an arm around the bard, and they limped their way back to the tavern together. "And you know, you're going to defeat the King of Shadows. Because girls kick ass."

"That we do," Kail agreed with a small chuckle.

"But you might want to have a bath first. You look like hell. Your face is all black, and I don't want to _know_ what you were thinking when you did that to your arms..."

As the two women disappeared indoors, a crow alighted on the ground from a nearby tree. It had memories of these women, memories of being fed by them, and had followed them to this place from its home in the Mere. Seeing violence, it had hoped for a meal. But there was no food to be had, down on the ground. There was nothing but bare earth and pebbles, and a cold biting wind that ruffled its feathers. For some reason, it felt pleased about something. It didn't know what it felt pleased about, only that things were now right.

The crow shook its head, and returned to the Mere.


	67. Snowed in and under

_67. Snowed in and under_

Neeshka pulled the fur-lined collar of her coat up further, trying to keep the cold from seeping into her clothes. Though better able to stand the cold than other races because of her fiendish blood, that didn't mean she had to _like_ it. Still, this was the first chance she had had in _three whole days_ to get out of the Keep, and she wasn't about to let it pass.

"Remind me again what we're doing?" said Elanee. The elf's skin had turned blue, and she was hugging herself, trying to keep warm.

"It's called 'having fun'," said Shandra. She didn't seem to be handling the cold too badly, but then again, she was probably used to harsher winters than Elanee. From what Neeshka could tell, there was never much snow in the Mere.

"And how does wading through three feet of snow constitute as 'having fun'?"

"Lighten up, tree-hugger," said Neeshka. "We're here now." 'Here' was a small courtyard that was just outside the main Keep. Once, a catapult had stood here. Now there was only snow.

"Okay... now what?" asked Elanee.

"Now we gather up as much snow as humanly... or elvenly... possible. We pile it up into a big mound, and we make a giant snow-Grobnar out of it."

"What? Why?"

"Because it will be fun to see Her Highness try to melt it," said Shandra, rolling her eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Plus, you know... we never get any time to just do stuff. Normal stuff, like building snowmen, and having girly talks, and all that" said Neeshka, getting starting on the snow.

"'Girly talks'?" said Elanee skeptically.

"Yeah. Like... you know, we've seen you making moon-eyes at Casavir and we wonder when you and he are going to get your heads together and..."

"Not that we're pressuring you or anything!" Shandra interrupted.

"Oh, no, nothing like that," agreed Neeshka. "So... what's the word?" Elanee attacked a pile of snow with vigour.

"Casavir doesn't think of me in that way," she said.

"Of course he doesn't, paladins are idiots," scoffed Neeshka.

"Which is why we're going to help you," Shandra smiled.

"Help me?" asked Elanee, a look of pure horror on her face.

"Yeah, that's what friends are for, isn't it?" said Neeshka sweetly. "Besides we need to get him away from Kail."

"She's obviously not over this 'Valear' guy," said Shandra, gesturing at the pile of snow which was slowly growing.

"I doubt she will ever be 'over' Valear," said Elanee thoughtfully.

"Oh really?" Neeshka asked. "And what do you know about him."

"Very little, actually. Only that he was somebody who Kail loved very much, and it broke her heart when he went away."

"Well, don't worry," said Shandra. "We'll make sure that at least _you_ get a happy ending."

"Yeah," Neeshka added. "There's gotta be hope for one of us, and it's you. We can't all be lonely forever. At least if we help set you up, we get to live vicariously through you."

Elanee groaned, and dumped another handful of snow on the pile.

o - o - o - o - o

"So," said Kail, looking at the ledger in front of her. It was, with Kana's help, slowly becoming more decipherable to her. "Let me get this right. This column over here is how much of my Keep Fund from Nasher I have left. The column here is my weekly incomings, from merchant tithes, farmers' taxes and building rent, and the column next to it is my outgoings, which includes gear for the Greycloaks, food and drink for the inhabitants of the Keep, and money spent on renovations and improvements of the outlying lands. And deductables are..."

"Don't worry about your other deductables right now. All you need to worry about is that your gross outgoings do not exceed your gross income. Or that if it does, you can compensate in some way for the difference. Technically speaking, the Keep will run itself if you only break even. But Nasher... err... Lord Nasher, I mean, isn't going to be happy with that for long. He'll start expecting you to make some money, and you'll owe a portion of that to him, since he is your Lord," Kana explained.

"I see. Well... what about my general looting and adventuring? I'm _always_ coming across stuff that I can sell. Can I use my own personal funds to offset any difference between my outgoings and income?"

"I don't see why not. As long as it's accountable, there shouldn't be any problems."

"Accountable? 'I see treasures, I take'. How much more accountable does it need to be?"

"I am sorry to interrupt," said Sand, slipping inside the door to her office.

"Don't worry about it. Come in. _Please_. Save me from a fate worse than death; finances," Kail sighed, tossing her quill down on the paper in front of her. She scratched at her arm through her sleeve; her 'tattoes' always seemed to itch when she was irritated. And she was irritated quite often. "What can I do for you?"

"I just thought I'd let you know that I've been down to the dungeon to see our _delightful_ friend Torio, and she has once again expressed a strong desire to speak with you."

Kail nodded thoughtfully. She had only found out two days ago that Nevalle had brought her a 'gift'... Torio Claven. Garius' right-hand. He had already left for Neverwinter before the snow storm set in, but had left Torio in the dungeon for Kail to 'deal with however she saw fit'. Right now the woman was being given one square meal a day, and forced to live in a cold prison. No doubt less luxurious than she was used to, but Kail hadn't been ready to deal with the woman until now. When she had first learnt that Torio was down there, she had wanted to flay the woman alive. It had taken Casavir, Neeshka _and_ Khelgar to hold her back and keep her away.

"Have Torio escorted here," Kail told Kana. To her relief, the woman did not hesitate in obeying. "Sand, will you stay?"

"Why, I'd be delighted," he smiled, taking Kana's sea for himself. "So. How are your studies going?"

"What, this?" she asked, waving her hand at the ledger.

"No, your draconic studies."

"I haven't really had time to do much studying lately," she sighed. Sand raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Really? We've been snow-bound in this Keep for three whole days. And you haven't found a spare moment of time for a bit of studying?"

"I know it sounds like I'm making excuses, but this stuff with Kana... it's all things that she needs me to do. Things that I need to know about in order to make Crossroad Keep _work_. And it _has_ to work, Sand. I can't be here all the time, so when I am, I need to give it as much of my attention as possible."

"You give it too much time, Kalach-Cha," said Zhjaeve, wandering in through the open door. "Twice now, you have not shown up for our meditation sessions. If I am to help you know yourself, then you must help me by showing up."

"I know, I know," she sighed. "What about this afternoon? I _think_ I have a spare couple of hours between speaking with the armourer and the weaponsmith, and inspecting the Greycloaks, and checking the quality of the new ore with Khelgar in case it's got any impurities in it..."

"This afternoon is fine, Kalach-Cha. Know that I shall wait for you in the library, where we might find peace." With that, the githzerai left.

"There aren't enough hours in the day," Kail sighed.

A moment later, Torio was ushered into the room by two Greycloaks and Kana. Kail motioned for the woman's shackles to be taken off, and Torio rubber her wrists, working the circulation back into them.

"So," said Torio without preamble. "You are rebuilding Garius' fortress. The irony is sharp, indeed."

"Yes, one best not test the edge, or else it could cause a nasty scratch indeed," quipped Sand.

"Sand... come now, let's not start. We both have such a disdain for personal politics, no reason for us to get on each other's bad sides."

"_Is_ there another side to you? I shall make note of it."

"Still," said Torio, turning her attention back to Kail, "I prefer being here to being in a cell. Unless you have some other plan for me that would make me long for prison walls?"

"I'm not big on plans _or_ the law. I prefer action," said Kail. "And right now, I want the Tome of Iltkazar. Where is it?"

"I don't know. The last I heard, Garius was using it to perform his ritual that would give him some degree of mastery over the King of Shadows. If it wasn't on his body, I don't know where it could be."

"Kail, Kail! Come quickly!" said Grobnar, dashing into the room.

"What's the hurry, Grobnar?"

"I've just figured out how to implement the rune we retrieved from Arvahn into the construct's design. I thought you might like to come and see him as I fully activate him."

"I'll be right there," she said, then turned and waved a finger under Torio's nose. "Be quiet unless spoken to, and don't get into any trouble." She turned to Kana. "She doesn't go anywhere without at least two guards. And if she even _looks_ at somebody the wrong way... hang her."

Torio went even paler as Sand gave her a gloating smile. Then they both followed Grobnar down to his lab in the basement.

o - o - o - o - o

"Shouldn't be he moving... or doing something?" Kail asked as Grobnar finished tracing the rune onto the construct's surface with the glowing water from the goblin caves under Ember.

"Well, you can't expect him to suddenly start running around and attacking everyone just because we say so," said Grobnar. "Whoa, whoa! No! No! No! Bad Mister Pointy, stop waving those blades around! Stop it!" he added, dodging the golem's arms. "My, that was a surprise, really gets the blood pumping. Phew. I must say, I'm rather proud of it. Look how tall it is... it really has grown since it was damaged way back in Neverwinter fighting those nasty githyanki."

"I'm impressed you got it working again. Good job," she said.

"Well thank you. I must say, I had my doubts there for a while. A long while... but I appreciate the support and patience. Sometimes you just have to wait for inspirtation to strike. Go on, try it out. We can bring it along on our adventures from now on. Just talk to it, if you'd like. Not sure it'll answer, though."

"Uh... hello, Mister Pointy," she said, at a loss how to address a golem. "Uh, Grobnar? How do I give it orders?"

"Oh, well, just ask it I suppose. It's already designed to fight for us and follow our commands. I think you'll find it a versatile opponent."

"And what are its capabilities?"

"Oh, tough, strong, deadly. Bladed. I suppose the ancient dwarves and elves of Illefarn used them in wars... can't imagine you'd want one of those as a court jester or cook."

"And can it be upgraded? Like... can we make it better? More tough, more... bladed?"

"Upgraded? Well, I suppose. Just getting it working again was hard enough, though. Not sure what else could be done. I mean, it's not quite up to the level of the other golems, it's seen some wear and tear outside of the whole arcane golem thing... but it's hard to see if it needs any other repairs from my height, you know."

"You know, I wasn't going to say anything," said Sand, "but I did notice Grobnar... surprisingly enough... wasn't terribly careful about some of the glowstone inscriptions. As reluctant as I am to do _anything_ to this huge, hulking murder golem, my conscience nevertheless compels me to offer my services in case leaving it might cause more trouble."

"Go ahead, I trust you," she told him.

"Very well, stand back. Well back, in case I trigger something we can't stop. And get ready to run." Sand took up the glowing water and a paintbrush and began making amendments to Grobnar's inscriptions. In very little time, the golem was standing up straighter, looked a little more stable.

"Not bad," said Kail, patting Sand on the shoulder.

"Well, if it keeps this thing from killing us all horribly, I am happy to help."

There was a loud crash from further inside the basement. She looked at Sand and Grobnar, who both nodded at her, and together they made their way to the room where Garius had once performed his ritual. Kail drew her daggers, and Grobnar loaded his crossbow, while Sand was undoubtedly preparing to cast a nasty spell. What they found was not at all what Kail had been expecting.

The huge spider that they had encountered beneath Ember, Kistrel, was sat in the ritual room, gorging itself on beetles that were fleeing before it.

"Ew. That thing again," said Sand.

"My, how remarkable," said Grobnar, inspecting some scratchings that the spider made in the dust. "It said it followed us here. I think it wants to stay! Please can it stay Kail, please please please?"

"Sure," she shrugged. "You're welcome to stay, Kistrel. Just... eh... don't eat any of the Greycloaks."

"Splendid!" said Grobnar happily. "Now I can work on my design for that spider-mounted crossbow that I've been planning for so long."

"Right you are, Grobnar," said Kail, ushering Sand from the room. "We'll leave you to it. Don't... ah... break anything."

"Don't worry, I'll be careful," he said. They hurried away, and left him to his inventing.

o - o - o - o - o

"Err, lass?" said Khelgar as she made her way from her office to the library.

"Is there a problem?"

"Not as such. I just heard ye were going t' do some of that meditating stuff, and wondered if I could join you."

"You want to meditate, Khelgar?" she asked in surprise.

"Well... I've got a lot of things to meditate about. Besides, if those crazy water-loving monks do it, it must be good. Right?"

"Of course you can meditate with us. I'm sure Zhjaeve won't mind."

She waved to Aldanon as she entered the library, but the old man barely even acknowledged her. Ever since she had had the library refurbished, he spent most of his time sequestered inside, reading book after book. As far as she knew, he was on his second time around for most of them already. How he managed to read that fast and _remember_ it all was beyond her.

"Know that I am glad you came, Kalach-Cha," said Zhjaeve.

"Do you mind if Khelgar joins us?" she asked, putting down a cushion and sitting on the floor in front of Zhjaeve.

"All who wish to know themselves are welcome here. Now, when both of you are seated, I want you to imagine yourselves climbing a mountain."

"This isn't one of those euphy-misum things is it?" Khelgar grumbled.

"It is merely a mountain. See yourself stood at the base of the mountain. Look up, and see the top, high in the sky. Now, begin to climb the mountain, and as you do so, feel the layers of your self being stripped away. Hear the relaxing sounds of nature around you; the call of birds, the quiet babbling of a river, and breathe in the scents of life that proliferate."

Beside her, Kail heard snoring, and she suppressed a grin. Trust Khelgar to fall asleep during a spiritual journey of enlightenment.

"Now," continued Zhjaeve, "the daylight is fading, and you are approaching the top of the mountain. You see a fire up ahead, and set your sights towards it. There you will stop and rest, and though you are weary, you keep climbing. Now the layers of your self are almost completely gone. There is nothing between your true self and the world around you. When you reach the fire, you realise you are not alone. There is somebody else there. A person."

_It was Valear._

"This person does not speak, but invites you to sit at the fire beside them for a time. So you sit, and the fire warms you. In time, the person beside you gives you a box, with a gift inside. It is something special to you, something meaningful to you. Hold the box for a moment, but do not have any pre-conceived ideas about what is inside the box. When you are ready, start to open it, and take out what is inside."

_Kail took the box from Valear's hands, and held it in her own. It was neither heavy nor light, large nor small. It merely... was. She opened the box, reached inside with her hand, and took out..._

"By Clangeddin's beard, I've got it!" Khelgar shouted. Kail jumped almost out of her skin, and lost the image of the mountain entirely.

"You've got what?" asked Zhjaeve, with no signs of impatience. Kail didn't know how she managed it.

"I've just had an effigy!" said Khelgar proudly.

"A... what?" Kail asked in confusion.

"Ye know, one of those moment of clarity things."

"Oh. You mean an epiphany."

"Aye, lass."

"So what was this epiphany about?"

"It was one of me ancestors on that mountain, and in the box was knowledge! Knowledge that I don't need to become a monk to be a better fighter. I just need to fight for the right things, in the right way, and not cheapen me craft by taking on unworthy opponents and fighting for unworthy causes. From this day forth, Khelgar Ironfist will be fighting the just and righteous fights! Thank ye, lasses. This meditating stuff really works, and I'll tell anyone who asks."

He hurried from the room, eager to share the good news with others. Kail sighed, and shook her head.

"Know that knowing one's self takes time, Kalach-Cha," said Zhjaeve.

"I know. But time is one thing I keep being told I don't have."

o - o - o - o - o

Kail was stopped on her way back to her suite by Kana, who informed her that she had petitioners requesting an audience. Ever the gracious host, Kail allowed herself to be led to the reception hall and seated on the wooden throne with only minimal complaints about wasted time and missed meals.

The petitioners had been holed up inside the tavern for three days, and now that the snow had finally stopped, they had ventured to the Keep to air their requests. The first was easy enough to deal with. A 'merchant' named Uncus wanted to set up a trading shop of sorts inside the Keep. In reality, he was a fence, and recommended by Neeshka. He would sell anything that she wanted sold, no questions asked, and offer her first refusal on any goods he bought, all for a roof over his head. With his assurance that he could be discreet, she allowed him to stay.

The second visitor was a halfling man who introduced himself as the Sheriff of Leeves. Leeves was a small village of halflings nearby that was having quite a few problems with local bandits who had been displaced by the increasing Greycloak patrols from Crossroad Keep, and he wanted her to send some Greycloaks with him to apprehend the bandits. Kail immediately ordered half of the Greycloaks to be sent to Leeves once the snow melted sufficiently to allow travel again. Kana had almost suffered apoplexy when she heard the order, but when Kail explained that any less than half of the Greycloaks stationed within the Keep might not be enough to rout the bandits, and would only end up in wholesale Greycloak slaughter, further weakening morale, Kana reluctantly agreed to send half, though she gave a few occasional grumbles.

Greycloak morale was not the only reason Kail wanted to send half of her men. She would order a few to remain behind, to make sure that the bandits were _definitely_ gone. And making sure they were gone might take some time. The villagers would not mind having a few Greycloaks around, as long as they were being protected. After enough time, a permanent Greycloak presence could be established, providing a stopping point for outgoing patrols. They didn't know it yet, but the people of Leeves had had their village added onto Kail's list of land that would belong to her.

The third group of petitioners were touting themselves as adventurers. The leader, a human boy no older than eighteen with a foppish hat and clearly lacking anything of substance between his ears, spoke of adventure and riches. Kail sent them off half-cock to some random, out-of-the-way place where they couldn't hurt themselves.

When no more petitioners were forthcoming, Kana offered to fetch her some food. As her officer left the room to go to the kitchen, Kail leaned back on her wooden chair. It was just bloody typical that when she was finally ready to exact some vengeance on whoever had destroyed West Harbor, the snow kept her locked up for days. She had spent three days meeting with the armourer and the weaponsmith, the the farmers and the cooks and the women who cleaned the Keep when everybody else was abed. She had gone over Kana's figures again and again, and spent the better half of a day sequestered inside the library with Aldanon and Zhjaeve, trying to find any mention of Ammon Jerro or his haven.

She had signed orders for the Greycloaks, written requisition orders for Lord Nasher, spent a full day watching wages for Keep staff being counted out, discussed potential ore deposits with Calindra, and mining rights with Khelgar, and even managed to fit in a game of hide-and-seek with the children. In a way, being snow-bound was almost as exhausting as being outside fighting, killing and marching for days on end.

Bishop walked through the hallway with Karnwyr at his heels. He was dressed for cold weather, with a pair of fur-lined boots and cloak with a hood. He even pulled on a pair of gloves; evidence that it was _definitely_ cold outside.

"You're going out?" she asked when he didn't even bother to greet or insult her.

"I'm bored, wildcat. Don't even think about trying to stop me."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Good. Because you couldn't stop me even if you wanted to."

"Okay," she said, confused. He merely stomped out, slamming the door behind him.

"What was that?" Kana asked, returning with a tray of meat and vegetables.

"Cabin-fever, I think," she shrugged, accepting the food along with a knife and fork that Kana proffered. She speared one of the small, tender carrots with her fork, and breathed in the aroma of the meat. It smelt like venison. She had only had it once before, and she would enjoy trying it again.

"Kalach-Cha. Know that there is something of great importance you must see in the library."

"_Zhjaeve!"_ she groaned, waving the carrot on the end of the fork. "Food!"

"It is very important, Kalach-Cha."

"More important than my second meal of the day?"

"Yes."

"Alright," she said wistfully, handing the tray back to Kana. "But what's so important that I see it _right now_?"

"It is Aldanon," said Zhjaeve. "He believes he has found the location of Ammon Jerro's haven."


	68. Not the best idea in the world

_68. Not the best idea in the world_

Kail paced the library as she waited for Zhjaeve to return with Shandra. The young woman had a right to be here. After all, it was her grandfather's haven they were looking for, it was her blood they would need to use to get into the place, and she had earned the right to be included in any discussion about it.

A sound of footsteps hurrying down the corridor heralded Zhjaeve's return with Shandra. The former stood serenely beside Kail with her hands folded in front of her, whilst the latter began removing a heavy, fur-lined coat that had a dusting of snow on it. Her boots and trousers seemed quite damp too, anhd Kail fought down a pang of envy that she couldn't have joined her friends as they played in the snow.

"What's this all about? Zhjaeve said there's something important we need to talk about," said Shandra once she was a little more comfortable.

"Aldanon has found your grandfather's haven," Kail replied, gesturing to the old man.

"Oh yes. And quite a challenge it was, too," he said.

"How did you find it?" Shandra asked him.

"It was quite simple, really," he replied, taking a map from his butler. "You see, I realised that secrecy is of prime importance to a wizard, so I requested the service of a group of diviners, who have been searching the lands around here. To narrow the search, I looked through the Neverwinter Records for places where reagents have been sent in the past. The diviners have found an area that cannot be scried by magical means, and where reagents were sent to, and I believe this to be Ammon Jerro's haven."

"Master Aldanon," the butler interrupted, "you forgot to mention about the high level of infernal magics that the diviners detected there."

"I'm sure that devils and demons or whatnot shall be no challenge for these fine adventurers," he said dismissively.

"Great. So when do we set off for my grandfather's deathtrap?" asked Shandra. She obviously wasn't looking forward to the idea of going there.

"As soon as the snow is cleared and travel is possible. I'm hoping it won't be more than a few days."

"Well, I'll be in my room, sorting through some of my stuff," Shandra sighed. "Neeshka, Elanee and I are going to the tavern for a drink, later. Will you join us?"

"Maybe," she said with a shrug. If Kana let her have a few minutes to herself.

"Kalach-Cha," said Zhjaeve as Shandra left in the direction of the bedrooms, "I wish you to know that this delay worries me."

"I know it does. You want everything done yesterday. But we can't travel when the weather's like this. That snow is deeper than Grobnar, almost as deep as Khelgar. Trying to wade through it would only slow us down and pose considerable risk. There's hypothermia to worry about, and frost-bite, and frozen lakes that we might not see, and--"

"Very well, Kalach-Cha. I will defer to your judgement on the matter. Snow is not something we see in Limbo, and I am unfamiliar with the full range of its effects. In the mean time, perhaps we could go through some more exercises to help you know yourself better."

"Yeah... about that," she said, hesitating slightly. "I've been thinking. I think I know of a way to help me know myself... a way to know more about my past, and who I am. But there's only one person who can give me those answers, and... well... I'll need your help to speak to them."

"Then tell me what you need me to do, and I shall tell you if it is possible."

So she told Zhjaeve her plan, and her reasoning, and the githzerai merely listened. Then, when she had finished talking, Zhjaeve studied her for a few minutes with her pale, knowing eyes. It took some moments for her to speak.

"Kalach-Cha... know that I do not approve of this plan. It is too risky. Were it to fail, all hope of defeating the King of Shadows would be lost."

"Perhaps. But... this is something that has recently been bothering me. There are things that I need to know. If I don't find answers then my questions will never be at rest. I will always wonder, always speculate, and always doubt. And doubt is a bad thing, right?"

"Know that doubt is the most dangerous feeling in the world." Zhjaeve studied her a moment longer, and then sighed. "Very well, Kalach-Cha. How do you wish to proceed?"

"I have just the person in mind," she smiled.

o - o - o - o - o

It was light inside the tavern, light enough to banish all shadows, light enough to make the place seem jovial and warm. The smell of food permeated the air, courtesy of Sal's fine cooking. At one table sat Neeshka, Shandra and Elanee. He had briefly listened in on their conversation, but it had all been about pointless, boring things; love, happiness, family. Things that didn't interest him at all. So instead, he called for Sal to bring him a plate of food, and turned his thoughts to other matters, such as money.

The door of the tavern opened, and in strode Kail, stamping her feet on the floor to rid her boots of snow. Neeshka began dragging another chair over for her, so she could join them at the table, but Kail gestured for the tiefling to not bother. Neeshka shrugged, and raised an eyebrow. Those two seemed to be able to communicate with nothing but looks and gestures.

He had already returned his gaze to the warm fire in front of him when somebody stepped upto his chair, casting a shadow over him. He didn't even bother looking up.

"Whatever you want can wait until I've eaten."

"Very well," said Kail. She took a chair and sat there watching him. Nothing more, but he could _feel_ her gazed fixed on him, like a vulture watching a dying animal, waiting for it to drop before moving in closer. What in the hells was taking Sal so long? He wasn't asking for a three-course meal, just a little broth and some warm bread. Irritation began to creep into his emotions. Why was she just _watching_ him? Why couldn't she go and sit with her friends and leave him to eat in peace?

"What do you want?" he asked at last.

"I want you to come with me."

"Where?"

"To the Keep."

"Why?"

"I'll explain once we're there."

He sighed, and stood, shouting for Sal to keep the food on hold. Then he fastened his cloak, gestured at the door, and allowed her to lead the way.

The cold air hit him like an invisible force. His breath immediately began to condense, forming puffs of fog as he walked carefully through the snow. It seemed somebody had been clearing it up; there was a narrow path running from the tavern to the Keep, and to a couple of other places, such as the Greycloak barracks. In a small courtyard, somebody had made a giant effigy out of snow in the shape of Grobnar. He shook his head and snorted in disgust. The gnome at gnome-size was bad enough, the last thing the world needed was a bigger Grobnar.

The inside of the Keep was deliciously warm, and he immediately shed his cloak. There were two Greycloaks stood to attention beside the door, and these he ignored. Kail was still silent, and what he sensed from her was... strange. She seemed calm, almost at peace, but also determined and focused. It wasn't a natural feeling, not for her, and it made his scalp tingle in warning.

She led him into the Captain's Suite, and closed the door behind him. Apart from a bed, a desk, a bedside table and a wardrobe, the room was quite bare. A single woollen rug covered the cold stone floor, and the fire that burnt in the hearth was small and new. The room was a little chilly, and had a somewhat empty feeling about it. Strange. Most bedrooms were the opposite. People filled them with personal things to claim them as their own, make them feel at home. He always left his uncluttered, of course. That way, anybody looking for him would learn little about him from his room, and he could move on at a moment's notice without having to pack up and worry about leaving things behind.

"What's all this about, wildcat?" he asked. She took off her cloak, hanging it from a stand that he hadn't noticed. It was hidden in a corner of the room, standing in shadow. Much of the room was in shadow; the only source of light was the small fire, and a few candles stood on the table. And, of course, the cold silver moonlight which streamed in through the large window. The woman before him was stood so that half of her face was illuminated by the cold moonlight, silvery-white, and the other half by the warm firelight, yellowy-gold. It gave him the impression that he was looking at two different people. But of course, that was nonsense.

"I want you to do something for me," she said.

"Oh? And what's that?"

She held out both hands towards him, and he eyed them suspiciously. She was _definitely_ planning something, and he didn't like not knowing. But she offered no explanation of her actions, merely stood there with her hands out, waiting patiently. He knew that he had only two choices. He could walk away right now, and never know what she wanted from him. Or he could take her hands, and learn. Half of him wanted to do one thing, half of him wanted to do the other. And while he was debating with himself, she merely watched him, calm and serene, and quite beautiful with her hair short and untidy.

After another moment of indecision, one part of his brain seized control from the other, and forced him -- against half of his will -- to take her hands. She pulled him closer to her, deceptively strong for her size, so that there was only a few inches of space between them. Her fingers, small in his larger hands, were warm, her skin soft. _Just like in his dream..._

"What is it you want me to do?" he asked, to stop his thoughts from following that track. She gave him a warm smile, her eyes, one blue in the firelight, one grey in the moonlight, twinkled, partially with amusement, partially with something he did not recognise.

"I want you to kill me."

o - o - o - o - o

She had never seen him move so fast before. One moment he was in front of her, with the suggestive expression that she had come to expect from him, and the next he had taken a large step back, putting two feet of distance between them. Her words had obviously shocked him; she could tell from the disbelief, warring with anger, on his face. Strange... she hadn't expected him to have any problems with her request.

"What's wrong?" she asked him.

"What's wrong? You just asked me to kill you. You're either playing an extremely stupid joke at my expense, or you're sick."

"Neither, actually. Perhaps 'kill me' was the wrong way to phrase it. 'Help me die' might be a more accurate description. Will you do it?"

"Then of course there's the third option... that you're completely insane. Stay here," he said, making his way towards the door. "I'm going to fetch Zhjaeve so that she can heal you."

"Know that the Kalach-Cha is in sound mind." Zhjaeve stepped out of the shadows where she had been waiting, and stood in front of Bishop, cutting off his path to the door.

"That's all that you have to say about this?" he asked the githzerai.

"There is nothing else to say."

"Please," said Kail. It was the first time he had heard her use the word, a sure sign that she was desperate.

"No. Kana would kill me. Or I'd be locked in Neverwinter's prison for the rest of my life. Besides, what happened to that whole 'chosen-one fated to save us all' stuff you believe in so much? I thought you wanted to make the King of Shadows pay for what he did to West Harbor?" A flicker of anger crossed her face, but she suppressed it instantly.

"I do. And I will. And nobody will take action against you for killing me. In fact, nobody will ever know. I only need to die for a short time... a couple of hours, maybe. After that, Zhjaeve is going to bring me back."

"Then let her be the one to kill you."

"Know that I cannot," said Zhjaeve. "I gave an oath to the Kalach-Cha, to stand by her and do her no harm."

"Then get one of the others to do it."

"Nobody else _would_ do it, Bishop. They wouldn't understand. They'd question me and worry for me, and then they'd make sure I was never left alone again. They'd watch me constantly, afraid that I might try to end my life at any moment."

"Why don't you? Just kill yourself if you're that determined."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because as much as I need to, I'm afraid to die," she shrugged.

"You don't look particularly afraid to me," he pointed out. She was still calm, still determined.

"The thought of dying terrifies me. But it's something that needs to be done."

"Why? Why is it so important that you die?"

"I need to speak to somebody who is dead, and I don't know of any other way."

He took a step towards her, excluding Zhjaeve from the conversation. Kail merely watched him, unphased. He suspected that, right now, he couldn't do a single thing to unbalance her. Her mind was made up, and nothing he could do would change it.

"What did that song you made up go like?" he asked quietly. "Something about... 'you can laugh as you spit in the face of danger, but never defy the Gods'? What if the Gods take exception to you trying to defy death, trying to thwart fate? What if they don't _let_ you come back?"

"That is a risk," she agreed. "One that I have already considered, and am willing to take."

He studied her face in the half-moonlight. The days of rest, however busy she had been with administrative tasks, had done her good. She no longer looked gaunt and exhausted. Though her skin was a little on the pale side, she look healthy. He stepped closer, so that his voice was nothing more than a whisper in her ear.

"There will be a price. Later. A price that I can name at any time, in any place."

"I understand. But there are two prices that I will not pay."

"And they are?"

"I won't stand by and allow you to kill anybody that I travel with or any person who I deem to be innocent and unworthy of death. And I will not kill any of the same on your behalf."

"Agreed, wildcat." He raised his voice again, and walked behind her, examining the rest of her body. Killing somebody who was healthy and trained in combat was always difficult. Killing somebody who was expecting it, no matter how much they thought they were willing to embrace it, was even harder. Though the mind might want to die, the body always fought back, always struggled. "I suppose you want something quick and painless," he asked, running his fingers down the top of her spine. A knife cut to the spinal cord could kill quickly, though not without a lot of bleeding. She shivered at his touch, though from fear or anticipation, he did not know.

"I expect that at least some pain will be necessary," she said, her voice still calm. "Though I would ask that you make it no more painful or drawn-out than you must."

"Poison, then," he decided. "I know of one that will make you drowsy. Your body will grow cold and you will fall into a deep sleep. Your heart will slow and eventually stop. It is relatively painless, as far as poisons go."

"And you conveniently have some of this poison?" Zhajeve asked.

"Of course. You never know when the place you're staying is going to get an infestation of rats. A few drops on food left around for them, and it's goodbye pests. You'll need to put it into food or drink for yourself."

"And you have an antidote for it?"

"A standard neutralise poison potion will do it."

"I'll go to the kitchen and get some water," Kail nodded, leaving them. He took one last look at Zhjaeve, then went to his own room, to dig out the poison he had never thought that he'd have to use.

o - o - o - o - o

Kail hurried down the cold corridor from the kitchen. In her hands was a tray of food and a pitcher of water. Now that he had agreed, she felt nervous. And also more than a little scared. There were so many unknowns... what would happen if she died and couldn't find her mother? What would happen if her mother was beyond her reach? What if Zhjaeve brought her back too soon? What if Zhjaeve couldn't bring her back at all? What if somebody walked in in the middle of the task and tried to stop it?

Further down the corridor she spied Officer Kana, and called out the woman's name. Kana stopped and turned, offering her a low bow.

"Captain, is there anything I can do for you? I would have thought that you'd be abed at this hour."

"I'm on may way there now. I want you to send four Greycloaks to stand guard on my door."

"Do you feel that your life is in danger?" Kana asked in surprise.

"No. I just don't want to be disturbed. For _anything_."

"I understand, Captain." Kana disappeared down a corridor, no doubt to find four trustworthy Greycloaks who could stay awake for a night shift.

In the main hall, Kail found Bishop waiting for her. He gave her a mock bow and offered to take the tray, which she declined. No doubt any niceties she accepted from him would be tagged onto his 'price'. She was already regretting making that deal. En route to her Suite, four Greycloaks intercepted them, saluting her when she nodded to them.

"You are to turn away anybody who wishes to speak with me," she told their leader. "Refer all problems or questions to Officer Kana. Do you understand?" They saluted again, and took up a guarding position inside the corridor. On the verge of opening her door, she heard the sound of heavy, clinking footsteps, and she sighed. Only one person could _clink_ so loudly as he walked.

"My lady," said Casavir as he rounded the corner and caught sight of her. "May I speak with you?"

"We can speak in the morning, Casavir. I have business to take care of right now," she said, opening the door and pushing Bishop through in front of her."

"But Kail..."

"In the morning," she reiterated. She quickly entered the room and closed the door behind her, bolting it shut. Sitting in a chair on the far side of the room, Zhjaeve appeared to be meditating. Kail slipped the tray onto the bedside table, then removed her boots before sitting cross-legged on the bed."

"There will be rumours come morning, you know," said Bishop drily.

"Does that bother you?"

"Not at all," he said, giving her a feral grin. "But what's with the food? You might be best to avoid eating. The more you have in your stomach, the longer the poison takes to be absorbed by your body. An empty stomach is best."

"It's not for me. It's for you, since you missed your meal in the tavern for this."

"How _thoughtful_, wildcat."

Kail snorted, and poured water from the pitcher into a glass, then held her hand out to Bishop. From his pocket he took out a glass vial, and placed it carefully on her hand.

"Do I use all of it?"

"The more you use, the faster it works."

"Are you sure you want to go through with this, Kalach-Cha?" asked Zhjaeve, standing and opening her eyes. "The matter of you dying aside, there is still the fact that once you _know_ something, you cannot _un-know_ it. You may learn things that you might wish you did not hear at all."

"I'm sure. I'll deal with the repercussions later." She tipped the vial into the water, then mixed it up with a spoon. Taking a moment to rearrange the pillows on her bed, she found a more comfortable position before taking up the glass.

"Good luck, Kalach-Cha. Know that I will give you an hour before bringing you back. I will not risk leaving you dead for any longer."

She nodded, and before she could change her mind, drank the entire contents of the glass. Bishop took it from her as Zhjaeve helped her to lie down on her back. It took only a minute before she felt the effects of the poison begin to work. As Bishop had said, her eyelids began to feel heavy. It wasn't the usual tiredness that she felt, it wasn't normal fatigue; instead, it felt as if her strength was being sapped, as if her body was failing her. Soon she couldn't move her limbs, and the last thing she saw before her lids closed was two pairs of eyes looking down on her; one pale and luminous yellow, the other glittering gold in the firelight.


	69. Little Death

_69. Little Death_

There was grey. There was no source of light, yet she could see. She was dressed in the clothes in which she had died, and she _seemed_ to have substance. She could touch herself, her clothes, though there was nothing else around for her to touch. Was this death? The last thing she could remember was seeing Zhjaeve and Bishop looking down on her. She had fallen asleep, and then... she had woken up here.

The air in front of her rippled, and a grey-cloaked figure appeared in front of her, its hood drawn up around its face. The figure's hands were clasped before it, and it was merely... watching her.

"Are you Kelemvor?" she asked, at a loss.

"No," said the figure. She was sure that its lips had not moved when it spoke. She thought for a moment, then rephrased her question.

"Are you an avatar or an aspect of Kelemvor?"

"No."

"Then who are you?"

"You may call me Jergal," said the figure.

"_The_ Jergal? Former god of the Dead, Murder and Strife?"

"The very same."

"I didn't know that you greeted people personally."

"Normally, I do not. Most souls that come here do not know they are dead, and it is not my place to enlighten them."

"So this _is_ the Fugue Plane?" she asked, looking around at the infinite greyness.

"Yes."

"It's a lot emptier than I expected. Where's the Spire, the Wall?" Something was wrong. Here she was, talking to Jergal, a god. And yet she didn't feel afraid, or in awe, or much of anything, really.

"This is the Fugue Plane, and yet it is not. We are inside a pocket of differential space, where time does not pass. You can observe the main portion of the Fugue Plane, if you desire."

"How?"

"Here is a window." The god moved his hands and in the greyness beside him came a dim light in the form of the square. She approached cautiously, and looked out.

What she saw was an impossibly tall crystal spire in the middle of a small city. Around that city was a wall, a wall that writhed and screamed; it was a wall of faithless souls... and yet it didn't frighten her. She watched it impassively. Then, something caught her attention. She concentrated on one section of the wall, and the view magnified. She saw fiends run towards the wall, and several of them clawed at it, tearing away some of the souls from the upper layer. From a gate in the wall, more fiends poured forth, and gave chase to the others, who ran.

"What's happening down there?" she asked.

"Demons are stealing the souls of the faithless, and devils battle them," Jergal explained.

"Why do devils care if demons steal souls?"

"Devils are allowed to speak to souls, to offer them the opportunity of becoming devils themselves. It is how devils increase their numbers. Demons are bound by no such agreements; they do not honour contracts, and cannot be reliably bargained with. They steal souls, and so it is in the devils' best interests to stop them." The image disappeared from view as Kail turned her attention back to Jergal.

"So... what happens now?"

"Under normal circumstances, your soul would remain with the others for upto ten days, in the City of Judgement, until a divine servant from whichever God you worship comes to collect you. If, after that period of time, your soul is not collected, you would be judged, and your soul either incorporated into the Wall as one of the Faithless, or tortured eternally as one of the False."

"But these aren't normal circumstances."

"No."

"Why not?"

"It is always different, when a Godspawn dies. There are items to sort out. Obligations, inheritances... political meanderings which I try to avoid these days."

"You have been remarkably honest with me, so far. Why are you answering all of my questions?" she asked.

"I am instructed to answer questions truthfully, though I may not offer any information of my own volition."

"Then will you answer further questions for me?"

"Yes. Though you should phrase your questions most carefully, as my interpretation of them might be different from yours."

"Do you ever lie?"

"No."

"Are you capable of lying?"

"Yes, though I find it extremely distasteful."

"You said that it is 'different' for Godspawn."

"That is not a question."

"In what way is the process of death and the claiming of souls different for Godspawn?" she sighed.

"A Godspawn powerful enough and embracing the abilities of their parent God, may on occasion be offered the chance to take up some aspect of that portfolio and reside with the Gods as a minor power or demi-god."

"So it is true. The blood of Bhaal runs through my veins?"

"Yes, it is true that the blood of Bhaal runs through your veins." She nodded, feeling numb. Though she had suspected that the taint had been passed on by her mother, some tiny part of her had still _hoped_ that it wasn't true.

"Tell me... why do I feel so empty?"

"Feelings and emotions are a result of chemical reactions in the mortal body. You now lack a body, therefore you lack the ability to feel."

"But I can still _think_?"

"Yes, thoughts are a result of electrical reactions within the mortal brain. Electricity is energy, and your soul is energy. Though you lack a brain, the electrical patterns still hold true."

"How long have I been here?" she asked. It couldn't have been more than ten or fifteen minutes... there was probably still chance for her to find her mother and ask the questions that she needed answers to.

"Time has no meaning here," said Jergal.

"I don't understand." He was silent, and she rephrased her question. "Please can you elaborate on your statement 'time has no meaning here'?"

"We are currently outside of space and time. There is no distance; you are everywhere. There is no time; you are at every point in time."

"Then what separates this moment from the next?"

"Nothing. This moment and the next are the same."

"If that is true, then I should already have asked all my questions. Isn't that right?"

"Yes. You already _have_ asked all your questions. You just don't realise it yet, because mortals think of time as a linear thing, and you are still thinking like a mortal."

"But you said souls can wait in the City for upto ten days to be collected. How can ten days pass, and time have no meaning?"

"We are not inside the City of Judgement. As I said, we are inside a pocket of differential space. It is a difficult concept for mortals to understand. Simply put, time and space are related. If you are in a place where there is no space, then you can have no time."

"Fine, I'm sorry I even asked, I don't understand any of it. But do you know how long my mortal body as been dead for?"

"Yes."

"And can you tell me?"

"Your mortal body as been dead for thirty-eight seconds."

"But that's impossible! I've been here longer than that!"

"As I said... time has no meaning here. It does not pass."

"Will I be offered any of Bhaal's power, or the chance to reside with the Gods?" she asked, deciding on a different route.

"I do not yet know, but I doubt it."

"Why not? Isn't it true that Bhaal is my grandfather?"

"Yes, it is true that Bhaal is your grandfather. But you have often denied that power, turning away from it in fear of what it might do to you. Though you may yet become powerful, you are not currently strong enough to take on such power. It would probably kill you. Also, both Kelemvor and Ao know the means of your death, and they know that you do not intend to remain dead."

"How can they know that?"

"Everything about you is known and recorded upon the moment of your death. How else could you be judged if a servant of your God does not come for you?"

"Then you also know why I'm here?"

"Yes."

"Where is my mother's soul?" she asked. Jergal was silent for a moment, and she got the impression that he was searching a record, though she could see no such thing.

"Your mother's soul was claimed by a servant of Lathander, the Morninglord, twenty-three years, two months, fourteen days, nineteen hours and eight minutes ago. She currently resides in his realm."

"And is my father's soul there too?"

"Your father is not dead."

"Are you sure? Don't you have to... check your records, or something?"

"No."

"Then can you tell me his name, and where he lives?"

"No."

"Why not? You've answered all my other questions."

"I have been asked not to tell you."

"By who?"

"I have been asked not to tell you."

"Why?"

"I cannot give you information that will change the course of your life or the course of events in the lives of other mortals."

"Then can you bring my mother's soul here, so that I can talk with her? I know this place is outside space and time, so it would be as if she was never here, right?"

"I see that you _do_ understand, mortal," said Jergal wryly. "Yes, I can bring your mother's soul here."

"And will _she_ be allowed to tell me about my father?"

"Yes."

"But isn't that also 'changing the course of my life, or the course of events in the lives of other mortals'?"

"No."

"Then why would it be so if _you_ told me, but not if my _mother_ told me?"

"Because she is not forbidden."

"I see this is another one of those things that mortals struggle to understand," she remarked. "Will you stay, when my mother is here?"

"Yes. This pocket of space will exist only for as long as I remain inside."

"Tell me... when... if... I get back to my life, back to the world... if I were to embrace the power of Bhaal, would I be able to do this?" she asked, gesturing around at the non-space.

"Eventually, perhaps."

"And would Bhaal's blood taint me, would it cause me to do evil things, to become an evil person?"

"I do not know."

"Alright. Well, thank you for the answers. Will you bring my mother's spirit here now?"

"I will have to ask Lathander's permission."

"I'll wait here," she assured him. Not that she had anywhere to go. For some minutes, the image of Jergal was absolutely still. Deciding that it was worth risking the wrath of a god, she poked at his robe, and was surprised when her finger went right through it. It seemed that Jergal was not even there! She stepped back when he began moving again, and before them another image appeared.

The woman was of medium height, with her long brown hair falling in waves down her back. Her eyes were an intense, deep blue, and warm like a summer sky. She was wearing a blue and yellow dress that reminded Kail of cornfields, and she was looking around at the greyness in surprise. Though her body was somewhat translucent, she _seemed_ more real than both herself and Jergal, which was... strange.

"_It is because of what we are._" The thoughts of Jergal entered her mind, skipping her ears, and Kail raised an eyebrow in surprise. 'What we are'? Having divine blood somehow made them less _real_ in this place? Strange. Very strange.

"What is this? Where am I? And who are you?" asked the woman.

"Greetings, Esmerelle. I have the permission of the Morninglord to bring you here. You are on the Fugue Plain. I am Jergal," said the god. "And this is Kail Farlong."

"Kail?" the woman asked, her eyes wide with shock. "_My_ Kail? Is it really you?"

"Yes, it's me," she said, feeling at a loss how to address her dead mother. "Surprise?" she offered.

"Oh, Kail. I thought I would never see you again!" her mother rushed forward, embracing her in her arms. "I didn't even recognise you, though I should have guessed. How old are you?"

"Twenty-four, give or take a few weeks."

"You're shorter than I would have thought," said her mother, pushing her to arms length so she could get a better look. "But wait, if you're here in the Fugue Plane, that means you're dead! What happened?"

"I drank poison. I wanted to come here, to speak to you. But I have friends who are going to bring me back after an hour of time has passed, so I'm afraid I can't stay here and talk to you for very long."

"You _died_, just to speak to me?"

"Yes. I have some questions that I need to ask you, and the fate of Neverwinter may depend upon me finding answers."

"Then I'll try to answer your questions, but not until you've answered mine. It is a mother's prerogative! Besides, I've missed your entire life... I want to know everything about you," the woman smiled.

"Agreed," she nodded.

"First, tell me what happened to the others after the battle."

"The... battle?"

"The battle that ended my life, of course. The King of Shadows was marching out of the Mere, and the forces of Neverwinter were making one last stand at West Harbor."

"Oh, _that_ battle. Well... Shayla died." Grief crossed Esmerelle's face. "The entire village was ruined, but a few families escaped, and rebuilt. Daeghun raised me, and Lucas helped to teach me to fight. Duncan owns a tavern in Neverwinter now, called the Sunken Flagon. Oh, and I have a shard of metal from Gith's broken sword lodged in my chest."

"It was that which killed me," her mother nodded. "But that's in the past. Tell me, how are the others now? How is Daeghun coping after he lost Shayla?"

"I'm not sure if Daeghun is alive. Or Lucas, for that matter. Whilst I was away in Neverwinter, visiting Duncan, West Harbor was attacked. Everybody there was killed, and the houses burnt to ashes. I couldn't identify any of the bodies... I'm not sure if Daeghun was there, or away visiting the Wild Elves. Lucas may have been there... Jergal, do you know if Lucas is dead?" she asked. The god was silent for a moment, searching again.

"No. He is not dead."

"And what about Daeghun?"

"Elves do not come here. I do not know."

"It was worth a try," said Esmerelle gently. "But tell me, is there a young man in your life?"

"Mother!" she protested, rolling her eyes. "Not in front of Jergal."

"Oh, he doesn't mind," said her mother, waving her hand dismissively. "If, like you said, your time here is limited, then you must answer _all_ of my questions."

"There was, once. But his path led away from mine."

"That is often the case. And now?"

"And now I don't have time for such things. The King of Shadows has returned, and only I can stop him. I have to reforge the Sword of Gith, and find whoever took the last part of the Ritual of Purification, and fix up Crossroad Keep, and make sure the Greycloaks are trained, and go to Ammon Jerro's haven..." she let the list trail off. Her mother was looking thoroughly confused. "In part, that's why I'm here. There is a woman helping me, a woman of the githzerai people. She is trying to help me to know myself, so that I can become stronger, become a better fighter, and defeat the King of Shadows. But I feel like no matter how much I try to know myself, I can't go any further than I already am. I need to know about my parents before I can know more about me. That's why I came here."

"My poor child... to have such responsibilities, and at such a young age," said Esmerelle.

"Duncan told me about your own childhood, about how you met up with him and Daeghun and the others, about why you decided to settle down in the Mere. He also told me that you were one of the few remaining Bhaalspawn, and that you thought the taint of the divine blood passed onto me. Jergal has confirmed that Bhaal's blood runs in my veins, but I need to know how _you_ coped with it. What was it like growing up, _knowing_ about it?"

"I spent most of my life afraid of being discovered," her mother admitted. "But I don't understand... what do you mean by 'coped with it'?"

"How did you fight it? How did you stop it from trying to overwhelm you, to take control of you? How did you stop it from making you do bad things?"

"Fight it?" Esmerelle asked in confusion. "There was nothing to fight. It never tried to overwhelm me, or take control of me, and it never made me do bad things."

"You never did anything you regretted?"

"No. Blood does not make us do things, Kail. We choose to do them. I chose to ignore the taint, to try to live my life as if it never even existed."

"You didn't feel it try to communicate with you? Try to talk you into doing things you didn't want to do?"

"Not at all. I've heard that some Bhaalspawn were affected by it in such a way, but Kail... I suspect those people would always be that way, even if the taint of Bhaal's blood was cleansed from them. One does not need the blood of the Lord of Murder in order to do evil things. People are quite capable of doing that on their own. Remember, it is not Gods that cause murder, but the people who worship them. Had there been no murder in the world, there would have been no need for a God of Murder. Gods are an effect, not a cause."

"I need to ask you about my father," Kail said to her mother.

"I thought that you might."

"Jergal says my father is not dead... apart from that, and the fact that he had a draconic ancestor, I know nothing about him."

"A draconic ancestor? What do you mean?"

"Oh, as well as Bhaal's blood, I also have dragon's blood running through my veins. Occasionally I can call forth dragon-fire... I figure that since Daeghun never mentioned you having that ability, and Lucas and Duncan also knew nothing of it, that it comes from my father's side. Did he ever tell you anything about it?"

"No. Either he didn't know about it himself, or he didn't feel it necessary to tell me. I can't say that I blame him... I never told him that I was a Child of Bhaal."

"What happened between you two? Duncan told me that you often went wandering the Mere... how did you meet?"

"He valiantly saved me from a nasty situation," her mother said drily. "But that's not something I want to go into right now. I'll give you the basics since time may be of the essence, and you can ask questions after."

"Alright."

"Your father was not from around these parts, and he had travelled quite far before I met him. His people were... are... the Ffolk, of the Moonshae Isles. He was a restless man, who wanted to travel and explore the lands. So he left his home and became a ranger, learning about the Sword Coast and protecting its peoples as best he could. When he found the Mere, he was enchanted by it. He said it was a magical, special place that spoke to him. The Ffolk are close to the earth, and they worship a goddess they call Earthmother, who is an aspect of Chauntea, so I suppose he felt some sort of affinity with the land. When I met him, he was living outside of a small village called Redfallow's Watch--"

"Redfallow's Watch?" she asked in surprise.

"You know it?"

"I've heard of it... I have a... friend... who once lived there. But the village is gone, now. Like West Harbor, it was burnt to the ground."

"A sad fate, though from what I saw of the locals, not entirely undeserved. Anyway, your father was living outside the village, acting as an intermediary between the creatures of the Mere and the village itself. I chanced upon him by accident, and we grew close. I thought that I might come to love him, and I thought that he might feel the same. I frequently journeyed from West Harbor to see him, sometimes staying with him for days. One such time I returned to find his house empty, and him gone. All that was left was a note, telling me that he had enjoyed our time together but that he felt the need to return home, to share his tales and experiences with his people, and to spend time with what remained of his family. I never saw him again. I presume he returned to Moonshae and stayed there. He didn't know that I was pregnant when he left, and neither did I."

"Thank you. I'm sure it wasn't easy for you to remember and share all of that."

"Your mortal body has been dead for fifty-five minutes," said Jergal. Kail nodded.

"I will return to Lathander's realm," said her mother. "It has brought me more happiness than you know to have seen you, Kail. And don't take this the wrong way, but I don't want to see you again for a _very_ long time. Live a long, healthy life. Have dozens of children, and do not miss a second of their lives." Esmerelle hugged her again, then she faded, her spirit returned to a realm elsewhere.

"Thank you for bringing her," Kail said to Jergal. "I know you didn't have to."

"You're welcome."

"What do you think my chances are of defeating the King of Shadows?"

"I do not gamble."

"That's not very reassuring."

"Reassuring people is not part of my job."

"Couldn't _you_ do something about the King of Shadows? You used to be the Lord of the End of Everything, after all."

"I do not deal in magically animated objects."

"Fair enough. I had to ask. I'm sorry if I've kept you from your duties."

"Not at all. I enjoy an occasional diversion, and Godspawn are quite rare things."

"I guess you don't get out very much."

"I do not leave the Fugue Plane."

"Why not?"

"Because nothing would get done without me."

"I feel something strange... some sort of... well... almost kinship for you. Like I can sense you. Does that sound strange?"

"No. Beings with divine blood can often sense each others' presence."

There was a low humming sound, and light, real light, began to pierce the darkness around her. Where it fell on her body, it warmed her, and she heard muffled voices in the distance.

"Thank you again," said Kail, as she felt her soul being pulled in some unknown direction.

"You're quite welcome," said Jergal.

He waited for a few minutes after the Godspawn disappeared, and then another figure slowly phased into view. Like himself, the figure was cloaked in grey. In this place, it was the only colour that one _could _be. The newcomer projected a question into his mind, and he considered it for a moment before answering.

_"No, I didn't tell her."_

When both figures faded from view, the pocket of differential space ceased to exist.


	70. Resurrection

_70. Resurrection_

Inside the Captain's Suite, Bishop finished off the food that Kail had brought for him and returned the plate and cutlery to the empty tray. On the other side of the bed, Zhjaeve was still meditating. Even the bloody paladin would have been more interesting company. He glanced at the hourglass sitting on the table; half of the sand was still in the top section.

On the bed, Kail's skin, normally pale, was taking on a slight blue tinge. He walked over and sat on the side of the bed, feeling her skin with the back of his hand. Not all of the heat had yet faded, but in another hour, she would be stone cold.

"It was an interesting thing that you suggested," said Zhjaeve suddenly.

"What?"

"Poison. I believe that other ways of killing her would have brought you more enjoyment."

"You think that I enjoy _this_?" he asked, indicating the dead bard.

"Know that I believe that you find enjoyment in death, and that you are not too concerned with who is on the receiving end."

"I won't deny that I enjoy _some_ death. Sometimes I even enjoy killing. But some deaths are just a waste, and some killing is just necessary."

"And was this enjoyment, or a necessity?"

"Neither. She asked nicely, and nobody else would have the guts to give her what she needed."

"So why did you give her poison, instead of strangling her, or snapping her neck, or slitting her throat?"

"Because this way, I can't be held responsible if _you_ fail to bring her back. I didn't force the poison into her mouth... she drank it herself. I just supplied it. And that will stand in _any_ court of law."

She merely watched him with those awful eyes, and he turned his own gaze back to the woman on the bed. He had spoken the truth... at least partially. He didn't want to be held responsible if she stayed dead. But he also didn't know if he could have killed her any other way. Yes, he had killed many people -- most of them men -- in many ways. Strangulation was always a last resort. Shooting them from afar was preferable, though he had also cut a few throats and performed a few eviscerations. And then, of course, there was death by torture. But he didn't know if he could kill _her_ in any of those ways. He didn't know if he could keep his hands around her neck while she struggled and choked, didn't know if he could look into her eyes and cut her throat.

In a way, the trust she showed in him sickened him. She could easily have gone to Sand, or Neeshka, and asked them for some poison. She could have bought some herself from that fence, Uncas. A definite shady character, he probably had all sorts of poisons for sale. He himself had not done anything that she couldn't do. All he had done was put the poison in her hand and watched her drink it. She didn't _need_ him for that. And yet, for some reason, she had asked him to help her.

Perhaps the thought of poison hadn't occurred to her. Perhaps she had expected him to choke her, or cut her, or give her the same treatment that she had given the Luskan assassin, all those weeks ago. Did she think that she deserved to die in a paniful way? Was that why she had come to him? Was this her way of atoning for something she felt guilty about?

"Tell me about this spell you're going to do to bring her back," he said when it was obvious Zhjaeve would say nothing else.

"What do you wish to know?"

"Are you sure it will work?"

"Know that nothing is certain. I have never performed a Resurrection before, but I believe it is not beyond my ability."

"And if it _doesn't_ work?"

"Let us hope that Elanee has something prepared."

"Did Kail know, before she drank the poison, that the spell to bring her back might not work?"

"I saw no reason to burden her with such knowledge. She had already made up her mind. She was going to do this whether I could bring her back or not."

"Why? Who is she so desperate to speak to?"

"Her mother."

From Karnwyr, he received an impression of warmth, and fur, and a dark den. He also sensed that the wolf was worried about 'Alpha', concerned that he could no longer feel the wonderful, terrifying life flowing from her body. He wanted to follow her, to bring her back. He didn't understand where she had gone.

"Know that you should prepare the potion now," said Zhjaeve. He looked at the hourglass, and noticed that the sand was almost depleted. From his pocket he took a second small vial.

"If this spell you're doing is so powerful, why do you need the potion?" he asked.

"It never hurts to have a failsafe in place. Know that you will have to tip the contents into her mouth and force her to drink at the exact time that I begin the spell."

He nodded, and moved to the top of the bed. There, he pulled Kail partially onto his lap, tilting back her head so that he could pour the potion into her mouth when Zhjaeve gave the word. Meanwhile, the githzerai had taken out a scroll of paper, and was examining the words inscribed there. He hoped she wasn't having any difficulties reading it. When the last grain of sand fell through the hourglass, she nodded at him, and he opened the vial and tipped the contents into her mouth whilst Zhjaeve began chanting. He put the glass aside and closed Kail's mouth, holding his hand over her lips so that she would be forced to swallow as soon as her spirit was brought back to her body.

For some minutes Zhjaeve chanted, to no apparent effect. Beneath his hands, Kail's skin was still cold. He ran his fingers down her neck, looking for a pulse, but there was none.

"You're doing it wrong," he said to Zhjaeve.

"Know that I am saying the words precisely."

"Well say them again."

As the githzerai closed her eyes and began chanting again, he bent his head forward so that he could whisper in Kail's ear.

"Come on, wildcat, I'm not done with you yet," he said. "And you're not done with the King of Shadows. You better come back soon, because I'm not coming to get you if you don't."

Either his words had some effect, or Zhjaeve was doing something differently. Kail's body was enveloped in warm, white light, and he felt her moving in his arms as her gag reflex kicked in and she choked on the liquid in her throat. But he kept his hand firmly in place, and after a couple of coughs, she swallowed it. By the time the white light ended, Zhjaeve was by the bed, carefully examining the young woman for any injuries or lingering poison.

"Zhjaeve?" Kail asked, squinting.

"Yes, Kalach-Cha. Know that you are well. Did you find what you sought, in death?"

"Yes, I found my mother," she said, pushing herself up off the bed.

"Where are you going, Kalach-Cha?"

"Things to do..." said Kail groggily. She tried to crawl off the bed, but only succeeding in falling off it. Luckily, Zhjaeve caught her before she hit the floor, and gestured for Bishop to take her. He hadn't realised that the githzerai was so strong.

"There will be time for that later, Kalach-Cha. For now, you must rest. Sleep, and recover your strength. Tomorrow, we will talk further."

He put her back on the bed, and her eyelids closed as she drifted into sleep. Now that she was no longer dead, her usual skin-colour had returned. A truly powerful spell, to bring somebody back so completely with no apparent ill-effects. The sound of the bolt clicking caught his attention, and he noticed Zhjaeve by the door.

"You're leaving?" he asked.

"Know that there is no point in both of us staying."

"Then you should stay. She might need help during the night."

"Know that though rumours cannot be avoided, they will be less scandalous if they revolve around you."

"Ah. Well. What do I do if she needs further healing or something?"

"Send for me, and I will come." And with that, she was gone.

He sighed, and walked to the hearth, adding more wood to the fire. This room was too damned cold. The gods only knew how she managed to sleep in it. Even with extra wood, it gave off little more warmth.

He made a circuit of the room, inspecting everything it had to offer, and when he finally had nothing else to look at, he returned to the bed. Kail was sleeping soundly, apparently none the worse for dying and being brought back. By the soft candlelight, he examined her more closely, and the changes wrought since West Harbor.

Most noticeably, her hair was shorter, a little more so than Neeshka's. Where before it had fallen to her shoulders, now it stuck up wildly in various directions. For some reason, it made her seem younger, more innocent. Rather than detracting from her looks, though, it enhanced them. Features that were once plain were now elegant, refined. Less noticeable until you really _saw_ them were the black marks striping her arms from the tops of her shoulders to just above her wrist joints. He ran his hand over them, feeling the slightly raised edges where the ash had been covered over by skin, and wondered how she could bear being scarred in such a way. But most of the time, she barely seemed to notice. It was one of the things he enjoyed most about her; she didn't give a damn what anybody else thought.

He could leave, now. There was no reason for him to stay. If Zhjaeve had thought she would need help, she would have stayed herself. And the Greycloaks would see to it that she was not disturbed while she rested. But then, there would be no rumours about him spending the night in the Captain's Suite. And he would miss her waking up, miss the confusion on her face as she tried to remember events of the past night and wondered why he was there in her room.

And where would be the fun in missing that?

o - o - o - o - o

Kail dreamt of nothing, and woke to sunlight streaming in through the uncurtained window. She had vague recollections of a snow storm, and was glad to see that it seemed to have passed. There was movement on the bed beside her, and she turned to find Bishop watching her. Quickly, she replayed the events of the past night in her head. She remembered drinking poison, being dead, and being brought back. Then... nothing. She must have fallen asleep.

"Where is Zhjaeve?" she asked, sitting up.

"She left last night, after you returned. So what was it like, being dead?"

"Very... grey. I met Jergal, too."

"Is that so? And what did he have to say for himself."

"Welcome to the City of Judgement, enjoy your stay, etcetera etcetera," she said, cursing herself for mentioning the god. She didn't want her conversation with him repeated with _anyone_. Well, except maybe Neeshka. Only the tiefling knew about her divine heritage, and she wanted it to stay that way.

"What else did you see? The City of Judgement hardly sounds like an enjoyable place."

"It was horrible," she said, unable to repress the shiver at the memory. "The False were tortured for eternity, whilst the Faithless were forced into the Wall. Occasionally, demons came along and stole souls, taking them back to the Abyss as slaves or food."

"Sounds like I should be finding myself a god to start worshipping," he said thoughtfully.

"You can't just _pretend_ to worship a god."

"Don't you?" he snorted.

"No. I worship Shaundakul, and there's nothing 'pretend' about it. He might appeal to you as well, you know. Amongst other things, he favours travellers."

"I was thinking more of Malar. You know, hunting, stalking, killing, and all that. Are you hungry?"

"Starving." She had died on an empty stomach, and been brought back to life on one just as empty.

Bishop rolled off the bed and went to the door. There, he unlaced the top of his shirt, ruffled his hair a little, and opened the door to address the Greycloaks.

"The Captain wishes you to bring her some breakfast. She had an exhausting night last night, and needs to recover her energy." Then he shut the door and returned to the bed.

"What was that?" she asked, imagining the looks on the poor Greycloak faces.

"Just fuelling the rumours. We don't want them knowing what _really_ happened last night, do we? It might be best if you spent about twenty minutes doing some pleasurable moaning. If you like, I can help you."

"Well, you _do_ have a 'price' to claim," she shrugged.

"In which case you would be cheaply bought. No, I think I'll save the debt that you owe me for another time."

"I wouldn't think you'd have a problem with cheaply bought women," she smiled sweetly.

There was a knock at the door. Bishop sat up and, with one arm, pulled her back down against him, despite her protests. She managed to elbow him in the ribs in the process, which pleased her somewhat.

"Come in," he called. One of the Greycloaks opened the door, his eyes agog when he saw them on the bed with his arm around her. A second Greycloak entered, placed a tray of food on the table, and removed the empty tray from the previous night. Kail noticed that breakfast was a simple one; a few slices of toast with various jams and a pot of warm tea.

"Can you fetch us some honey?" Bishop asked the retreating soldiers.

"You wish honey for your toast, sir? But there are plenty of jams!"

"It's not for the toast," he smiled. They Greycloak's eyes practically popped out of his head -- he couldn't have been much older than sixteen -- but he bowed and left.

"I don't think the rumours need _that_ much fuel," she said drily, making sure to elbow him in the ribs again as she prised herself away from his grip. Somewhat reluctantly, he let her go, and she examined breakfast. She selected a slice of toast, poured herself a cup of tea, and savoured every mouthful.

"Guess they're finally running out of eggs and bacon," Bishop remarked. "Deep snow will do that to you. It's too bad we got here too late in the season for the farms to be doing anything productive. At least some of them can start breeding livestock, though. You'll have fuzzy little lambs running around by spring."

"Hmm? Oh yes, lambs," she said absently.

"You're not paying attention, are you?"

"Not really, no."

"Thinking about death?"

"The opposite, actually." She fidgeted in her chair, trying to find a comfortable spot, then settled down again. "Where you grew up, in Redfallow's Watch, was there a ranger who lived outside the village for a time?"

"Maybe," he shrugged. "I'm not sure. Why?"

"It's important. Please try to think. It would have been between twenty-five and twenty-seven years ago."

"Twenty-five years ago I was three years old, wildcat," he scoffed.

"Do you remember _anybody_ saying anything about a ranger who lived there for a time? He wouldn't have been born there, he would have been an outlander."

"Why are you so bothered about it, wildcat? I told you, Redfallow's Watch is gone. Stop bringing up ghosts of the past."

She crossed the space between the chair and the bed, and sat down beside him. Using the best glare that Lucas had taught her, she tried to make him understand how important his memory was.

"I'm not bothered about ghosts of the past. That man is still alive. Can you remember anything _at all_ about him?"

"Fine, fine, let me think," he sighed, closing his eyes. "Yes, I _do_ recall something being said about a ranger who used to live outside the village. He came into town once a week or so to trade and to exchange information with the villagers. One day he just left, and nobody knew where he went, or why."

"What was his name?" she asked, leaning forward in excitement. She had neglected to ask her mother that, last night. A stupid thing to do.

"Something strange... not very common. Something like... Tristram, I think. Couldn't tell you his family name, though." There was another knock at the door. "Ah, this will be our honey. Would you care to find a more... interesting... place to sit? You're hardly acting like a woman who spent a night in my arms."

"Perhaps I was left unsatisfied," she shrugged.

"And perhaps your friends find out what you _really_ got upto last night."

"It doesn't surprise me that you would resort to blackmail to get your own way."

"Blackmail? This is negotiating, wildcat. Besides, I thought bards were supposed to be _good_ actors?"

She sighed, and allowed him to push her down onto the bed before calling for the Greycloaks to enter. At first, the sound of somebody clinking into the room didn't register on her mind. Then somebody cleared his throat, and she turned her head to see Casavir looking down at them.

"I can see that I'm interrupting," he said. "I'll come back later."

She punched Bishop on the arm, pushed him off her, and rolled from the bed to stand on the floor in front of the paladin. She would be having _strong_ words with the bloody Greycloaks later about the meaning of 'no interruptions'.

"You're not interrupting," she said pointedly "What are you doing here?"

"I wish to talk to you about the haven. Shandra has informed me that it has been found, and that we'll be leaving as soon as the snow is cleared."

"That's right."

"I want you to stay behind this time."

"Looks like the paladin doesn't think you can take care of yourself," said Bishop from the bed behind her.

"I'm not staying behind, and you should know better than to suggest it," she said, subjecting Casavir to her best determined stare. In the past, she had been able to out-stare elves. But Casavir didn't even so much as squirm under her gaze.

"Shandra has also informed me that the diviners who found the haven have detected infernal magics... the same sort of magics that Neeshka could sense when we were brought by some unknown force to West Harbor."

"Oh, so you're afraid of what she'll _do_ when she catches up to whoever destroyed her home," said Bishop.

"Please go, Bishop," she sighed. He sauntered from the room, giving Casavir a condescending glare as he passed. When the door closed behind him, she poured herself a cup of tea and took a seat on one of their chairs. Tea was a useful thing, Lucas had told her. It gave you something to do with your hands when you didn't want to be seen fidgeting. You could look thoughtfully into it, pause in your speech to take sips of it. And, if the need arose, throw it at somebody. Boiling water made an effective weapon, when used correctly. But for now, she merely took a sip.

"I am not staying behind," she said at last. "This directly concerns me. I have a shard of the Sword of Gith in my chest. I need to find out either how to get it out, or how to stop it from damaging me further. I need to find out how to reforge the sword, to defeat the King of Shadows. Shandra will have to shed her blood so that we can access the haven, and I won't let her do that alone. I will be with her. And finally, if whoever destroyed West Harbor _is_ there, I won't allow him to harm anybody else ever again."

"My lady, I fear what all of this is doing to you. Of course, I know better than to worry over your personal safety... but it is your soul that I worry for. I do not want you to become like the very thing that you are trying to destroy." He sounded quite concerned... and quite convincing, too.

"Thank you for your concern," she nodded. "I don't intend to become like the King of Shadows. For one, I am not an automaton warped by the Shadow Weave."

"But you believe that the ends justify the means."

"Sometimes. And I will try to stop the King of Shadows by causing the least amount of harm to others that I can. But if I fail, if the King of Shadows returns to spread darkness across the land because I was not willing to do what needed to be done... well, let's just say that I won't live with that on my head. I would rather be known as a tyrant who succeeded than a weak fool who failed."

"You need not be either. Failing does not automatically make you weak, or a fool, my lady."

"Perhaps not. But if I succeed, then I will be the victor, and the victor can write history however he or she chooses."

"Very well. I still think that you should stay behind this time, but I will defer to your judgement." He turned as if to go, then hesitated a moment. "Kail... I have said several times that I do not think Bishop can be trusted."

"Yes, I'm aware that the two of you do not like each other."

"It is not simply dislike. I do not care much for certain other members of the group, either, but I do not believe them to be as dangerous or unstable as Bishop."

"Qara would be disappointed to hear you say that," she smiled.

"What I wanted to say, is... if being with Bishop makes you happy, then I will not try to dissuade you from your choice."

"Thank you. It means a lot to me that you respect my decisions." What else could she say? She couldn't deny it, and unless she told him what _really_ happened, he wouldn't believe her even if she did.

"But I will still be keeping a close watch on him, and I still do not trust him."

"Neither do I."_ But then again, I don't really trust anyone_, she added mentally.


	71. Thoughts on change

_71. Thoughts on change_

The Greycloaks saluted Kail as she left her room late in the afternoon. Not in the mood to speak with anybody, she had sequestered herself inside for most of the day, asking Kana to arrange a meeting for her companions later on. Not that she was avoiding them, of course, but she had a lot to think about, and hadn't had time to digest everything that she had learnt during her 'death'.

Her mother... apart from the same dark hair, her mother didn't look as much like her as she would have thought. Where her own eyes were stone-grey, her mother's were sparkling blue. Where she was fairly short, her mother was of average height, if not a little taller than average. Where she struggled constantly with the realisation that she was Bhaal-spawn, that her tainted blood might try to control her, to corrupt her, to make her do its bidding, her mother had accepted the fact, ignored it as best she could, and moved on.

Was it the act of _dwelling_ on it, the act of _acknowledging_ it, that gave the taint its strength? Did the taint somehow... react to the dragon-blood within her, making it more difficult for her to ignore it than her mother had suggested? Could it be true that she was, deep down, a bad person, regardless of Bhaal's blood? Her mother had spoken true about that... people had been killing each other and hurting each other since the beginning of time. It didn't take the blood of the Lord of Murder to make people do that. Just look at how Lorne had led the slaughter at Ember. It was a combination of external events, combined with Lorne's internal thoughts and personality, that had led him to become a murderer for Luskan.

She wondered... Bishop had once worked for Luskan too. How had he managed to break away from them? What had he done to avoid Lorne's fate? Perhaps it was simply down to personality differences. Bishop disliked being ordered around, being told what to do, yet Lorne had had no problem taking orders from Garius. Why? What was he getting out of it? Had he felt that he had something to prove, that he could be as tough as anybody else? Was losing the Harvest Brawl to Cormick all those years ago the trigger for that change, for that mentality surfacing within Lorne?

If so, if outside events could influence people to that extent, then how would events of the present and future influence her friends? If something could happen to Lorne to cause him to turn to Luskan, to turn away from West Harbor, then could events also cause her current companions to turn away from her? She had settled down onto a chair to give the situation some serious thought.

She was fairly certain that absolutely nothing could turn Zhjaeve away from her, away from the battle with the King of Shadows. Zhjaeve knew herself, she knew what she must do, and she was absolutely committed to her course of action. The only thing that might make Zhjaeve turn away was... the other githzerai. They might call her back to Limbo, they might decide that they wanted no part in this war after all, that the risk of the githyanki's wrath was too great to be involved in helping the Kalach-Cha. Yet Zhjaeve had given her word that she would stay and fight.

Casavir was another obvious one. He wanted to rid the world of evil, so as long as the King of Shadows remained a bigger evil than she, he would help her to fight. As long as she didn't start slaughtering innocent people left, right and centre, she knew that she would not lose Casavir's aid.

Likewise, little would deter Neeshka. Once, the promise of wealth might have drawn the tiefling away. But now it was too late for that. The bond between them was strong, almost familial, and even riches beyond both of their wildest dreams could not change that.

Nor would Khelgar be dissuaded from helping. It was a combination of honour and sheer dwarven stubbornness that kept him in the fight.. As long as he had somebody or something to punch, he would stay. And his new-found dedication to 'fighting the good fight' would ensure his loyalty.

Shandra would fight because, like Kail, she had nothing else left to live for. Her home was gone, her farm was gone, and with it her livelihood. With the destruction of Ember and West Harbor, Shandra had turned the fight against the King of Shadows into something personal. She seemed determined to make somebody pay for destroying both villages, determined to see true justice done. As far as Shandra was concerned, Lord Nasher had abandoned Ember, let people believe that because Lorne was dead and Torio captive, justice was satisfied. But it was not.

There was probably no force in the world that could tear Grobnar away from this quest. Accompanying a hero on a life-threatening adventure was every bard's dream, and now that Grobnar had the construct to tinker with, he had no desire to leave. And it was the possibility of _more constructs_, amongst other things, that made him stay. He had an insatiable curiosity that would never cease, and a genuine desire to do good.

Elanee was more difficult to understand. Though she was determined to seek out and destroy the source of corruption within the Mere, Kail didn't doubt that if word of her Circle reached her ears, Elanee would be off immediately to investigate. Her interests lay in protecting the land, especially the Mere, and the King of Shadows represented only the largest threat to it at the moment. The elf's priorities might change at any moment, as easily as a change in the wind.

The reasons Qara stuck around were simple; it was a choice between helping Kail or playing tavern maid for Duncan, and at least this way she got to use her powers. Qara leapt at any possible chance to use, and increase, her abilities, with no regard for the consequences. She had little or no loyalty, and absolutely no dedication to the common cause. But if the situation changed, if Qara was offered the chance to further increase her powers, she would be off in an instant.

And that left her with the two biggest unknowns; Bishop and Sand. Both were with her for reasons of their own, reasons that they didn't seem willing to share. At first, Bishop had only joined them because Duncan had threatened him in some way. And Sand had joined because Nevalle had likewise threatened him. People who were forced to do something under duress were the riskiest to have around. They usually offered help only for as long as it served their needs.

As for Sand and Bishop... they shared an intense dislike of Luskan, yet this was no longer a fight against Luskan. She was fairly sure that knowledge was a key reason that Sand was still around; the shards were a mystery that he had not been able to solve, and he wanted to see a resolution. Bishop could be staying for any number of reasons... for monetary gain, to annoy Casavir, or maybe even because he found it amusing to stay. Regardless of their motives, the pair represented a grey area in her knowledge, and she did not like grey areas.

That was, partially, why she was struggling so much with Zhjaeve's meditations. She didn't know how much of her actions were hers alone, and how much was being influenced by the taint of Bhaal, or the dragon-blood, or the shard in her chest. What if she was being moved around like a puppet on a string, dancing to somebody else's tune? How could she be sure that her actions were truly her own? It was this indecision that was making her doubt herself, making her doubt that she was making the right choices. It was this doubt, she was beginning to realise, that she needed to overcome in order to 'know' herself.

And now, as she strolled down the corridor, she wondered if the Greycloaks and Keep staff, to whom she nodded affably in greeting, saw within her the same doubt and indecision that she saw within herself. Did they see somebody who was afraid to know herself, afraid to make decisions? Did they see somebody who they thought was too young and inexperienced to lead? So far, nobody had commented on her age, nobody had questioned her experience, and she knew that she owed at least some of that to Lucas. He had told her that as long as you _look_ like you know what you're doing, and project and air of confidence, nobody will even think of questioning you. They'll take it for granted that since you _look_ sure, you _are_ sure. So she strolled and nodded, master of her own Keep, rather than scurrying and hiding as she often felt like doing.

From behind the door of her office she head voices rumbling in discussion, though she couldn't make out the speakers or the words. She took a deep breath, gave herself a mental count to three, and opened the door. The voices immediately ceased, and everybody turned to look at her expectantly. The silence was overwhelming as she perched on the edge of her desk. Then she cleared her throat, and began the short speech which she had been preparing as she walked down the corridor.

"Thank you all for coming. It seems like only minutes since we were last here, discussing Arvahn... a lot has changed since then. As you may have heard, Aldanon has located what he thinks is Ammon Jerro's haven. Shandra and I will be travelling there as soon as the snow has cleared enough, and, as with Arvahn, anybody who wants to come is welcome. But I should warn you, infernal magic has been detected there. It's possible that the place is infested with devils or demons. It's possible that whoever destroyed West Harbor has taken advantage of Ammon Jerro's death and moved his own operations into the empty haven. My main concern is with locating information regarding githyanki silver swords, specifically the forging of them. But if I am also able to stop the person who destroyed West Harbor, then I will attempt to do so, and I will expect nobody to interfere. Now, I don't know how long it will take before the snow clears, so I want anybody who's coming to be prepared to leave at a moment's notice. Until then, your time is your own. Questions?"

"What is known about the haven?" asked Elanee. "What can we expect to find when we arrive there?"

"My mother told me that there are... trials... before we can access the haven," Shandra explained. "And that I'll be required to spill my blood. Though if anybody else is willing to try their blood first, you're quite welcome."

"Know that I will accompany you," said Zhjaeve. "You will not have to endure the trials alone."

"Thanks," said Shandra, smiling. "That makes me feel a little better, at least."

"Unknown trials, mysterious wizards, rampaging demons... count me in!" said Grobnar.

Before long everybody had agreed to accompany them, and the group began to disperse. Eventually, only Neeshka was left, and the tiefling seemed to be... studying her.

"What's wrong?" she asked after several minutes of silence.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just wondering if I have to beat some more sense into you."

"Have you been talking to Casavir?" she sighed.

"Think about that sentence for a moment," grinned Neeshka. "Me? Willingly talking to Casavir? Besides, what does _he_ have to do with any of this?"

"He wants me to stay behind. He thinks I'll lose it if I catch sight of whoever destroyed West Harbor."

"Oh, that. I wasn't talking about the mission to the haven. I'm talking about your antics last night."

"What have you heard?" she asked, trying not to squirm uncomfortably under Neeshka's red-eyed gaze.

"That you spent the entire night with Bishop. No, don't say anything, I want to give you some advice. I'm not sure that... this... is a good idea. I can't imagine that you have feelings for him, and I understand that sometimes you get an itch that you just need to scratch, but if it was just sex, then Ophala keeps a couple of men around just for that. No strings, attachment-free sex."

"But--" she tried to interrupt, but Neeshka just carried on.

"Now, I know that it's a bit far to go to The Mask in Neverwinter every time you're in the mood for a little midnight fun, so I think we could get Ophala to send one of her guys over here... or two, if you're into that sort of thing... sort of on a loan. But on the other hand, if you prefer Bishop, then at least _promise_ me that the pair of you will restrain yourselves while we're forced to camp outside. There is absolutely no privacy to be had out there, and I for one don't fancy trying to sleep through all the noise."

"But Neeshka--"

"And don't worry about the repercussions of your actions. I've _discreetly_ bought some herbs from Uncus that will stop you getting pregnant. Kids are something you can't afford to be dealing with right now... maybe when the King of Shadows is defeated and we're safer... though I'd still question your taste in father for your children, but hey, that's your decision not mine."

"I don't want--"

"But at least tell me that it was worth it, that the land moved or whatever."

"Neeshka, nothing like that happened last night."

"So you _didn't_ enjoy it?"

"There was nothing to enjoy! Listen to me, but don't repeat _any_ of what I'm about to tell you to the others, okay?"

"Okay," Neeshka agreed, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"Last night, with Bishop and Zhjaeve's help, I died."

"You what?!"

"I drank poison that Bishop provided for me then I could die and speak to my mother. After an hour, Zhjaeve brought me back. I spent the rest of the night sleeping, and I swear to the gods, that's the whole truth."

"You _died?_"

"Only for an hour."

"Dead is dead, no matter how long for. So... you really didn't spend the night having wild sex?"

"No, I was asleep."

"Then why do the Greycloaks say they heard you at it _all night_?"

"I have no idea. It's just a rumour that I allowed to circulate so that nobody would find out what I was really doing and try to stop me. I suppose that, being the source of the rumours, it makes the Greycloaks feel more important about themselves if they have more details to tell, so they probably made that part up."

"So... you died."

"Yes!"

"Wow. How did that go? Did you speak to your mother? What was it like being dead? Did it hurt?"

Kail recounted the entire tale to Neeshka, starting with her request to Bishop for assistance, and ending with her discussion with Casavir that morning. As she explained, Neeshka's tail twitched from side to side as the tiefling considered everything that had been said, by both her mother and Jergal.

"I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions... I really should have known better than that, huh?" Neeshka said at last, a little embarrassed at her long tirade.

"Don't worry about it. Those are the sort of conclusions I _want_ people to jump to. The soldiers can probably identify better with a Captain who has physical desires than one who dies to speak to her dead mother. I don't think know that would give them much confidence in me, no matter how well it turned out in the end."

"What was your mother like? Was she everything that you imagined?"

"I don't know. I hadn't really imagined her much, in the past. Until I met Duncan, I didn't know much about her, and Daeghun brought me up to be practical, rather than whimsical. I didn't have time much for daydreaming about my dead mother. But she was beautiful. She seemed so... calm, so peaceful. She wasn't tormented by the taint of her blood, she just seemed to accept it and ignore it so easily. Why can't it be like that for me?"

"Maybe because you're not your mother. You've both led different lives, both been influenced by different experiences."

"I just wish it wasn't so difficult for me."

"If wishes were horses, you could own a cavalry," Neeshka grinned. "I'm glad that you got to talk to your mother, but if you _ever_ do anything like this again, I want to be present. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"So... would you like to keep the herbs? If everybody believes the rumours, where's the harm in making it reality?"

"No thanks. I have enough on my mind already."

"Alright. All I'm saying is, I wouldn't judge you for it. I'll keep hold of them just in case you change your mind."

"I won't. But thank you for the thought. And for not being too angry with me over the whole dying thing."

"Don't worry about it. And fear not... nobody else will hear about it. At least, not from me."

o - o - o - o - o

For two days the sky remained clear, the sun bright but too weak to melt the snow. Kail spent more time on administrative tasks with Kana, partially to avoid Zhjaeve, partially because she knew her time within the Keep was limited. The latter because as soon as the snow cleared she would be gone, and the former because the githzerai woman wished to discuss Kail's experiences with death, and to move forward with their meditations. But she didn't feel ready for that yet. So she threw herself into her duties as Captain of Crossroad Keep.

With the training yard full of snow, training of the Greycloaks was moved to a large room inside the Keep that Kana had had outfitted with training dummies, weapon racks and practise mats. Kail spent a few hours one day watching Khelgar and Casavir put some of the Greycloaks through their paces, while Shandra instructed others on unarmed combat. Though Kail wished she could help with the training, she knew that her own special sort of fighting -- unarmoured and with no shield -- would not be suitable for the 'cloaks to learn. Their methods were simpler, and though there was some skill involved, the success of a Greycloak campaign usually relied on their numbers, rather than their abilities.

With the recent additions of an armourer and a weaponsmith to the Keep's staff list, the Greycloaks were at least kitted out with better weapons and sturdier armour than they had started out with. By Kana's assessment, they could now easily hold off an attack by a kobold tribe... as long as there weren't too many gnolls or hobgoblins amongst them. To Kail this didn't sound too promising, but Kana assured her that they were rapidly approaching common Greycloak standards.

Because the deep snow made working outside impossible, Master Veedle and his team were forced to continue structural repairs inside the Keep. Much to Kail's vexation, Veedle managed to start doing extra work on her suite whilst she was out inspecting the Greycloaks, and she came back to find a newly built four-poster bed with a canopy, a huge bath-tub in one corner of the room, a hearth twice as large as it previously had been, and long, luxurious curtains that covered the windows right down to the floor. Several more sconces had been affixed to her walls, so that her bedroom was no longer somewhere cold and dark, and somewhere that she easily wanted to leave, but now was bordering on sumptuous. When Veedle started talking about cushions and carpets and how he could cheaply import silks, she had him thrown out of the room then ordered the construct to guard her door and prevent Veedle from returning.

To her relief, Bishop didn't try even once to weasel his way back into her room, nor did he suggest carrying on the charade which they had started. If anything, he seemed to be ignoring her, and barely even acknowledged her when she chanced across him. It was almost as if the events of the night she had died had never even happened. But she did not doubt that he would remember the 'price' that she owed him for his assistance; she only hoped he wouldn't ask for _too_ much.

At one point, she became suspicious when Sand and Grobnar started spending a lot of time together sequestered down in the basement where Grobnar had set up a laboratory of sorts. But when she learnt that they were working on trying to perfect Sand's Timestop-Bottle, she left them to it. If they were successful, such a device could prove to be _very_ useful, and might even give them an edge over the King of Shadows.

When she wasn't doing administrative work, or watching the Greycloaks, or avoiding Zhjaeve, she spent time in the library, carefully probing Aldanon's knowledge of Bhaalspawn, and Godspawn in general. The most famous of the Godspawn, even more famous than Bhaal's children, were the Seven Sisters, the daughters of Mystra who all possessed at least some magical ability. Perhaps the second most famous of the Godspawn was Iyachtu Xvim, the half-demon son of Bane who was later slain to allow his father's return. But no god had produced as many children as Bhaal, Lord of Murder. Tales of the Bhaalspawn varied greatly; some were bastions of goodness and light, some were creatures of absolute evil. They came in every form, from elves to dragons; they were humans and gnomes and drow and half-orc. Some were famed for the exploits, whilst others led tiny, mediocre lives. Yet almost all of the stories ended the same; the children were slain, either by priests of Bhaal attempting to bring back their dead patron, or by each other, or armies of lands afraid to home such potentially dangerous beings.

According to Aldanon, there was once a Bhaawlspawn so powerful that he was offered his father's throne. But for some reason, he had turned down the offer, choosing to live his life instead as a mortal. Nobody had seen or heard from him again, leading some to speculate that he had been killed, and others to speculate that he had never even existed in the first place, and that the whole story had been made up by an eager bard. Of course, as far as Kail was concerned, it was all just rumour that Aldanon had heard.

On the third day of performing mundane tasks and avoiding Zhjaeve, the wind changed. A warm front blew over the land from the sea, bringing with it dark grey clouds that heralded a rain storm. By the morning of the fourth day, the snow was entirely gone. Wanting to take advantage of the milder weather while it lasted, Kail sent Kana to round up her friends. It was time to set out for Ammon Jerro's haven.


	72. Haven

_72. Haven_

Kail looked out over what had once been a vast floodplain. Now, the ground was bare and dry, and the temperature was unnaturally warm for the season. Some of her companions were removing their coats, and others were unlacing their shirts, allowing what little cool breeze existed to blow around their shoulders and necks. In the near distance were hills, and into one of them was built a fortress of stone. It was larger in size than Crossroad Keep, and didn't exactly scream 'wizard's tower' at her.

"_This_ is where my grandfather's haven is?" asked Shandra, looking around skeptically at the barren land. "Are we sure Aldanon got the location right?"

"I hope so. It took us a week to walk here, so we might as well explore the area thoroughly," she replied.

"Alright," Shandra sighed. "I suppose there might be an entrance somewhere nearby."

The group began to split up and spread out, and Kail became aware that, for some reason, there were subtle shifts in the group dynamics. Previously, Shandra and Grobnar had been inseparable. Neeshka and Khelgar usually walked together, as did Elanee and Casavir. Thinking back, she realised she had first noticed something afoot whilst they had been walking to the haven. Located far to the north of Crossroad Keep, at south-eastern section of the mountain range known as The Craggs, it had taken them a full week to complete the trip. Watching her friends as they spread out, she realised there were _definite_ changes to the status quo.

Now, Neeshka and Shandra wandered off together, and seemed to be excluding Elanee from whatever clique they had formed. Zhjaeve and Casavir walked, if not together, than at least side by side, whilst Sand conversed with Grobnar about something and Khelgar followed them. Elanee and Qara looked around the area together, the former with more care than the latter. Bishop set off alone with Karnwyr in his usual loner fashion. And when Kail herself stepped forward to follow the others, something heavy and metallic stomped behind her.

The aptly named Mister Pointy, now fully mobile, had been brought along on the mission by Grobnar, who claimed that the construct got lonely when left behind. Kail had allowed it, because when it came down to the facts of the matter, having a pointy instrument of death to fight on your side was a good way of improving your chances of survival. But ever since Grobnar had commanded it to guard her, it followed two paces behind her, towering over her and stomping loudly wherever she went. It made stealth impossible.

"I say, look at this," said Grobnar. He was stood in front of a large frame that had a stone brazier placed in the middle of the ground inside it. Around the outside of the frame were four stone gargoyles facing each direction, their faces twisted into unnatural grimaces. "They're remarkably life-like, aren't they?"

"A little _too_ life-like, if you ask me," said Sand, inching backwards as Khelgar took hold of his weapon. "I would move away _very_ slowly if I were you, Grobnar."

"But Sand, they're just stone carvings of... oh my!" Grobnar jumped aside as the gargoyles' eyes began to glow red. One of them swiped at him with its taloned claws, and he was saved from being gored as he tripped over his own feet and fell to the floor.

In an instant, the area became a flurry of movement. Arrows whistled past Kail as she hurried to the downed gnome, and magic missiles zipped around her, interspersed with bolts of magical fire. The onslaught of magic and missiles didn't stop as Kail stooped to help Grobnar to his feet, and as she stood she caught movement from her peripheral vision. Loping towards them were a pack of ethereal dogs, huge and slobbering. Neeshka and Bishop, who had their backs to the pack of canines as they fired at the gargoyles, didn't see the beasts approach.

"Neeshka, Bishop, behind you!" she called, pointing past them. They turned just in time to duck, and Kail saw a streak of tawny-grey fur leap with jaws open wide at one of the shadowy beasts before she herself was pushed down and pinned with sharp claws that pierced the skin of her shoulder and back.

For an instant she felt her whole body being crushed into the floor as the talons sank into her back, and Grobnar, who had been pushed underneath her, was crushed even more. Then, mercifully, the pain was gone. She rolled onto her back, freeing Grobnar, and saw the construct pick up the gargoyle that had pinned her and throw it at another of the winged beasts. The pair fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs and wings, and within seconds Casavir and Khelgar were there, caving in the rock-like heads to ensure they never rose.

Zhjaeve rushed to her aid, casting a healing spell the instant she was near. As healing magic rushed through her body, she noticed Shandra fighting one of the huge spirit-dogs as Neeshka and Bishop shot arrows at it. They had switched to magically-enchanted ammunition, and each beast was bristled with them. Elanee entered the fray, and she seemed to be empowered by some sort of spell; her eyes, normally warm brown, were now silver, and lightning crackled around her body. Her feet did not touch the ground; instead, she hovered slightly above it, gusts of powerful wind supporting her mass and giving her incredible speed. Her scimitar whirled as she spun her body to dodge and strike at each huge dog, and a pile of bodies began to form around her.

"I do believe that's Storm Avatar," said Grobnar. "I've never seen it done before... very impressive."

"Very impressive indeed," said Sand, eyeing Elanee appreciatively.

"Help me up," she said, content to leave the slaughter to the elven woman. Sand hauled her to her feet, and in turn she pulled up Grobnar, who seemed none the worse for being crushed beneath bodies.

"Know that you take unnecessary risks, Kalach-Cha," said Zhjaeve.

"If it's a choice between taking unnecessary risks or watching Grobnar be eviscerated, I'll take the risks, thanks."

"How are ye, lass?" asked Khelgar, poking at the small holes in her cloak that showed where the gargoyle's claws had pierced her skin.

"Never better," she said, eyeing Elanee. The dogs were all dead, and the effects of the spell were wearing off. The elf's eyes returned to their normal colour, and her feet connected with the ground as the wind dissipated. "What were those things, anyway?"

"Shadow mastiffs," said Zhjaeve. "Hounds that live on the border between the Plane of Shadow and the Prime Material. The closer they come to the Prime side of the border, the more substantial their bodies become, and the more easily they can be harmed."

"Are they anything like those Nessian War Hounds we fought when the unknown wizard attacked the Mask and killed Melia?" she asked Sand.

"No... those are kin of Hellhounds, which are a sort of demonic dog. Shadow mastiffs are from a different Plane of existence. Needless to say, they're harder to kill and not as much fun when they bite you," he replied.

"Whew, that was close," said Neeshka, approaching with Elanee, Bishop and Shandra. "Thanks for the warning. Those things came out of _nowhere_. I wonder how they got here."

"Know that they were most likely attracted by the high levels of infernal magics in this area. Though not infernal creatures themselves, they are nonetheless able to sense such magics on the Prime, and to move into this reality from their own."

"Well I vote we don't all go wandering off at random again," said Bishop, fixing another arrow onto his bow.

"You have my vote," said Kail. "Shandra, I want you near me, at the front of the group. If there's something around here attuned in to your blood, it might mean nothing will attack you. Everybody else, stick close together. A group is safer than a line of people, and I want anybody who relies on magic to be in the middle of the group, where it's safest."

"I can sense the infernal magic much more strongly over there," said Neeshka, pointing to a narrow canyon, at the end of which stood the fortress-like structure.

"Looks as good a place as any," she agreed, leading her friends onward.

The walls of the canyon were steep; so steep that they were unclimbable. Every so often they came across a tall, carved stone face, like nothing they had seen before. Eventually the canyon opened up into something of a forecourt, and in front of them stood a stone altar, and...

"Now that _is_ an impressive piece of craftsmanship!" said Grobnar in awe. "Why, he's almost twice the size of Mister Pointy! Do you think that we could perhaps take him home with us and reprogram him to do our bidding?"

"I am _not_ carrying another golem home with me, gnome," Bishop growled. She couldn't really blame him. Carrying the blade golem back to Neverwinter from the githyanki caves where they had found it had been a trying experience, and not one that anybody who had carried it was eager to relive. The construct behind the altar was huge, and although it wasn't bladed, as theirs was, she was willing to bet it could inflict quite a lot of damage on anybody it took exception to.

"Try speaking to it," she suggested to Shandra. The other woman approached it cautiously, ready to jump back at a moment's notice.

"Uh... hello?" she said.

"The way is closed to all but those of the line of Jerro," the guardian intoned by rote.

"Well, that would be me. I'm a Jerro, so open up."

"Know that sharing the Jerro blood is only the first step. You, and any allies, must also walk the three Paths - Determination, Righteousness, and Sight."

"Tell us about the Path of Determination," said Kail.

"It is the ability to disregard pain and loss and suffering to reach your goal - any goal. You will need this." The golem held out an empty glass vial, which she took from him and put in her pack.

"And the Path of Righteousness?"

"It is the will to do what must be done to achieve the greater good. A barbarian shaman often meditates at the highest point of this area, seeking a vision from his god. When he receives that vision, he will unite a number of tribes under one banner, and they shall sweep over the land like a plague. Destroying him now will ensure that such a thing will not come to pass."

"What about the Path of Sight?"

"It is the ability to seek out dangers you sense but cannot see. Use the braziers in the area to illuminate the threat and destroy it."

"Sounds simple enough," said Qara.

"Why do you suppose people like to put trials in threes?" asked Grobnar. "Sir Khelgar had to undergo three trials before the priests of Tyr would consider accepting him. And Ammon Jerro has set three trials to prove that Shandra is his kin."

"I suppose three is as good a number as any," Kail shrugged. "Come on, let's get started. The sooner we're gone from here, the better. Besides, I don't trust Veedle to stay out of my suite whilst I'm gone."

They walked back through the canyon again, to the first brazier they had encountered. Suddenly, the construct rushed forward, and several large fire elementals that had been lying in wait jumped out to attack it. Before Casavir, Shandra and Khelgar could rush into the fray, Sand called a storm of ice which fell from the sky onto the elementals. At the same time, Qara raised her hands, and a cloud of grey ash rose from the ground. _Horrid Wilting_, she thought. It was worrying that she hadn't realised the girl's powers had grown so strong.

"I say, be careful, that ice could damage Mister Pointy!" said Grobnar, hurrying forward even before the storm had ended.

"Then you should teach it to keep out of the path of fire," Sand replied.

When the storm ended, the rest of the group hurried forward to despatch the remaining fire elemental. When it died, it left behind what appeared to be a burning rock. Grobnar tried to pick it up, and it singed the tips of his fingers.

"I wonder what it is," said Neeshka, poking it with a stick.

"It looks like a heart," said Casavir. "Perhaps this is what's needed to illuminate the threat so that we can destroy it."

"I'll do it," Kail sighed. From a pocket of her pack she took out two rolls of bandages and wrapped them around her hands. Then she picked up the fiery heart, ignoring the way it sizzled at the thin layer of material that protected her skin, and placed it in the brazier. The whole area was lit up with a warm glow, and several ethereal shapes, shadow mastiffs and shadows, stepped towards her.

Unable to handle her weapons because of the bandages, she instead raised her hands and sent a wave of dragon-fire over the shadowy creatures in front of her. Two of the shadows were destroyed, as was one of the shadow mastiffs. The others backed off, afraid to face the fire that they hated. She took advantage of the gap in the circle, and ran forward into clear space. Even as she fumbled with the bandages on her hands, she saw a circle of white light encompass Zhjaeve as she channelled positive energy. The circle expanded, and the shadows caught by it dissolved. Meanwhile, the construct was taking care of the shadow mastiffs, using its huge bladed arm to slice them in half.

"I think the construct should be the one to do that in future," she said, taking a deep breath. "Will somebody get these bloody bandages off my hands?"

Neeshka grinned and stepped forward to unravel the bandages while Grobnar checked the construct for any damage.

"I must say, it's performing marvelously," he said. "Far exceeding my expectations of it."

"Yes, for a walking instrument of death, it's not doing _too_ badly," said Sand.

"I wonder if my grandfather had to go through these trials every time he wanted to enter his haven," Shandra mused.

"Probably not," replied Sand. "It's more likely that, as the creator of the construct that guards the entrance, he merely instructed it to let him pass every time. The trials are designed more to keep out unwanted visitors."

"Then let's hope we're not so unwanted that the guardian turns us away," said Kail. "For now, something tells me this wasn't the last brazier we'll be encountering. Keep a sharp eye out for anything that moves."

o - o - o - o - o

As it turned out, there were only two more braziers to light, and by midday they found themselves looking up at a steep hill. A path was carved into one side of the hill, curving upwards. Kail used the back of her hand to wipe the sheen of sweat from her face, then turned to survey her companions. They were all physically tired, from both the week of walking and the morning of fighting in the unnatural heat. Qara looked like she couldn't take another step, and even Zhjaeve looked daunted by the climb.

"I suppose this is where we'll find the shaman," Shandra sighed, gesturing at the ascent.

"Bah, hills be damned!" Khelgar swore, sitting down on a rock. "I'm not climbing that thing, only to come down again five minutes later!"

"Me neither," said Qara. "Besides, it's just one shaman. There's no point in us all going."

"Know that I will go with you, Kalach-Cha," said Zhjaeve.

"Mister Pointy, go with Shandra and Kail," said Grobnar, sinking gratefully to the ground. "You see, he doesn't get tired, so the climb is no problem for him."

"The climb isn't a problem for _all_ of us," said Bishop, only managing to sound half-condescending. "Besides, everybody knows that the higher you go, the stronger the breeze."

"I will stay and replenish some of my spells," said Elanee.

"As will I," Sand added. Kail smiled. His long dark hair was plastered to his head, and in his long robe, he looked like a wilting flower.

"You might as well stay here too," she said to Casavir and Neeshka. "Like Khelgar said, we'd only be coming right down again. Everyone who stays can start breaking out the rations and the water. We probably won't get as good a chance as this to take a break and have something to eat."

As the group who were staying behind began setting up a basic, fire-less camp, Kail led Shandra, Bishop, Zhjaeve and the Mister Pointy to the path, and they began the ascent.

"It's too bad we didn't bring the horses," said Shandra, breathing heavily as they climbed. "I could do with something big and pliable to carry me up here."

"Well, there's always the construct," said Kail.

"Or Casavir," Bishop grinned. "I'm guessing your grandfather was one of those annoying people who likes to make everybody's lives as difficult as possible. Why else would he put a shaman at the highest point, instead of on the ground like any normal person."

"Because then it would not be a challenge," said Zhjaeve.

At the top of the hill, towards the edge of a cliff that led vertically down, they found an old man, dressed in the furs of animals and looking out into the distance. As they approached he turned to greet them.

"I know why you have come, strangers. I stand before you, unarmed and helpless. What will you do?"

"The golem said you're a threat," Kail said. "Is that true?"

"To my people I will be a saviour. To everyone else I will be doom and despair. I ask again -- what will you do?"

She looked at Shandra, who shrugged. Zhjaeve and Bishop were no help, either. They merely watched her, intently yet blankly. The golem had said that the trial was to do what must be done for the greater good. And the gods knew, she had done what needed to be done before.

"I don't want to kill you, but I have no choice," she said at last.

"You have doubts, and yet you refuse to let them stop you from acting as necessary. Excellent," said the shaman with a smile. Without warning a flail was in his hands, and he swung it at her with all of his might. She stepped back, and as he swung again she crouched and rolled back, coming to her feet as her hands automatically found her daggers. But faster than she, the construct grabbed the shaman's flail with its hand, and thrust its bladed appendage into his stomach. The man gurgled as his innards gushed out of the hole in his abdomen, then he sank to the floor, bleeding and silent. Bishop took the unfired arrow from his bow and gave the construct an appraising glance.

"No wonder the people of Illefarn were so fond of these things," he said.

"It is rather... effective," she agreed.

"I wonder if the shaman was real," said Shandra, staring at the motionless corpse. "I mean... was it something my grandfather created and put here, or was it a real person who waited here for decades just because my grandfather asked him to. And what he if had died of natural causes before we ever arrived. Would that mean the trial could never be completed?"

"I do not know," said Zhjaeve.

"We might never know," Kail said, laying a comforting hand on Shandra's arm.

"Ah, now this makes it all worth it," said Bishop. He was stood near the ledge of the cliff, and a strong breeze was whipping his cloak around him, tugging at his short hair.

They joined him, and Kail closed her eyes as the cool breeze caressed her skin. She felt the wind moving her clothes, her hair, drying the sweat from her forehead and the back of her neck.

"Too bad there's no nice, cold stream nearby," said Shandra wistfully. "I could really use a good wash right now. This dust gets _everywhere_."

"Hmm. Interesting," said Bishop, looking at something in the distance.

"What's interesting?" asked Shandra suspiciously. "And if you're thinking about using Grobnar's telescopic vision-things to spy on me bathing, I don't want to hear about it."

"The thought had never crossed my mind. _That_ is what's interesting." He pointed to a plume of steam in the distance. "And do you smell that?"

Kail sniffed the air, trying to detect anything out of the ordinary. For a few minutes she smelt nothing, and then the breeze changed direction, bringing with it a familiar smell. It reminded her of Tarmas' house, before it had been burnt down, and she smiled in understanding.

"Sulphur. That explains why this place is so hot, even in the middle of winter."

"And why there's not much of anything growing here."

"What explains it?" asked Shandra. "I don't understand, what do you mean?"

"Sulphur," she explained, "is a byproduct of certain reactions. In this case, a natural geothermic reaction taking place beneath the land. This whole area is being heated naturally by hot, pressurised water, which is escaping from a vent over there." She pointed at the plume of steam in the near distance. "There, the hot water rises to the surface as vapour, bringing with the it the smell of rotten eggs. It's probably why your grandfather created his haven here in the first place. I've heard it said that some people have attempted to harness the natural energy of the land."

"I see. Well, are we going to check it out, later? There's not much else around here, after all, and we still have another trial to go through," Shandra sighed.

"Yes, soon. Zhjaeve, Bishop, will you take the construct back to the others? We'll be down shortly."

When they had herded the golem down the hillside, she turned to observe Shandra. She seemed pensive, even worried, as she looked out at the landscape.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I just wonder what kind of a man my grandfather was, to require us to kill somebody just to enter his haven."

"When we get back to Crossroad Keep, you should ask Aldanon to tell you about him. He knew your grandfather when they were younger, you know."

"Really? I didn't know that. I wish I could have known him myself, but I guess hearing it from Aldanon is the next best thing. If he can remain coherent enough to remember my questions, of course," she said wryly.

"Is that all that's bothering you, or is there something else?"

"I'm that obvious, huh?"

"Not really. I just get the feeling you've got a lot on your mind."

"I guess you could say that. So much has happened in so short a time... I don't feel like the same person you first met, back in Highcliff when the lizardmen burnt my farm. I feel like an entirely different Shandra Jerro."

"We all change, over time."

"Maybe. But we change all the faster for knowing you."

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

"Well... you bring change with you, and people are changed just by knowing you. Look at your friends. You've got a dwarf travelling with elves, a thief who doesn't steal from anyone working right beside a paladin, and everybody changing the ways they think and feel, because of you."

"They would have changed anyway," she shrugged. "Khelgar was already on the path to monkhood when I met him. All Neeshka needed was a chance to prove herself. And Casavir's always been fighting the good fight... now he just fights for his god, not for Neverwinter alone."

"But you have to admit that your presence, who you are, has been a catalyst for that change. It may have taken Khelgar years to complete his vision quests, without your guidance. Neeshka might never have found somebody to accept her for who she is. Elanee would never have come to a city and started caring about the balance there as much as the balance in nature. The gods know, you've changed me so much. Just by training me, and having faith in me, you've made me into a totally different person."

"I don't understand where this is going," she said, fidgeting uncomfortably. She didn't _want_ to be the cause of change in people. She didn't want to be responsible for folks changing their thoughts, their allegiances.

"Going? It's not really going anywhere. I'm just musing... I guess the closer we get to the haven, the more I dread it, and the more it forces me to reflect on my life. I can't help but think that so much of it has been wasted. I spent years ploughing my fields when I could have been doing this, helping people, making the realms a safer place. Again, that's a change you wrought in me, and one for the better, I think."

"You know that I wouldn't ask you to be here, doing this, unless I thought it was absolutely necessary, right? The thought of entering your grandfather's haven hardly fills me with joy, but it's something we both have to do. Even if we don't like it, we have to do it."

"Like killing the shaman," Shandra sighed.

"Maybe your grandfather was wiser than we give him credit for. Should we rejoin the others and get something to eat, before we turn even more melancholy?"

"Why not. We can't stay up here forever, after all. Real life will catch up with us eventually."

Kail nodded, and led the way down the hill. Behind them, the corpse of the dead shaman remained unmourned on the ground.

o - o - o - o - o

As the midday sun began its slow descent, Kail and her companions looked out over a path of geysers that ended with one large vent which spewed forth water vapour in a constant stream. The noxious smell of sulphur dioxide was almost overwhelming this close to the geysers, and more than one person was breathing through a handkerchief.

"What do you think we're supposed to do?" asked Shandra.

"Cross it, probably," said Sand.

"To what extent?"

"This," said Kail, holding up the vial that the golem had given to her. "Maybe we're supposed to bring something back for the construct."

"Hot water from the main vent, I would imagine," said Casavir. "It would certainly fill the 'pain' and 'suffering' criteria of the guardian's trial."

"Should we draw straws?" asked Grobnar. "It just so happens that I have some with me, and it won't take a moment to..."

"We don't need to draw straws. I'll go," said Kail.

"Why not just send the construct?" asked Neeshka.

"I'm not sure the construct could make it. Those jets of water look very, very hot, and if it was hit multiple times in more or less the same place, it could melt."

"And if it could melt the construct, just imagine what it could do to your _flesh_."

"I'll be fine," she said, shrugging off her pack and her cloak. They would only hinder her movement. Then she crouched down in front of the chain of geysers, trying to work out if there was a pattern to their eruptions. Ten minutes later she still hadn't spotted a pattern, and decided that the longer she waited, the more chance she had of talking herself out of it.

She waited for the small geyser in front of her to die down, then ran forward, dodging from side to side to avoid the worst of the heat. The temperature from beneath her made her start sweating again, and she resisted the urge to wipe her forehead as she weaved between the active vents. Several paces away from the end of the trail, she felt the ground rumbling beneath her. She put all of her effort into one last push, and leapt forward, rolling over her shoulder to land on her feet, just as the last vent in the sequence erupted. She had narrowly missed being scalded alive.

"This is all rather exciting," Grobnar called from the start of the vent system. "Rest assured that I am making plenty of notes about your heroic actions."

"Just get the damned water and get back here, wildcat," said Bishop, coughing. "This place is toxic. We can't safely stay much longer."

She fumbled in her pouch for the vial, and realised that Bishop was right. She hadn't noticed it before, but she felt woozy, light-headed, as if she'd had too much to drink. The plume of steam in front of her was swaying from side to side, and she didn't think that was natural. In retrospect, spending ten minutes trying to discern a pattern may _not_ have been the best idea. Slowly, she inched towards the vent, trying to ignore the way her vision swam as she got closer. Carefully, she held out the edge of the vial, catching some of the steam within it.

Either she had miscalculated the movement of the steam, or the vent threw out an erratic burst of vapour. The heat flared around her hand, causing searing pain to shoot up her arm. The vial fell from her grip, and rolled along the floor, back towards the smaller vents, and the fissures that connected them.

"Kail!" Neeshka shouted.

"The vial!" shouted Sand, before coughing violently into his handkerchief.

She made a dive, throwing herself bodily at the small vial as it rolled dangerously close to one of the dormant vents. At the last minute, her fingers closed around it, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Then the ground began to tremble again, and she threw herself aside just in time to avoid her whole head being scalded.

Her right hand was blistered and raw, and the skin was starting to peel from it. The sight made her even more light-headed, and she knew she had to act quickly before she went into shock. With her left hand, she quickly scooped some of the steam into the vial and put the stopper on it. It went back into her pouch, and she turned to face her friends. Most of them were coughing, and Grobnar looked close to passing out. She knew she herself wasn't in much of a better state, so as soon as the vent in front of her stopped spewing hot water, she ran as fast as possible through the maze of steam. When she reached the other side, she collapsed to the ground, dizzy from the fumes and delirious with pain.

"Got it," she said, offering a triumphant grin to whoever was still collected enough to notice her. At Zhjaeve's request, Casavir picked her up and carried her away from the geysers, and the rest of the group hurried ahead, gulping in fresh air when they reached it.

"Here, let me heal that," said Casavir when he placed her on the ground. He put his hands on her arm, channelling healing magic through his body and into hers. Her arm began to tingle, like pins and needles, and the feeling travelled to her hand and up her fingers. When the sensation ended, there was nothing but smooth, unburnt skin, and the effects of the gas were completely gone from her mind.

"Thanks," she said, as he ran his fingers over hers, checking for any residual damage. Her skin tingled at his touch.

"As good as new," he pronounced, letting her hand go. She flexed her fingers; her skin felt tight, but it no longer hurt.

"Hate to break up your fun, but I think the gnome could use some of your _caring_ attention, tin-head," Bishop coughed as he dropped to the ground beside them. She saw Grobnar some distance away, and he looked completely out of it. No doubt that his smaller lungs had absorbed the gaseous fumes more quickly than everybody else. Casavir hauled himself to his feet, and walked, only somewhat unsteadily, to Grobnar.

"Have you ever considered being nice to people?" she asked.

"Is that why you let him put his hands all over you? Because he's _nice_?"

"I think you're jealous."

"Of him? You've inhaled too much of that gas, wildcat."

"I think you're jealous," she said, lowering her voice so that nobody else could hear, "that he gives life, and you take it."

"I guess that makes two of us, then. Take a look at your path, bard. Death walks in your footsteps, wraps itself around you like a cloak. How many bodies lie behind you, how many people did you have to kill to bring some measure of peace around you? How many people have died, simply because you exist? Death becomes you, even more than it does me. Remember this, the next time you're feeling all high and mighty; death will stalk you for as long as you live, and the King of Shadows won't stop until he has destroyed everything you hold dear."

He stood and left, walking around under the pretence of stretching his legs. Kail was too shocked to react. He had spoken aloud her worse fears, though he couldn't possibly know about her past, about her tainted blood. And if he had noticed that much about her, how many of the others might also think the same way? Elanee had travelled with her from almost the very beginning... did she, too, think that death stalked her? Did Neeshka and Khelgar notice how people around her seemed to die so easily? Was Casavir right? Was she becoming the very thing she sought to destroy?

"Is something wrong?" asked Shandra, approaching cautiously. "It looked like you were arguing, and now you look like you've seen a ghost."

"It was nothing," she said, shaking her head. "How's Grobnar?"

"Better, now. How's your hand?"

"Fine," she said, clenching and unclenching her fist. The tightness and the tingling had gone completely. Shandra offered her her own hand, and hauled her to her feet.

"Then let's go and speak to the guardian. It's about time we got all of this over with. I'm fed up of avoiding fate. Let's take a look inside my grandfather's haven."

o - o - o - o - o

The air was still warm as they marched back to the entrance of the haven, and Kail was beginning to loathe the heat. She desperately hoped that the inside would be cooler, or at the very least, that there would be somewhere for them to have a quick wash. She felt hot, sweaty, and miserable. Even the cold of winter was preferable to this. At least in winter you could put layers on. There were only so many layers you could remove before you were down to bare skin, and still hot.

She stopped in front of the huge golem, and took the glass vial from her pouch.

"We have the vial of burning water. What do we do with it?"

"Nothing. Your willingness to suffer much for such an insignificant thing speaks well of you."

"I feel like I'm being patronised," she said to Shandra. And then, to the golem: "The shaman is dead, and the barbarian threat is ended."

"You did well. To be restricted by morality can be a fatal weakness when something greater is at stake."

From behind, she heard Casavir mumble something, but he was too far away and too quiet for her to make out what he said.

"The braziers are all lit and the shadows are all dead," she told the golem.

"Well done. Do not rely on sight alone. If you sense a threat, trust your instincts and use other means to root out that which hides from you. You have completed the tests set before you. However, your words and deeds alone are not proof in themselves that you possess the blood of the Master."

"Oh gods," cursed Shandra. "My grandfather must have loved his privacy -- too much, I think."

"Shed a drop of your blood on the pedestal, and the way shall open," said the golem.

"Are you sure we're ready for this? If it was this hard getting in, who knows how long it'll take to get back out?" said Shandra nervously.

"I'm ready when you are, Shandra," Kail assured her. "In your own time."

The other woman nodded, and took a small knife from her belt. It was nothing more than a knife to peel fruit, yet sharp enough to draw blood. Shandra used it to make a cut in her finger, then held it over the stone pedestal in front of the golem. Several drops spattered onto the stone, and the iron door, which had blocked their entrance, swung open.

"Hooray, it worked!" said Grobnar, clapping his hands. "I knew you wouldn't have to shed a whole pint!"

"I feel... strange," said Shandra. "My body feels like it's tingling."

"Maybe it's just... what in the gods' names?!" she said as Shandra was enveloped in a bright blue light. The lights spun faster and faster, and then they disappeared; and so did Shandra.

"Shandra? Shandra?" shouted Grobnar, panic in his voice. "Where did she go?!"

"Know that I believe that she was teleported in there," said Zhjaeve, pointing to the open doorway.

"Then we're going in," said Kail, loading ten small bolts into the RAMP. "We have to get her Shandra back."


	73. The Demon Within

_73. The Demon Within_

It took a few moments for Kail's eyes to adapt to the darkness, and when they did, she was greeted by a familiar visage. Inside a bright blue binding circle etched into the ground stood the devil named Mephasm. With his blue-hued skin and sylvan features, he could have passed for an elf... until you noticed his amber, reptilian eyes. As everybody filed into the room, he watched her, like a cat watching something that interested it... right before it decided whether it wanted to play with it, or kill it.

There was the sound of something slamming shut, and frantic movement from behind her.

"What was that?" she asked, not taking her gaze from the fiend.

"Ah... we appear to be locked in," said Grobnar. "Just give me a moment while I try to twist this thing here... no, we are, indeed, locked in."

"Greetings, my friend," said Mephasm.

"Who's this?" asked Neeshka, hanging protectively by her side.

"Your friend and I have met before, little one... in the caverns of the githyanki shortly before Zeeaire was brought low. I am Mephasm."

"How fascinating. I didn't ask you to introduce yourself. In fact, call me 'little one' again, and you're going to regret it."

"Neeshka... will you let me speak to Mephasm? I've dealt with him before, and I think I have some idea of how he works," she whispered, not wanting her friend to anger the potentially dangerous fiend.

"Well... all right. Since you asked. But never trust anyone who's as polite as he is. He gives me the holies."

"The... holies?" Sand asked, reminding Kail that his hearing was uncommonly sharp.

"Yeah, you know... vibes. Like the ones I get from Casavir. Good vibes, bad vibes, it's all the same as far as vibes are concerned."

"What are you doing here?" Kail asked Mephasm.

"You find me bound once more against my will. This time my cage is larger and more secure."

"I freed you, and yet here you are. Shame on you, this time. You're either the stupidest devil in the Lower Realms, or you're not being honest with me."

"Yes, I presume you are wondering why you found me first in the githyanki complex, and now again in this place. The dark warlock who summoned the demons to the githyanki complex where we first met has made this place his lair. From a laboratory at the centre he commands the energy he siphons from the demons and devils held captive here."

"Warlock? The same warlock who was there, in the githyanki complex in the Illefarn ruins? And again, at the Moonstone Mask?" Mephasm nodded. "What is his name?"

"You of all people should know the power of names. This warlock wears anonymity like a cloak to shield himself from his enemies."

"It sounds like you know more about this warlock than you let on."

"If you are implying that I have been less than honest with you, you are correct. The warlock is the master of Zaxis and I, as well as the others here. It was the warlock, not the githyanki, who summoned me to the caves. Should Zaxis have failed, I was to keep the githyanki bottled up at the portal. When you arrived, I saw a way to escape my bonds. However, I suspected you would not help me if you knew who held my reins, so to speak. Unfortunately, shortly after my escape, the warlock found me again, and this time he ensured my bonds were unbreakable."

"Is there a way to free you? Assuming, of course, that I even want to free you. Which, at the moment, I don't."

"Only the warlock himself could free me... or one who is a blood descendant of Ammon Jerro. Such a person could command the power of this place, but it is my understanding that Ammon Jerro's line has died out."

"Don't tell me you didn't know that Shandra is Jerro's descendant," she scoffed. She wasn't _that_ gullible.

"It appears you know something I did not, for once." He appeared genuinely surprised. "I had wondered how you were able to enter this place. But if you brought Shandra here, where is she? I do not see her among you."

"She disappeared as we entered. I have no idea where she is."

"You must find her. She is in great peril here." In his voice, she detected... something of alarm, and worry. It wasn't a strong emotion, it was barely there at all, but Lucas had taught her well to read faces and voices.

"Why? She's a Jerro. Shouldn't she be the safest one of all?"

"I've told you all I can about this matter. I fear I may already have said too much," he sighed.

"Can you help me find Shandra?"

"I do not know where Shandra is, but I hope she will find her way to me before encountering the other demons and devils here."

"Others? How many? And who are they?"

"There are five others in total, and I can tell you of two. There is Blooden, a leader among the succubi. She is as violent as she is seductive -- be careful. The other is Baalbisan, a balor so confident in his power that he does not bother to surround himself with minions, like the others. He especially scorns the presence of females. Most of the demons and devils here use their minions to fight each other, though such activity is pointless. Trapped in these summoning circles, they cannot be harmed, nor can they harm each other."

"If it's pointless, why do they fight?" asked Grobnar. He had made his way to the front of the group, all the better to observe -- and no doubt write about -- Mephasm.

"The tiny scuffles in this place are just smaller aspects of the Blood War," the demon replied.

"One side of law, the other of chaos, both intent on wiping the other out," she mused, remembering Jergal's words.

"Indeed, mortal. You know something of the Blood War?"

"I've... seen... some small fragment of it. Nothing more," she said, cursing herself for speaking so casually about something that, as far as most of the others were concerned, she should have no knowledge of.

"This place exploits the strife between demons and devils," Mephasm continued. "Great energy is created by the constant tension between opposites here, and that energy is harnessed to empower the Master of this place."

"I thought this place was supposed to be a retreat for a court wizard?"

"Whatever it may have been before, it has been transformed into this... prison. If you ever wish to leave this place, you must get into the laboratory which lies at the centre of this area. You see the portal in the corner?" He indicated a tall, circular structure. "It allows me to summon servants from my home plane, should I wish it. The others have similar portals in their rooms. It is possible for me to subvert the portal's power, to allow it to do other things... like take you into the laboratory. But my power alone isn't enough. You must convince three others to help you. That will be no easy task, as the other fiends here may attempt to thwart or manipulate you."

"So how can I convince them to help?"

"There is no simple answer to your question. The other fiends here will be... reluctant to help you, unless it serves their interests. But you are in a unique position - you may roam these halls with relative freedom, while they are trapped. Putting one fiend in a compromising position may convince another to help you. I've done what I can. Go quickly, and be on your guard."

There was only one other door in the room, so Kail led the others towards it, and they stepped into a stone corridor. As she had hoped, the air inside the haven was colder... quite a bit colder. She took her cloak from her pack and fastened it around her shoulders, then rubbed her hands together to generate a little heat. Still, the chill was blessed after the unnatural heat of the surrounding land.

"Be on guard for these... 'minions' that Mephasm spoke of. They probably won't take too kindly to intruders. And keep a look out for Shandra. And for anything relating to githyanki swords."

"What, you mean like a big sign that says 'Here's my research on Silver Swords, feel free to have a poke around'?" said Bishop.

"Yes, that sort of thing."

"I _do_ hope Shandra's all right," said Grobnar worriedly. "I hate to think of her being alone somewhere in this place, with all these demons."

"Don't worry, Grobnar. We'll find her. We don't leave our friends behind," she said, patting his shoulder reasurringly.

"Looks like we're going through here," said Neeshka, opening a door. There was nowhere else for them to go, so the tiefling stepped through, with Kail right behind her. And as she stopped dead in her tracks, Kail peered over her shoulder, and looked at the huge, winged fiend that was caged inside a summoning circle just like Mephasm's.

"It steps forward to let me see it more clearly," said the creature in a deep, rumbling voice.

"A balor demon," Neeshka whispered to her as they allowed everyone else to pass into the room. "Be careful... one wrong answer and we won't get to ask another question. Just stay calm, and don't let him get to you."

"What is this thin-blooded thing I hear, its flesh reeking with the stench of the baatezu?" asked the demon, sniffing in Neeshka's direction. "Is it female? It must be -- it is too weak to be otherwise."

"Weak?" Neeshka spluttered. "Weak? That's a laugh, saying that while I'm out here and you're trapped inside that summoning circle, you half-witted tanar'ri hindlicker!"

"Oh my," said Grobnar. "I wasn't aware that Neeshka knew such language!"

"Oh, hells," said Khelgar.

"Next time, I would ask we leave the more impulsive members of our group outside when we enter demon-caged labyrinths of death," said Sand, dry as ever.

"It thinks bold words make it superior?" said the balor. "It is a small drop of evil, a random and hissing bloodfly only... weak as a baatezu, weaker as a female."

"And how did _you_ get here?" asked Neeshka, apparently not finished with the fiend. "Did they lure you in with the promise of a dozen goblets of blood on a silver platter of horse entrails? If so, I hope that circle fits you night and tight, you bone-gnawing, ichor-drinking glutton!"

"My friend has a point, tanar'ri," said Kail.

"So there!" said Neeshka, sticking out her tongue at it. "Thinking you can be mean and yell at me about being weak, when you can't do anything but talk. Hmmph!"

"The half-breed, it is obvious, but it who orders the half-breed... It has a pip-squeaky voice, so much like a female, but also like many of the lesser mortal races. Is it female?"

"Is what female?" she asked, though she knew full well that 'it' referred to her.

"It must be very dumb not to know if it is a female. I will trust that it is not female, despite its frail appearance and shrill voice. Why does it come before me?"

"I need your help opening the portal so I can get into the laboratory."

"What it asks is not simple. It entreats me to use my power, weakening my position, and the female devil Hezebel will gain the advantage. Hezebel must obviously be weakened before I agree to its request. This preserves the balance."

"Who's Hezebel?"

"Hezebel is the fickle female who sends her erinyes to torment me with their shrill, taunting voces and their sickly sweet stench."

"And if I get rid of these erinyes, you'll open the portal for me?"

"Yes. I will open the path, that it may go forth and exercise my will in such things."

"Right you are. Back when the erinyes are dead," she said, leading her companions past the tanar'ri, but keeping well out of its reach.

"My lady, we're not truly going to partake in this war, only to satisfy this demon's lust for blood, are we?" asked Casavir.

"Of course not. That thing's a tanar'ri. It probably wouldn't keep its word anyway. Right, Zhjaeve?"

"That is right, Kalach-Cha."

"I don't understand... devils, demons... they are all creatures of evil," said Elanee. "What is the difference, and why would one group keep their word rather than another?"

"Do you want to explain, Zhjaeve?" she asked.

"I believe that you have the knowing, Kalach-Cha. And that you could explain it faster than I. I have heard it said around Crossroad Keep that my method of speaking is pondering, methodical. Know that where brief explanations are required, your own methods are best."

"To make it short, demons, such as tanar'ri, of which balors like that fellow are just one type, inhabit the infinite layers of the Abyss. They are chaotic beings who thrive on the suffering of others. The strongest rule, though their power is frequently challenged by lesser demons. On the other hand, devils, such as the baatezu, of which pit fiends are one type, inhabit the Nine Hells, otherwise known as Baator. They are lawful beings who believe in a structured approach to ruling... they make plots, and pacts, and they usually keep their word, unless they can find a lawful way out of it. The two sides have been waging the Blood War against each other since the beginning of time... law versus chaos, yet both evil. We can expect most of the baatezu here, like Mephasm, to keep their word, unless they can find a legal way out of it. Some of the tanari'ri may also keep an agreement we make with them, but only if it amuses or suits them to do so."

"My, that is a rather condensed but accurate version of things," said Grobnar appreciatively. "How did you come to know so much about devils and demons?"

"It was one of Lucas' favourite subjects," she smiled. "He said he wanted to travel the Planes, one day. See everything that's out there. He told me about the Inner Planes, as well as the Outer, but none of that is really relevant here."

"It looks like we have company," said Sand, peering down the corridor at a winged woman.

"Hold, sister," said the erinyes, addressing her directly. "You have nothing to fear from us. Our mistress would speak with you."

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," said Elanee.

"You worry too much. These fiends are caged, and pose little danger to us as long as we do not make too many bargains with them."

"Sometimes, I think you don't worry enough."

"Lead on," she told the erinyes, choosing to ignore Elanee's statement. She worried more than she wanted to admit... though her worrying was aimed internally, rather than externally. Why worry about what demons could you to your body, when you had your own demon gnawing at your soul?

"A wise choice. Follow me," said the erinyes, and led them into another room not unlike the first two. Inside this summoning circle was a dark-haired, pale-skinned she-devil with white feathery wings.

"My sisters, what have you brought me? A diversion?" asked the devil with a cold, calculating gleam in her eye.

"Mortal trespassers, dearest Hezebel. They come from Baalbisan."

"So, Baalbisan has enlisted a lesser species to do his bidding. Tell me, what task did he set for you?"

"He wanted me to kill your sisters in exchange for his help in opening the portal to the laboratory," said Kail, deciding that honestly was the best route.

"Interesting... and what do you intend to do?"

"I'm going to wait and see if you have a better offer, of course," she smiled.

"Very wise of you. I happen to know just the thing... I have heard that when you upset Baalbisan, really infuriate him, he will blurt out the True Name of his abyssal matron, like it is a curse. I would know this name. You will discover it for me."

"You want me to find out the True Name of his mother? Why?"

"For power. Why else?" said Hezebel, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. "The demon hides a little secret, one he thinks he has escaped. I happen to know otherwise. Helping me can have its rewards. In the near term, if you are able to discover Baalbisan's secret, I will agree to help you gain access to the laboratory, as a sign of... my affection."

"A favour for a favour, then."

"Excellent. You've made the right choice, mortal."

"I hope so," she said, and led her friends deeper into the haven.

o - o - o - o - o

"You. You! Zaxis can't guess how you got in here," said the huge hezrou demon that was stood inside the summoning circle in the fourth room.

"Wait... is this the dumb thug you encountered in the githyanki caves?" Neeshka grinned.

"How dare you speak to Zaxis that way! Zaxis will smear you into a bloody paste with his hands, he will tear y--"

"Look, as amusing as your whole 'Zaxis this' and 'Zaxis that' thing is, that's not the proper way you should talk to people. I mean, by the gods, are you some kind of dimwit? Referring to yourself when you speak... it's a sign that you're really losing it."

"Might want to listen to her, Zaxis. She has a point," agreed Kail. It seemed that little would stop Neeshka from taunting the demons, so she might as well go along with it.

"Yeah! Hear that? She didn't even use her name once when she talked to me," Neeshka grinned.

"You just wait. The Master will come and crush you, then give your remains to Zaxis to feed on."

"You would let your Master carry out your threats?" Kail asked. Whoever this 'Master' was, she needed to find out as much about him as possible. Maybe she could pry some information from some of the devils or demons trapped here.

"Were Zaxis not trapped here, Zaxis would soon be tasting the strips of your flesh in the bowels of the Abyss."

"Unlikely. However, you _will_ be opening the door to the laboratory for me."

"What? You want Zaxis to help you? Why in the steaming hells would Zaxis ever help you?"

"In exchange for your freedom."

"You cannot free Zaxis. Only the Master has that power, and he will destroy you when he arrives. He will let you run, but when he grows bored of you, he will crush you beneath his heel. But Zaxis doesn't want to wait for Master..."

There was the sound of energy pulsing through the doorway opposite Zaxis, and two hezrou demons shambled through, into the room. Everybody leapt into action; Casavir and Khelgar immediately closed on one of the demons each. Qara and Sand began casting spells, while Zhjaeve and Elanee helped to distract the demons and keep them from crushing Casavir and Khelgar with their huge claws. Neeshka and Bishop were cautiously firing arrows, waiting for a clear spot before releasing their bowstrings, whilst Grobnar cast his own spells to help the others. Kail whipped out her daggers, chose one of the demons, and slashed at its legs. The creature's skin was so thick that it took her several attempts to cut through it, and when she finally did, severing the tendons in its leg, it fell forward, narrowly missing landing on Khelgar. The dwarf jumped onto the downed demon's back, and with one mighty stroke of his axe, severed the creature's spinal cord.

The second demon seemed to have learnt from its companion's mistake; it stood with its back to the wall, so that nobody could hamstring it from behind. But such an action would only keep the creature safe for so long. Surrounded by a pack of smaller, yet more intelligent, creatures, its fate was sealed.

"I Banish you from this plane!" Zhjaeve shouted. A wave of light shot out from her, washing over everything in the room. The demon began to rip apart, its body seemingly torn by Zhjaeve's spell, and it vanished into nothingness. And so did the corpse of the demon that Khelgar had decapitated.

"Neat spell," said Neeshka. "But why didn't it affect him?" She indicated Zaxis, who was stood in his summoning circle affecting to ignore them.

"Know that whatever power binds Zaxis and the other fiends here, is far too strong for me to undo. It would appear that Mephasm spoke true, about that much at least."

"If Mephasm was being honest, then that makes it all the more urgent for us to reach the laboratory of the man they call 'Master'," said Kail, shaking the blood from her daggers before sheathing them. "We need to find Shandra, and destroy this wizard's power before he harms anybody else. But I don't think we'll get any help from Zaxis. Come on, let's find out what's in the next room... and hope that the next demon we come across will be more amenable."

o - o - o - o - o

Shandra looked at the succubus in front of her. Another female demon had told her that she could teleport around this place just by thinking it, and when she had tried it, she had ended up here. Now, this demon was telling her things too... things which she found hard to believe.

"So, let me go over this one more time," she said, just to be sure she hadn't missed anything. "I can talk to my friends just by _thinking_ the words?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" said the succubus. "Go on, give it a try. Just be sure not to lose your concentration."

"Well... alright," she said hesitantly. "But no tricks from you!"

"Tricks? My dear, I am bound tightly by this circle," said the demon, her pale lips drawing into a smile.

She closed her eyes, and tried to imagine Kail. An image of the bard popped into her head... the bard as she had been when they first met, rather than the way she looked now. Back then, Kail had seemed young, and a little wide-eyed. Now her face seemed perpetually haunted, as if she had seen things that nobody should ever have to see. Her short hair and the scars on her arms were a testament to just how low somebody could go if you took away everything that they had.

"_Kail? Kail? Can you hear me?_" she thought.

"_Shandra?_" came a disbelieving voice, which echoed inside her head.

"_Oh Kail, I'm so glad you're safe. I've been worried sick. Is everybody else with you? Are they all okay?_"

"_Yes, everybody is here, and we're all fine. How are you? Are you safe?_"

"_Safe enough. This place is tuned to my blood. I can teleport around it, and speak to you just by thinking about it. I'm going to try to find you... where are you now?_"

"_I don't know. We're in a room, off the side of a corridor. But don't come to us, or you might appear in the middle of a battle. Not everybody here is welcoming._" The other woman's tone was wry. "_Try to get yourself to a devil named Mephasm... You can trust him about as much as you can trust anything in this place. Once you find him, stay there, and we'll come back for you soon._"

"_Kail, these demons... they say that their lord is unbeatable._"

"_Unbeatable?_" asked Kail, and she detected a note of worry in the woman's voice.

"_That's what they say, but... be careful. I don't think they were lying about this._"

"_You be careful too. I can't talk now, we just found another devil._"

"_Okay. I'll be in touch soon._"

She broke the mental contact, and turned her attention back to her own problems. For now, Kail and the others would have to take care of themselves. She had a devil to find.

o - o - o - o - o

Kail stared at the huge fiend which was stood inside one of the familiar summoning circles. The creature was wreathed in flame that did not burn it, and its bat-like wings were folded around its body. Its long teeth dripped with venom, and its hands and feet ended with long talons. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, using the wall to steady herself.

"Are you alright?" asked Neeshka quietly, laying a hand on her arm.

"I'm fine," she lied. In truth, the devils and demons of this place were having some effect on her. Although some, like Zaxis and Mephasm, produced no reaction, some of the others seemed to make the Bhaalspawn taint within her become more... alive. She could sense the evilness of the creatures, and part of her wanted to take that same evilness, the strength and the power that came with it, and use it as her own, to wrap it around herself and lose herself in it. The effect was multiplied tenfold in the presence of this creature. The feeling of power and evilness from it almost overwhelmed her.

"Visitors?" said the devil, catching sight of them. "A rare occurrence indeed, these days."

"It's a pit fiend," whispered Neeshka. "I can never figure these guys out... they're always plotting something."

"I'm just glad it's in that circle... and it looks to be well-drawn, too," said Sand. "Whoever set these up was no court wizard."

"What an exquisite pair of little mortals," said the devil, indicating she and Neeshka together. "A true shame I am bound, or I could have shown you what you are both capable of."

"We don't want anything from you," said Neeshka defensively.

"And your friend? Does this little one speak for you also, mortal?"

"Yes," said Kail without hesitation.

"A pity. If you change your mind, mortal, Koraboros is at your service," the devil purred in its rumbling voice.

"My lady, I do not like the way this devil is looking at you," said Casavir quietly.

"Don't worry about it. It's just trying to upset us, to force us to bargain with it. It's what they do," she assured him, before turning to address the devil. "What do you know about the Master?"

"Powerful, ruthless, unstoppable," said Koraboros, tallying off each point on a long talon. "He looks human, but I suspect he's much, much more. That is all I will say about him."

"We need to get into his laboratory. Will you help by opening your portal?"

"Ah. A plot to strike at the Master, is it? Bold. Suicidal, but bold. I can help you in your endeavour, but as I'm sure you expected, I will require something from you first. My terms are not negotiable."

"Let me guess - you want me to work against one of the other fiends here."

"Not directly, no. This is a more... personal matter. There is an imp who serves as my eyes and ears in this place. I've not seen him for some time, and I want you to locate him and see that he is able to return to me."

"What if he's dead?"

"He lives, that much I know, for I can still feel his presence. It's faint, distant, so I suspect he's trapped somewhere in the haven."

"Okay, you have a deal."

"Splendid. I await your return eagerly, little mortal."

Kail led the way to the next corridor, and they found a set of rooms leading off from it. Not wanting to risk anybody by splitting them up, she kept everybody with her as they explored what appeared to be nothing but store-rooms. Inside one of them, was an imp, staring into space. When she edged closer, she realised it wasn't space that the imp was staring into, but a book shelf.

"I say, he doesn't seem very responsive, does he?" said Grobnar, waving his hand in front of the imp's vacant face. The small creature completely ignored him, doing nothing other than flapping its wings to remain aloft.

"It's probably under a spell of some sorts," said Sand. "I could try to dispel it, if you like?"

She nodded, and everybody stood back as Sand cast his spell on the imp. When nothing happened he frowned, and tried again. After the third attempt there was still no change, and the elf was looking extremely perplexed.

"We have seen before that our magic sometimes has no effect on the spells cast by this sorcerer. Perhaps what has been done here can only be undone by him," said Zhjaeve.

"Look at this," said Neeshka, picking up an open book that was sitting on the shelf. "The imp is staring right at it. I can't read a word of what it says, though."

Kail took the book from her, and examined the words on the page. There were seven short sentences written in some unfamiliar script. As she was frowning at it, Sand peered over her shoulder.

"It reminds me a little of the draconic language in that book you lent me," she told him. "But there's some obvious differences."

"Yes, it's most likely a type of fiendish language. A pity... if it was draconic, you could probably understand it."

"Know that I can translate these words," said Zhjaeve from over her other shoulder.

"Great! What do they say?"

"In order, they translate to: Focus, Freedom, Imprison, Loyalty, Clarity, Mercy, Invigoration."

"What a fascinating language," said Grobnar, peering at the book from Kail's waist-height. "I wonder how you pronounce the words for 'Clarity'. Looks like... _Verba Ne Kun._"

As soon as Grobnar finished speaking the words, Kail's vision went dark. She automatically crouched where she stood, lowering her centre of gravity so that it would be harder for her to be knocked over. Cries of alarm told her that she was not the only one to lose her vision.

"Grobnar!" Khelgar cursed.

"Someone's touching me! Who's touching me?!" said Qara.

"Gods, did you _have_ to do that, Grobnar?" said Sand.

"Know that I find this darkness quite disturbing," said Zhaeve.

"Everybody, be quiet and let me think," said Kail, trying to order her thoughts. When everybody stopped talking, she found that her hearing was sharper. She could hear her companions breathing, some quickly, some slowly. She could hear the beating of the imp's wings, just in front of her, and the distant sounds of fighting. No doubt some of the demons and devils at it again.

Grobnar had spoken the words for 'clarity'... and instead of everything becoming clearer, it had become darker. So maybe these spells worked in opposite ways. Perhaps in reverse. If so, then any spell that had a positive sound, would bring about a negative action. By that logic, the only words which didn't sound inherently 'positive' where Focus, Imprison and Invigoration. The first and the last sounded more neutral, than anything. Which left 'imprison'.

But... if she was wrong, then they might all end up _being_ imprisoned, or perhaps in a similar vacant state to the imp. And if that happened, they would be helpless, completely at the mercy of the wizard who had summoned the fiends, if he was to show up. But she had to do something, before people started panicking. She brought up the mental image of the book, and the words on the page. This sort of mental recollection was something that Lucas had taught her; images were easier to remember than words. If you could memorise the image of a page, as it was exactly, you could read off the words without having to remember them.

"_Tilo Ut Lon!_" she said. Her skin began to tingle, and her vision cleared. In front of her, the imp shook its head as confusion left its mind.

"Free! Thanks! Going away now. Must find more secrets!" said the imp. It zipped out of the room, no doubt returning to its master.

"I'm going to kill you," said Qara, advancing towards Grobnar.

"Oh, lighten up, Qara. There's no harm done," said Kail.

"No harm? I was _blind_!"

"Too bad you weren't mute, too," said Sand.

"Come on, we've still got one more demon to convince to help us," said Kail, heading up yet another corridor in the maze-like haven.

o - o - o - o - o

The demon in the last room was protected by several succubi. Kail found them even less endearing than the erinyes, and when the succubi attacked without warning, she was more than happy to give the order to kill them. Rather than being upset about the death of her followers, however, the succubus within the summoning circle - Mephasm had called her 'Blooden' - merely smiled and watched them cautiously approach.

"Well done, you have earned an audience with me," said Blooden appreciatively.

"Watch out she's a succubus... they bore easily," Neeshka whispered. "And the things that amuse them... well, we don't want to go there, trust me. Or at least, I don't."

"You know I'm getting the strangest tingling sensation just looking at her," said Grobnar, his eyes almost hypnotically focused on the succubus.

"You may wish to stand back... if this is truly a succubus, no one is better equipped to deal with her charms than I," said Sand.

"You're right, Sand. You don't have a soul anyway," scoffed Qara.

"Please, speak... and do keep it interesting, hmm?" said Blooden.

"You don't seem upset that I killed your servants," Kail pointed out.

"They are fodder. I surround myself with them for amusement. But oh, how I long for more masculine company. You're a female of your species. Did you... did you bring any males? Why yes, you did. In all shapes and sizes. Short, tall, big, small, dark, light... how is a woman to choose between so many pets?"

"They're not for you."

"Come now, is it too much to ask you to share?"

"Now that you mention it, yes it is."

"Then allow _me_ to share with _you_. Servants!"

The portal in the corner of the room began to glow and hum, and several more succubi appeared inside it. As she drew her daggers and advanced, Kail found herself beginning to _loathe_ demons. They were so petty and arrogant... much like 'mortals', really.

"Oh yes, that was so exciting," said Blooden as the last of her minions fell. "Nearly as enthralling as when Koraboros sends his hellhounds raiding. I have no idea why he stopped attacking me. I would ask him myself, but I'm trapped in this circle, and his hounds kill my messengers on sight."

"My heart bleeds for you," said Kail sarcastically.

"Why don't you go and see Koraboros and convince him to send another pack of his hounds against me?"

"I might... if you're willing to open your portal to the laboratory in return."

"Very well, mortal. You have a deal."

"I dont like this," said Casavir. "Dealing with their kind always carries a price."

" I don't like it any more than you do, but we have more important things to worry about," Kail told him, leading the group out of the room. "Negotiating with one is as bad as negotiating with another, but we have to find Shandra, and get to this wizard's laboratory. I _need_ the information that may be contained within it."

"As long as we are on our guard. But you are right, there are greater matters at stake."

o - o - o - o - o

"My servant, have you found him?" Koraboros asked when Kail returned with her friends to his room.

"Yes, I freed him. He read the wrong phrase in a book he found and was imprisoned."

"Interesting. Will you show me these phrases?"

"Yes, here," she said, taking the book from her pack. She had brought it along because she wanted to learn something of the language. It looked vaguely similar to draconic, and she wanted to check it against her own book which was back at the Keep.

"Fascinating." He thumbed through the book, which was dwarfed by his over-sized taloned hands. For some reason, the fire that wreathed his body wasn't burning the pages. "You would do well to hold onto that. You may find one of its phrases... of use, shall we say?"

"Which phrase?"

"I'll let you figure it out yourself. The Master would not be pleased with me if I instructed you in the use of such a valuable tool."

"Thanks for the advice. Now, the portal?"

"Very well. You have no idea just how much you've helped me. As we agreed, I will help you to open the portal to the laboratory."

"If you _really_ wanted to show how grateful you are, you could send some of your hellhounds to fight against Blooden's succubi."

"And why would I do that? It would weaken my position, leave me open to attack from both Blooden and Zaxis."

"Succubi are weak, and with my help your hellhounds won't have a problem."

"Very well, mortal. You make an interesting argument. I will send my hounds, and you will lead them to victory. But do not underestimate Blooden. She is treacherous."

"Of course. She is a demon, after all."

From the portal on the other side of the room, Koraboros summoned several large Nessian War Hounds, which loped off towards Blooden's room at his request.

"Are we really going to help the hounds fight against the succubi?" Casavir asked her quietly. "It seems to me that Blooden cares little for which side wins... all she wants is entertainment. There is no need to risk ourselves in this conflict."

"I said I'd help them, and I will. I won't break my word, even to a devil," she chastised him. "You can stay here where it's safe, if you want."

"I said I would aid you, and I will," he replied, gripping the handle of his weapon firmly.

"Then let's go. The sooner we're done with these fiends, the happier I'll be."

o - o - o - o - o

"You have made me so very happy," said Blooden, clapping her taloned hands gleefully as she surveyed the succubus and hellhound corpses that littered the floor, their blood forming red puddles on the cold marble.

"I'm _so_ glad to hear that," Kail panted as she sheathed her daggers,

"I am not normally one to honour non-binding contracts, or any contracts, really - but since you have so entertained me, I am feeling generous. You have my help - this time. One last thing... you could bring me much pleasure by tormenting the hezrou imprisoned here. I will gladly provide you with her True Name."

"Wait, you mean Zaxis?" asked Neeshka. "He's a she?"

"Indeed! She used to be a maralith, but she just wasn't...cut out for it. Just look at her progeny, that pathetic balor Baalbisan. Her true name is Bethshiva. Have fun with it, mortal."

"Well what do you know," Neeshka grinned as Kail led the way out of the room. "Zaxis is a 'she', and Baalbisan's mother to boot. I'm going to have some _fun_ with this True Name thing!"

"More importantly, we can force Zaxis to open the portal in her room for us," said Elanee.

"Right, right, of course," Neeshka waved dismissively.

"Oh, I _do_ hope Shandra is alright. This isn't a very safe place for a person to be alone," said Grobnar.

"The farm-girl isn't completely defenceless, gnome," said Bishop. "She can always nag the devils and demons to death."

"You should not make light of the situation, Bishop," Casavir admonished. "For all we know, Shandra could be in very real trouble."

"Huh, trapped in a wizard's deathtrap with a bunch of imprisoned devils and demons... I'd say we're _all_ in real trouble, lad," said Khelgar.

Kail let her friends' banter wash over her as she led them back towards Mephasm's room. It seemed increasingly unlikely that she would find anything relating to githyanki silver swords in this place. No doubt the wizard who had taken over the Haven after Ammon Jerro's death had hidden or destroyed all of its' former occupant's information. Knowledge about Silver Swords was nothing something that you left around for just anybody to find.

She stopped inside Zaxis' room, and looked up at the huge demon which was trying to ignore her. On a whim, she approached the demon and kicked its leg to get its attention.

"Zaxis' minions are beaten, and Zaxis will waste no more time on you," it said, turning its back to her.

"I invoke your True Name - Bethshiva."

"No!" the demon gasped, its eyes wide in horror. "How could you have learned Zaxis' true name? How can Zaxis serve you... Master?"

"What is the name of the one who bound you here?"

"Zaxis does not know. Think, Master! Would Zaxis be trapped here if he did?"

"Kail," said Neeshka, approaching to whisper something in ear. She grinned as she faced Zaxis again.

"I command you to stop referring to yourself in the third person," she ordered.

"Finally!" Neeshka grinned.

"Zaxis... does not understand. Who is this 'third person'?" asked the demon, its face a bewildered mask of confusion.

"Oh well. I command you to help open the portal."

"Yes, Zaxis will do this. Master may watch if she likes, to be certain Zaxis does it right."

Energy began to build up in the portal in the corner of the room. Conscious of what had happened the last time Zaxis' gate had opened up, Kail ran her hands over her daggers, ready to draw them at a moment's notice. But no hezrou demons emerged this time; instead, a dark, hazy image of a room appeared in the portal.

"At last, we can finally get this over with," said Bishop.

"Not just yet. There's one more thing I'd like to do."

o - o - o - o - o

"You return," said Hazebel, her cold eyes shining appreciatively. "Do you have the name for me?"

"The True Name of Baalbisan's mother is Bethshiva. Have fun with it," said Kail.

"Hmm... interesting. That is rather short, for a True Name."

"Are they supposed to be longer?"

"True Names are supposed to be very long for beings of great power, as I would have thought a balor's matron would be. Perhaps that is Baalbisan's great secret.... that his mother is a lesser fiend. You have supplied the information I requested, so I will fulfill my end of the agreement. I shall assist you in your quest to enter the laboratory, though you better hurry... the Master could return at any moment."

"We're not staying any longer than necessary," she assured the demon.

"Goodbye, my sweetling. You've been such a pleasant diversion."

Kail stepped towards the portal, and ran her fingers over its rippling surface. All she could see on the other side was darkness; not a reassuring sight, in this place. Habit forced her to take a deep breath before taking a step forward, and she felt her skin break into goosebumps as the portal transported her somewhere else.

The darkness was not as pervasive on the other side of the portal. By the dim light, Kail was able to make out tables and workbenches, and the strange, esoteric symbols etched onto the floor and walls, glowing faintly, almost pulsing like a heartbeat.

Behind her, her friends were also passing through the portal, spreading out to make room for those coming behind them. Khelgar, with his excellent dark-vision, was the first to move across the room, and before long everybody's eyes began to adapt, and they stepped away from the portal to follow the dwarf.

There was a sudden loud wailing sound, and they covered their ears; Sand and Elanee winced in pain as the sound assaulted their more sensitive elven hearing.

"My, that sound sure is pervasive," Grobnar shouted. "And with such a high tempo, too. But I don't quite recognise the tune." As he finished speaking, the sound stopped, and everybody straightened, uncovering their ears and looking around in confusion.

"Ah, that would be the alarm... no doubt warning the inhabitants that there are intruders that need to be violently dispatched," said Sand.

Before his sentence was even finished, a portal appeared in the centre of the room, and out of it stepped a tall human man. An aura of magical energy crackled around him as he glared angrily at Kail and her companions. It was the same man she had seen in the githyanki complex, the same man from the Moonstone Mask. This was the 'Master' of Jerro's Haven, and he didn't looked very pleased to see trespassers.

"Intruders..." he growled angrily. "Unbidden and unwelcome. Are you prepared to pay the price?"

"It's time to answer for your crimes," she countered. She would exact her own, truer form of justice on this man who had killed at least Melia, and possibly the whole of West Harbor.

"You." He narrowed his eyes at her, recognising her for the first time. "How you entered this place is a mystery, but it is a mistake... one which will soon be..." he paused to look more closely at her. "Why, you have brought gifts. You carry the shards... and one is even lodged inside you. Interesting. Let me take them off your corpse... and from your corpse."

The man raised his arms and a bright light flooded the entire room. Kail jumped to one side just in time to avoid a barrage of magical missiles, and her friends jumped into action. Khelgar and Casavir rushed forward as Sand and Qara began hurling their own magic at the mysterious mage. Elanee had begun to shift into the form of a wolf, and Zhjaeve was casting defensive spells, trying to anticipate where their opponent would strike next. Neeshka and Bishop had taken to the shadows, out of sight of the mage, out of range of his magic. Meanwhile, Grobnar was hastily rummaging through his pack, but what for, Kail had no idea.

Before Khelgar and Casavir could reach the mage, the ground began to shake. Kail was thrown violently from side to side, and during one particularly heavy shake of the floor, she was tossed against the wall, banging her head sharply against the heaving stone. Through her blurry vision, she realised that her friends weren't coping any better than she; Neeshka and Bishop were clinging to a wall, both Khelgar and Casavir were flat on their backs, Sand was desperately jumping around, trying to avoid being hit by flying apparatus, and everybody else was either prone on the ground or very nearly there.

Then, the quaking mercifully stopped, only to be replaced by another portal opening up in the middle of the room. As her companions hauled themselves to their feet, a demon stepped through the portal, glanced briefly around, then made a beeline straight towards Kail. Groaning, she leaned against the wall for support, and managed to climb to her feet.

"Concentrate on the wizard!" she yelled at Sand, Qara, Elanee and Zhjaeve. Against a spellcaster, there was little that she herself could do. Not being magically inclined, Khelgar and Casavir rushed to her aid, intercepting the demon before it could strike at her. Grobnar, meanwhile, helped her away from the violence, pulling a healing potion from his pocket. She tentatively touched the back of her head, and it came away sticky and wet. She winced, but knew that head wounds always bled a lot, even shallow ones. She gratefully downed the potion, and felt the flesh knitting itself back together.

"Might want t' get that crossbow out, lass," Khelgar grunted, ducking as the demon swiped at his head. Casavir stepped behind it, bringing his weapon down on the creature's side. Kail nudged Grobnar aside and made her way back to the fight, conscious of the fierce magical battle raging on the other side of the room as her friends fought to bring down the wizard's defences.

Getting a clear shot at the demon was difficult; it moved around a lot, chasing Khelgar and Casavir. Bishop and Neeshka were having the same problem; with so many bodies in such a confined area, their arrows were rendered effectively useless.

An opportunity presented itself when the demon aimed a deadly strike at Casavir. Khelgar threw himself at the paladin, and they both went flying to the floor, landing in an ungainly heap. The demon, bereft of its target, took a step forward, and Kail pulled the trigger on the RAMP. At the same time, Neeshka, Bishop and Grobnar released a volley of arrows and bolts, and the demon was skewered by missiles from every direction. Before it could move again, Kail rushed forward and thrust one of her daggers into the demon's soft abdomen, gripping the weapon handle with both hands as she eviscerated the creature. Blood poured onto the floor, and her foot slipped in a pool of redness. She fell, landing under the creature which began to topple forwards, right above her.

Before she could react, she was pulled by her ankle out of the demon's path, and she glanced up gratefully at Khelgar as the demon landed heavily where she had been lying. On the brink of opening her mouth to thank him, she was interrupted by a cry of pain from the other side of the room, and turned her attention to the main fight. The barrage of magical energy had ceased; the mage was knelt supporting himself on one knee, surrounded by Qara, Sand, Zhjaeve and Elanee, the latter back in human form after a failed attempt at shape-shifting.

"You... you think you have won?" the mage gasped. "You are fools. The haven... it is the source of my power..."

"This feels wrong," said Elanee. "Even within this place, this sorcerer does not feel like our adversary."

"This one has been defeated, but know it is not the King of Shadows," Zhjaeve confirmed. The mage, meanwhile, had hauled himself to his feet, and before anybody could react, a glow of magical energy sprang up around him.

"You and your allies are stronger than I anticipated," he said, with none of his former weariness in his voice. "But I will bear these indignities no longer. This entire sanctuary is my weapon. All who are trapped here fuel my power. I can harness of energies of this place, bind them to me. I can summon flame from the walls, turn the air in your lungs to fire." He raised his arms as he spoke, and around them, flames sprang from the walls and the ground. Kail and her friends huddled together, trying desperately to back away from the flames that surrounded them. "And you... you are nothing more than leaves caught in a storm. Did you really think you could face me here and survive?" The flames disappeared, replaced by a downpour from the cloudless room. The wind picked up, and within seconds Kail was fighting to keep standing. Grobnar was already down, and Qara was clinging desperately to Casavir to prevent herself being blown away.

Desperately, Kail reached inside herself for strength and power, for the dragon fire which might be the only thing capable of harming the mage. But instead of power, she found a voice.

"_You can't beat him._" It was Shandra's voice, and she realised that the other woman had been screaming at her mentally for the past few minutes; but with her thoughts emerged in battle, her concentration focused elsewhere, Shandra had remained unheard. Until now. "_The only way to do it is to free the demons. They're granting all his power._"

"_Shandra?_" she asked, mentally querying her friend.

There's a way to stop him. But it's going to require some blood being spilt... mine."

"_Listen! We're not beaten yet, so just keep yourself safe!_" she said desperately. Whatever Shandra had in mind sounded dangerous.

"_There's no way I'm letting you die. Not after all we've been through._" Shandra's thoughts were firm and determined. Kail felt the other woman break the mental contact, and then there was silence. In a strange way, it felt like she was emptier, somehow.

"This is the end, for you," said the mage. He raised his hand, and magic energy rushed around the room, crackling around the mage, sizzling where it touched the magical shields surrounding Sand and Qara. "I will bury your bodies in the walls of this place, and leave you to... to..." He stopped, his eyes glassing over. Then he clutched his head in pain, his knuckles white with the pressure of his grip. "What... what have you done?! No!" The mage raised his arms, was surrounded by a white light, and then he was gone.

"Did any of you got tossed around like I did?" said Grobnar, picking himself up from the floor. "Wow! It felt just like the time I got swept up in that hurricane off the Sword Coast!"

"We need to track him down and kill him _now_. Never let a wounded mage escape," said Bishop, gesturing at the portal.

"I'm glad I'm not your enemy," said Sand drily.

"Kalach-cha, we must not let him escape," said Zhjaeve.

"Right. Everyone, into the portal," said Kail.

o - o - o - o - o

Shandra was lost. All of the corridors looked the same; dark walls and cold floors lit by dim blue lights which cast an eerie glow over everything they touched. It was also getting increasingly difficult for her to teleport around; her strength, her life force, was fading fast.

Looking down, she noticed the blood pooling around her feet, and forced herself to move forward, one step at a time. With each step she took she grew a little colder, a little weaker. But this was the only way. One of the demons had told her that her blood could free them, could weaken their Master, and so she had cut herself, deeply. A few drops would not be enough, here. A lot of blood was needed. Five of the demons were now free, she needed only to find and free the one Kail had called 'Mephasm', and then her friends would be safe. Then she could rest.

"What you have done is brave but foolish, Shandra Jerro," said a quiet voice from the far side of the room she had just entered. The demon inside the glowing summoning circle was blue of skin, and his eyes were yellow and reptilian. She made her way to his circle, letting her blood drip onto the floor. The circle glowed more brightly for an instant, then it vanished, and the invisible, magical bonds which held the devil in the mortal plane went with it.

"Is it... true?" she asked Mephasm as she sank to the floor. "What the other demons said about... about your master?"

"That our master and Ammon Jerro, your Grandfather, are one and the same? Yes. It is true," said Mephasm.

"Why... why is he doing this?" she asked. Before Mephasm could answer, there was a bright light on the opposite side of the room, and he was suddenly there; her grandfather. Her last surviving relative.

"Speak of the devil," said Mephasm.

"You, girl. You did this!" said her grandfather, pointing an accusatory finger at her.

"My friends... are they..." she gasped.

"Your friends live, but you will not. You destroyed my summoning circles. You set the deadliest creatures in the lower realms free. You have weakened me, and in so doing, you have earned death!" He raised his hands, and she felt magic ripping through her body, tearing away her life energy even as she bled out.

"I know, grandfather... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...." she said. A single tear blossomed in her eye, rolling down her cheek. Then she closed her eyes, and let the coldness overwhelm her.

o - o - o - o - o

"Grandfather? What is this?" Ammon Jerro asked Mephasm as he took a step towards the dead woman.

"It is truth, Ammon. And by such truths is one damned."

"I have no kin. All were killed in the war against the King of Shadows... it's not possible."

"Blood finds a way, Ammon. Always."

"You lie!" he hissed.

"You know only Jerro blood could have broken the circles in this haven... as her blood has now broken mine. There are laws, Jerro. And when one carries such laws too far, they will take you where I go now."

But Ammon did not hear Mephasm's parting words, nor did he see the devil disappear, unsummoned back to Baator. His eyes were fixed on the corpse of the woman on the floor, the way her straw-blonde hair framed her white face, dishevelled as it soaked up the blood which was pooling around her body.

Noise on the other side of the room caught his attention, and his head snapped towards the source of his disturbance, towards the event that was interrupting his sorrow and grief. It was the meddlers; the people who had thwarted him at the Githyanki caves in Luskan, who had attempted to stop him in the Moonstone Mask in Neverwinter, who had tromped through his haven and brought this ruin upon him. The people who, led by the woman with _his_ shards, had brought his granddaughter here to die.

Somebody short ran forwards, stopping short when he saw Shandra's lying silent on the floor. It was a gnome, he realised, and tears welled up in the little man's eyes when Shandra failed to respond.

"I'm sorry, but Shandra?" said the gnome, in a pleading tone of disbelieving desperation. "Shandra, please get up. You see, we've won, really. We've come all this way to save you, and we got here just in time... haven't we?"

"He... killed Shandra!" shouted a tiefling angrily. "Let's gut him!"

"His powers are weak. I say we take advantage of it," a red-haired young woman added.

"No... there is no telling what his death could do to his place," said an elven man. "Even with the demons gone, it is still tied to him."

"Turn and face me, Jerro, or you will die where you stand." The words were spoken by the young woman with the shard in her chest. Even as she took a step towards him, her hands flew to her daggers, as if they could help her. Still, he sensed power within her... within several of her friends, too.

"Kill me now and this place will collapse, and we will all die," he said truthfully. "In my blindness I have done a great wrong. Perhaps it is not too late to rectify it... and where one was lost, I still might save you all. Only of fraction of power remains in my haven, but it will be enough to take us from this place."

He called upon the last of his strength to channel the small amount of power which remained in the haven, woven into the very building materials of his retreat. As he took in more and more of the magical energy, the room began to shake as the entire haven started to become undone, its proverbial magical glue melted by his actions.

"Stop her!" a man shouted. He opened one eye a fraction, and saw somebody grab hold of the shard-bearer's wrist.

"No, I can still save her!" the young woman cried, pulling against the grip that held her as she tried to reach his grand-daughter's body. She pulled free but was tackled by another of her friends before she could take another step. Meanwhile, a tall githyanki woman was holding back the gnome, who was also trying to reach Shandra, oblivious to the fact that the haven was starting to fall down around him.

Ammon Jerro took one last look at his grand-daughter's body, and closed his eyes. He put all of his effort into creating one last teleportation spell. He heard the sounds of his haven crumbling around him, he heard the swearing of the shard-bearer as she fought against whoever held her back, and he heard the faint, lingering laughter of the devils and demons who had for so long powered his haven, and would now be searching for him in life, and waiting for him in death. But he did not open his eyes; not until he had teleported himself, the shard-bearer, and all of her friends, to a distant, quiet forest just on the outskirts of Crossroad Keep.


	74. Summoned

_74. Summoned_

"So Ammon Jerro wasn't dead, after all. Glad we made sure of that before running into his labyrinth of demons." Bishop was perched on top of a table, an untouched glass of ale beside him. Nobody had touched the alcohol that Sal had brought out for them, or the hot food that he had gone to great pains to cook.

Kail turned her gaze to the man stood in front of the fire staring into its flames as if hypnotised. It had been four hours since Ammon Jerro had teleported them to the forest outside of Crossroad Keep. From there, they had made their way straight to the inn, only sending one of the children to let Kana know that Kail had returned.

"Yes, he is alive. And he is much more powerful than the tales ever indicated," said Sand.

"More powerful than some wizard, anyway," Qara sniffed.

"Ah, so when he was flinging you around like a rag doll, you were simply playing along until you could strike? Brilliant, Qara."

"So what now? We imprison him? Throw him to the Watch?" asked Khelgar.

"Tell me you're joking. He'll send the entire District to the Abyss and then he'll come after us," Bishop scoffed.

"Justice must be served..." mused Casavir. "But I am not certain he would find justice within Neverwinter's walls."

"We could throw him off the Docks," Neeshka offered.

"I say we get what we need from him, then take care of him. No one needs to know," said Bishop. He took out a knife and turned it over in his hands for emphasis.

"He murdered Shandra, and he must answer for it. But we will not answer murder with murder," said Casavir firmly.

"I'm sorry, I still don't understand what went wrong..." said Grobnar sadly. He was sitting at the bar, ignoring most of the conversation. He didn't seem to believe what had happened, and Kail knew just how he felt. Shandra's death didn't feel real. But at the same time, she knew that her friend was dead, and she wanted to be left alone, to grieve. She didn't want to have to deal with everybody else's suggestions, with Ammon Jerro, with Crossroad Keep. "If only we'd had some way of getting to her in time..."

"There is no sense to be made of it, Grobnar," said Elanee gently, laying a delicate hand on the gnome's shoulder. "Now, we must simply accept it."

Neeshka stepped quietly to Kail's side, wrapping a long arm around her shoulders. It was a comforting gesture, and she gave Neeshka a weak smile of thanks.

"You know whatever you decide to do about him, I'll support you, right?"

"I know. I keep asking myself, 'What would Shandra say?' I just don't know what to do about him. I don't believe justice will be done in Neverwinter... after Ember, I don't believe justice exists in Neverwinter at all. It's a pointless concept, anyway. But I can't torture information out of him and then kill him, either. He knows too much, he's too valuable an ally to lose... plus he's Shandra's grand-father. I don't think she would wish him any harm."

"The will of Ammon Jerro is broken, and this makes him dangerous... but know it also makes him of use," Zhjaeve interrupted quietly.

"He killed Shandra, and he must answer for that."

"Know that Shandra killed herself in breaking the circles to save us. Ammon merely hastened that end. Among my people, what Shandra did is a thing of honour, and its consequences should be honoured as well. Know that Ammon is the enemy of the githyanki, and all he has done, he has done to fight the King of Shadows. It would be well for us to share words with him. If his knowing becomes ours, our strength increases. Speak to him, and see where his allegiances lie."

Kail nodded and, with Zjhaeve, crossed the floor to stand beside Ammon. The others continued their quiet conversations, mainly arguments, in the background.

"Why did you bring her to my haven?" Jerro asked without turning around. "Even though she was of my bloodline, you knew she did not have the strength to survive there."

"I knew nothing of the sort. Besides, you were supposed to be dead. We needed your research on the silver swords to fight the King of Shadows."

"I have only recently escaped my imprisonment in the Lower Planes..." he said, and for a moment, with the flames reflecting in his eyes, he looked angry. "Since then, I have fought to re-establish my stronghold and gather my forces... which you have ruined with your carelessness. As you know, the King of Shadows is growing in power as well. And the King of Shadows... he has won a victory against us this day without striking a blow."

"What do you know about the King of Shadows?" she asked, not yet ready to discuss Shandra.

"I have fought the King of Shadows before. As soon as I became aware of the threat he represented to Neverwinter, to the realms, I fought him. I have made... pacts.... I have studied him, tried to learn his weaknesses, and the extent of his power. And always, it has been a war with few victories. Surely you know of the Ritual of Purification... you should know that I have performed part of the Ritual myself already. Without it, we cannot strike at the King of Shadows, and the battle is lost before it begins."

"I am familiar with the Ritual to free him... but that doesn't seem be enough. How can we hurt him?"

"The King of Shaodws is no mortal creature, he is not human, more a force than anything else. But there is something that can harm him. Those shards you have... they are a part of the Sword of Gith. Once the King of Shadows was driven back by githyanki warriors wielding hundreds, maybe thousands of those blades. But the Sword of Gith is more than a simple Silver Sword. It can wound the King of Shadows, like it did once, long ago. A part of the blade got lodged in your chest, in the battle in West Harbor when you were a child. And whether you like it or not, you are now that weapon. The more shards you gather, the stronger that weapon becomes. Together, we can stop the King of Shadows, and we must."

"Together? You want to help us, after just almost killing us?"

"I have completed part of the Ritual of Purification. If you kill me, the battle is lost as soon as my heart stops beating. Without me, you cannot win. Whatever punishments you think I deserve, I will suffer a thousandfold... well beyond anything your small mind can imagine. But I will strike at the King of Shadows before I leave this plane. And you will have no stronger ally than I in this, both in knowledge and power."

"Very well."

"Then we must gather our forces against the King of Shadows. Even now, his presence is extending from the Mere of Dead Men. The High Road has become impassable. My scouts, now vanished, reported legions of shadows and undead stirring within the Mere, and a sphere of darkness expanding from the heart of the swamp, killing all life it touches. We cannot stop him alone. With my powers weakened, my demons are no longer bound to me... You will need an army to face him."

"Ah, Kail. I'd heard you were back, though Kana denied it." The voice was both familiar and unwelcome.

"Sir Nevalle," she replied. "I didn't expect you back from Neverwinter so soon."

"I come with dire news. As you haven't been here for the past week, you probably haven't heard; Fort Locke has fallen. Lord Nasher has summoned you, you are to report to Castle Never at once. I've been instructed to bring only you. Your companions are to wait here."

"Why? What's this all about?"

"The business of our Lord Nasher is his to say, not mine. You are expected to heed his wishes, not ask more questions. Lord Nasher's request cannot wait, and we will make haste to Castle Never. If not, this Keep will have a new Captain before morning."

"Alright," she said, sitting down on one of the chairs. "Kana can appraise your new Captain of everything that's been happening in and around the Keep and the surrounding lands. I will of course move my things out of the Captain's Suite, and at first light I'll inform the Greycloaks to expect a new commander. Anything else you'd like me to do to help facilitate the smooth transferral of command?" There was silence throughout the inn as everybody watched Sir Nevalle's reaction.

"I apologise. Lord Nasher would of course not replace you without good reason. I spoke in haste because there is little time for us to act. The fall of Fort Locke could be the start of a new offensive of the King of Shadows, and Lord Nasher has requested to speak to you urgently."

"Then we'll leave at first light, and not a moment sooner."

Nevalle nodded and left. Slowly, conversation returned to the room. Kail noticed Ammon watching her speculatively, but she ignored him. Instead, she said goodnight to her friends and made her way back to the her Suite in the Keep. She had some packing to do.

o - o - o - o - o

Kail lay back on her bed and closed her eyes. Beside the door of the room was a fully-stocked backpack and saddlebags for her horse. She'd managed to eat a hot meal that one of the cloaks had brought from the kitchen for her, and had spent a few minutes looking over the dragon book that Sand had provided her with many weeks ago.

Now, unable to concentrate on studying of any sort, she cast her mind back to the events of the day. She saw Shandra's still, cold body on the floor, over and over again. Even now, her friend's body was buried under the collapsed haven, alone and with nobody to send her off properly into the next life. It wasn't fair. Shandra deserved more than that. Casavir should not have stopped her from trying to get to her friend. She might not have been able to save Shandra's life, but at the very least she could have brought her body back for a proper burial.

A knock at the door disturbed her morbid thoughts, and she called for the knocker to enter. Neeshka popped her head around the door, then her body followed. She stepped silently and lithely across the room, and sat cross-legged in the chair beside the bed.

"I don't like you going off alone with Nevalle. I don't trust him. I think I should go with you."

"He's a knight. They're about as trustworthy as people get, Neeshka."

"Not always. Knights can fall, you know. What if Nasher doesn't want to see you at all? What if Nevalle is just jealous of all the attention you've been getting from Lord Nasher and he wants to get you somewhere secluded so he can make sure you don't stand in his way?"

"You do come up with the strangest ideas," Kail smiled.

"Hey, I'm just looking out for you. I mean, why else would Nevalle be so adamant about you going alone, and the rest of us staying here? Nasher can't dictate who comes and goes from this Keep. All Nevalle said was that you had to meet Nasher alone. He didn't say we couldn't go with you and wait for you in the Flagon."

"Thanks for the offer, Neeshka. I think I should go on my own, though. I need a break from everything, and from everybody. Don't get me wrong, I love having you around, but after everything that's happened these past couple of weeks... I just need some time to be alone and think things through."

"I know what you mean. I... I still can't believe that Shandra's gone. I mean... I _liked_ her. I don't normally like people."

"Is it my fault?" Kail asked, sitting up in bed. "Did I get her killed?"

"Totally _not_ your fault, not in the slightest."

"Bishop said something the other day. Or it might have been yesterday. I can't even remember what day it is... anyway, he said that death surrounds me, that it becomes me."

"Bishop talks out of his ass, at times."

"But what if this isn't one of those times? What if he's right? When I look at myself in the mirror, do you know what I see?"

"Somebody who gave herself a really bad haircut?"

"Apart from that," she smiled. "I see somebody who I don't like. I see somebody who has the blood of a dragon and the Lord of Murder running through their veins. Somebody who has a shard of a sword from an evil extra-planar people in her chest. I see somebody who has to make decisions that she doesn't like."

"By the end of this, you might have to make a lot more decisions that you don't like. I suppose that's what it comes down to, really. Will you give up your morals and your principles to combat the King of Shadows? Will you put the needs of the many above the needs of the few? I'm not sure those are the sorts of decisions you can make in advance. I think you have to take each situation, each dilemma, and deal with it separately. I mean, look at Ammon; he was willing to sacrifice stuff to get the job done. He was willing to make pacts with demons and kill Melia and Tymora knows who else, because to him the end justifies the means. On the other end of the spectrum you've got somebody like Casavir, who has decided in advance that he's going to save every single soul possible or die trying. There's just no flexibility with either of them. They're so stuck in their own ways that they can't choose the best method to deal with particular situations, and change is difficult for them. Me, I take each day as it comes and weigh up the pros and cons of any situation before making a decision about it."

"I think a little of that Helmite wisdom rubbed off on you," said Kail ruefully. "I am glad, though, that I have you around to knock sense into me. You seem to do it quite a lot. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Oh, you'd manage. You'd have to resort to prostitution in order to make as much money, mind you, but you'd get by."

"I wish I could be as sure about that as you. But... you really don't think I'm a bad person?"

"Of course not. Then again, I have eeeeevil demon blood inside me, so I'm hardly the best person to ask. But your.... situation... it has pros and cons. On the plus side, your dragon blood lets you create dragon fire..."

"...which usually ends up burning everything around me."

"And the shard in your chest means you are part of a weapon, albeit a currently broken weapn, and that you can strike at the King of Shadows..."

"...whereas if it wasn't in my chest the githyanki could simply have reclaimed all the pieces, reforged the sword, and been done with this whole King of Shadows business by now."

"I admit, the whole blood of Bhaal thing doesn't seem to have any pros right now, but it might come in useful in the future for something."

"...like if I ever want to try to resurrect the dead god of murder, or become the next one myself."

"You're a little too good at seeing the cons," said Neeshka. "But so far, I think you're doing fine. You've come from being a small backwater village bard, to Captain of a Keep. Yes, there have been problems on the way... Ember, Lorne, Garius, West Harbor... but all is not yet lost. The way I see it, as long as there's one person left living, we have a reason to keep fighting. Just don't let Nasher see your doubt. He'll eat you for breakfast if you let him. You have to seem confident, even if you're not."

Before Kail could reply she heard clinking out in the corridor, then somebody knocked on her door. She sighed, and Neeshka rolled her eyes.

"Come in, Casavir," she called.

"I'm sorry, I hope I'm not intruding," he said when he entered and spied Neeshka.

"Don't get your metal knickers in a twist, I was just leaving." The tiefling slipped from the chair and closed the door behind her. Casavir's eyes followed her disapprovingly.

"What's on your mind?" she asked.

"Shandra. I wanted to make sure you are not angry with me, for holding you back. I was not willing to see you killed. I'm sorry if that upsets you."

"I was angry," she admitted. "But it was anger borne of desperation and the feeling of impotence. I didn't want to lose anybody else, not after Ember, not after West Harbor. But I'm not angry any more. Not with you, anyway. With Ammon, maybe. With Nevalle, always."

"Thank you. I am also worried about the men. They were fond of Shandra, and she helped to train many of them. I fear her loss may upset them, and might even cause acts of retaliation against Ammon. Futile acts, I'm sure; they would probably be no match for a warlock of his power."

"You want to cover up his involvement?" she asked incredulously. _Lying_ was _very_ unpaladin-like.

"Not so much cover it up, but perhaps refrain from mentioning his true involvement. As Zhjaeve said, Shandra would have died from her injuries... Ammon merely hastened her end, though I do not excuse him for it. I believe that he must be punished, but that foolish attempts at retaliation will end with either Ammon wiping out most of the Greycloaks here, or one of the Greycloaks getting lucky and killing him. I believe that would be quite counter-productive to our efforts against the King of Shadows."

"Then I will place his safety in your hands while I am gone. Please make sure that no harm comes do him. No _deadly_ harm, at least."

"This was hardly what I had in mind..."

"And yet it is the decision I have made. I can't trust anybody else with this task."

"Very well," he acquised, and she felt a stab of guilt for manipulating him. She had quickly realised that once you conviced him that a task was only capable of being performed by him, that he was the only one trustworthy enough to carry it out, he would jump at the chance to help as if trying to prove himself worthy. "Is there anything else you would like me to do while you are away?"

"No, just continue to train the 'Cloaks. And ask Khelgar to help you."

"Of course. There is one more thing that I would like to do, though. With your permission, of course."

"What is it?" she asked cautiously.

"I would like to hold a memorial service for Shandra. The sooner the better, but I will wait for you to return from Neverwinter if you prefer."

"No... don't wait for me." She didn't know if she could stand to be present for such a public goodbye. "It would be better for the troops if you held it as soon as possible. The morning or evening after I'm gone... whichever time you prefer. I'll leave Kana in charge of everything else, so you don't need to worry about all the boring administrative stuff."

"Something to be grateful for, though I don't find it as tedious as most people would."

"I'll see you in the morning, then. It sounds like Nevalle means for us to be back in Neverwinter sooner rather than later, and I suspect I won't have much time for sleep."

"Sleep well, Kail," he said, and left her in peace. Her peace, however, was short lived. She had barely been alone with her thoughts for more than ten minutes before yet another knock sounded on her door.

"Come in," she called, sitting up again in her bed. The knock was unknown to her, and she didn't want to be caught almost-napping. When Sir Nevalle marched into her room and closed the door behind him, she felt genuine surprise. Then the look on his face turned her surprise to caution.

"We need to talk," he said.

"Why certainly Sir Nevalle, do come in and make yourself at home. Would you care for some refreshments? I am well, by the way, thank you for asking, I'm touched by your concern."

"A glib tongue may serve you well amongst your friends and underlings, but it does nothing for me" he warned.

"Oh, I am sorry. Please just wait a moment whilst I change my entire personality to better suit your desires."

"I managed to squeeze out of Sand that the man you brought back from your travels with you is Ammon Jerro, and that he is responsible for the murder of Lords Gentry and Dalen, the attempted murder of Lord Tavorick, and the murder of Melia, amongst many, many others."

"What of it?"

"I want to bring him back to Neverwinter with us."

"And here I thought we'd have our chance to travel alone and get to know each other a little better," she said, affecting a coy smile.

"Then I'm sorry to disappoint you."

"I'm not disappointed. You can't have Ammon Jerro."

"He is a killer and deserves to be brought to justice," said Nevalle, narrowing his eyes.

"What he deserves is out of the hands of you and I. He holds a vital piece of a ritual designed to unmake the King of Shadows, and his knowledge of our enemy, and that of the Sword of Gith that I need to reforge, is too valuable to lose."

"So a murderer should be allowed to walk free because he's an _important_ murderer?"

"No. I'm not saying that he shouldn't be punished... just that his punishment must be delayed for the greater good."

"And I suppose you have a better idea of what constitutes 'the greater good' than Lord Nasher or I."

"Quite frankly, I don't give a damn what you _or_ Lord Nasher consider to be 'the greater good'," she said, standing from her bed to face him. "I have made my decision. If you attempt to take Ammon Jerro, the King of Shadows will swiftly become the least of your problems. You will have to go through me to get to him, along with any of my friends and Greycloaks who choose to follow my lead. After we've dealt with the threat of the King of Shadows, you can have Jerro. Toss him to your courtly wolves for all I care. Until that point _my_ life is at risk, and I won't let you jeopardise the Sword Coast because of some misplaced sense of injustice."

"Lord Nasher will hear of your... dissension."

"I've no doubt that he will. But it is I, not Nasher, who is ruler of Crossroad Keep. If he wishes to replace me, he is free to do so. If he doesn't want to replace me, he will have to accept my decisions and realise that I'm not going to be some boot-licking yes-man. Now, is there anything else you want to talk about, or can I get a few hours sleep before we set off?"

"Have you ever considered ruling your own country?" Nevalle asked, paused halfway out of the door.

"What?" she asked, completely confused at the change in topic.

"I think you might be quite good at it. Just a thought."

Contrary to what she had told Nevalle, she did not undress and climb into bed when he left. Instead, she lay back, her head on the pillow, studying the ceiling above her. Master Veedle had wanted to put a four-poster bed in the suite. A bloody four-poster bed with a canopy! If Veedle had his way her suite would be all draped silk and satin and candle light. What was the point? She spent her time either sleeping on the ground or in her uncle's small, uncomfortable beds in the Flagon. A soft bed with posters and a canopy would just make her soft, and she couldn't afford to be soft. She couldn't afford to have this room a luxurious place that she didn't want to leave. She couldn't let it be a haven. It had to be nothing but a bare, uncomfortable room that she could leave behind in a heartbeat. And that, she realised, was exactly what she intended to do, eventually. She would travel the realms, like Lucas had. She would visit new places and see new things, but she wouldn't stay long enough to become attached to people or items.

Of course, there was the small matter of defeating the King of Shadows to overcome first. For that she _did_ need others, and the one she might need most of all was the one she knew least about. Sighing, wishing that life was easier, she stood and opened her door, looking around for the Greycloak guards she knew would be loitering close by. Sure enough, there was one at each end of the corridor.

"Please find Ammon Jerro and bring him to my room," she said to one of them. He saluted, and marched off.

"If you want company, wildcat, you can do a lot better than the old man," said Bishop, approaching from the other direction.

"What I _want_ is to sleep for about three weeks, wake up, have a soak in a hot bath for a few hours, then eat the biggest pile of greasy food that Sal can possibly cook. What I suspect I'm actually going to get is two days of tired rhetoric and repetitive lectures courtesy of Nevalle, a pile of new responsibilities heaped on me by Nasher, and a couple of days worth of dodging street gangs with vendettas but not much common sense."

"Why you bother staying and putting up with all this crap is beyond me."

"Then I suppose that's the difference between us."

"What, that you're willing to be Nasher's lapdog?" he said scornfully.

"That I'm not willing to give up when the odds are against me and times are tough. Harbormen don't give up easily... and Harborwomen put the men to shame. Besides, a lot of people want me dead. Now there are hundreds of Greycloaks and several thousand tons of fortified stone walls between me and the people who want me dead."

"Funny... I didn't think you needed 'protecting'."

"Think of it this way; if I die, you can have my Sword of Quickness. Don't think I haven't seen you looking longingly at it."

"If I wanted your sword, wildcat, I would take it," he said, stepping close to her to exclude the last Greycloak guard from the conversation. He ran the back of his hand along her jaw and down her neck. "I could take anything I wanted from you."

"Then why don't you? It's not as if I can decline your 'price'," she said, refusing to step back. If she wasn't going to step out of the path of the King of Shadows, she _definitely_ wasn't going to step aside for Bishop.

"Because you don't have anything worth taking yet. But you will, one day. You'll find something that you want, and then I'll come and take it from you. Until that moment, I want you to live your life never knowing what I'm going to take, or when I'm going to take it. I want you to live your life afraid to want anything, afraid that if you find something you care for, I'll take it away."

"Just don't take the Keep. I need it."

"Your reverse psychology needs a lot of work. I know you don't want the Keep, and I wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole."

"It was worth a try," she shrugged.

"I hope I'm not interrupting some stripling courting ritual," said Ammon Jerro as he stalked down the corridor. "I was told my presence was requested urgently, but if you are busy I can come back later."

"You are not interrupting. Bishop was just leaving," she said, turning to lead Ammon into her room.

"Remember, wildcat; any time, any where," he called as she shut the door.

"Thank you for coming," she said, dismissing Bishop from her mind.

"It's not as if I have anything better to be doing, is it?" Ammon said gruffly.

"I suppose not."

"Is there something specifically you wanted to talk to me about, or am I simply here to scare off the more unclean members of your cadre?"

"I wanted to ask you about West Harbor."

"Go on."

"Did you destroy it?"

"Recently? No. I went there looking for the Statue, but it was already in ruins when I arrived. I suspect the Reaver had a hand in that. I merely instructed my demons and devils to search the ruins for the Statue. Luckily, I found it before the Reaver did."

"Had you destroyed it, I wouldn't have stopped Nevalle from dragging you back to Neverwinter for whatever punishment Lord Nasher saw fit."

"I don't know what you have been told, but let me tell you this. To fight the King of Shadows, to triumph over him, you are going to have to make decisions that you would rather not make. You might even end up hating yourself for them. In the grand scheme of things, you are expendable. As am I. Any one person is expendable. You simply can't save everybody... to try would be foolish. We are at war, and losing a few battles is acceptable if it means winning the war."

"And down that path lies the tyrant."

"You listen to propoganda and stories. Tyrants want what's best for themselves at the expense of others. I simply want to make the realm safe."

"By destroying it?"

"Anything I might ever do pales in comparison to the destruction that the King of Shadows will bring."

"So your actions are justified simply because you are the lesser of two evils?"

"Tell me... would you sacrifice a hundred murderers, rapists and thieves if it meant bringing an end to the King of Shadows?"

"In a heartbeat," she said without thinking.

"Would you sacrifice a hundred women and children?"

"No, of course not."

"And that is why you fail. You have a morality that our enemy does not, and it will use that against you. Knowing that you have a weakness it will attempt to exploit your flaws. I have studied the King of Shadows since before you were born, and I know how it thinks, how it reasons. Your inability to make difficult decisions will be your undoing, mark my words."

"Was Shandra another 'acceptable loss'?"

"She was a regrettable loss. She was the last of my family, and in a moment of anger and frustration, I killed her. I'm sure _you_ have never killed anybody out of anger, nor coldly killed without detachment."

She had no response to that. The truth was, she had killed a great many people, and most of them she never thought of again. They had simply been obstacles in her way, risks to her life that needed removing. Only three deaths, three people she had killed, stayed with her; Moira was the first. Kail had killed the leader of the thieves running the docks in a mindless berserker rage. She had lost herself to her anger, not only killing the woman but beating her body far beyond death. The second death that stayed with her was that of the nameless Luskan assassin. Though in truth it was Bishop and not she who had struck the killing blow, she had managed to switch off her conscience so that she could torture the man. The worst part was that she didn't regret it. The third death, and the only one that she regretted, was Lorne. For a split second she had embraced death, and only when she had stopped fighting her abilities had she been able to conjure dragon-fire to protect herself.

"The magic you know," she said, changing the subject. "It's not like other magic. It's not like the magic used by Sand and Qara."

"How perceptive of you."

"Does it come from the Weave?"

"In a way. All magic comes from the Weave, but mine is also channelled through the Lower Planes, fuelled by demons and devils. Such magic does not come without a price."

"What price?"

"I have studied magic in many places... in Neverwinter's Academy, even at the Hosttower in Luskan, though that was very long ago. Much of what I know, however, I learnt directly from the demons and devils I summoned. I have made pacts with them, which will last beyond the death of my mortal body. Human bodies, frail and weak, hold little interest for fiends. It is our souls that they covet, and the stronger the soul, the more powerful it is, the greater their desire for it. It is in their own best interest to empower a soul that they have a claim on."

"And you did all of this solely to fight the King of Shadows?"

"Of course."

"I find that hard to believe."

"No doubt because your mind is narrow. Regardless, I don't require your belief, nor do I require your trust or friendship. All I require is that you do what is necessary to succeed."

"What do you suggest I do next, then?" she asked, curious about his plans and opinions. So far, the only one who was actively planning how to defeat the King of Shadows was Zhjaeve; the githyanki had already made a great many suggestions, undergoing the Ritual of Purification and reforging the Sword of Gith were just two of which.

"You must build an army, to replace the one I had that you destroyed. Fortunately, it seems you are already well on your way. You have this Keep, which is being adequately, if not rapidly, fortified. You have gathered around you companions, allies who will aid you in your tasks. I suppose Nasher will have some ideas when you speak to him, but how useful he will be I don't know. I tried to warn people of the King of Shadows the first time around and they laughed at me. But most importantly, you have collected shards of the Sword of Gith. Reforged, it will be your greatest weapon against the King of Shadows, and the Ritual of Purification that we have completed together will weaken it further."

"What do you know about the King of Shadows?" she asked, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Little more than you, I suspect. It was once the Guardian of the Illefarn empire, a giant construct imbued with the power of the Weave, living, if you can call it that, like a parasite. When the mad Netherese mage Karsus tried to become the new god of Magic by slaying Mystryl, magic failed, and in an effort to preserve itself, the Guardian turned to the Shadow Weave to preserve its non-life. It became tainted and soon began to taint everything else around it. The rest I imagine you discovered at Arvahn. The people of Illefarn saw the Guardian as a threat, they tried to destroy it, it resisted and slaughtered everyone. Now it seeks to do the same to us."

"And before that? Before it was the Guardian?"

"He was a man, a human. But who he was I don't know. No record exists of him. As far as I know, his name has been lost to history, or perhaps purposely erased."

"Do you think we can appeal to the human side of the King of Shadows?"

"It has no human side. The ritual designed to create the Guardian completely obliterated the man that it was. Nothing remains of the human."

"Are you certain of that?"

"Of course. The King of Shadows has intelligence and cunning, but it has no personality, it has no humanity, simply an unwavering desire to carry out its orders to protect the borders of the Empire and destroy its enemies."

"Maybe we can convince it that _it_ has become the enemy of the Empire."

"And convince it to destroy itself? That is an interesting thought, I must admit. But I don't even know if it can be parleyed with. I wasn't given the chance to talk, last time I encountered it."

"What does it look like? You're the only one who's seen it and lived to tell about it."

"It is a large construct, not unlike that Blade Golem that your gnome has reanimated. Only it is sleeker and darker, and far more deadly. Its eyes are like dull fires and it wreathes itself in shadow. It is capable of jumping from shadow to shadow as if teleporting, though I suspect it is more to do with its link to the Shadow Plane than actual teleportation. Though it is fuelled by the Shadow Weave, it does not use magic like a wizard does. Rather than casting spells, it uses magic to augment its abilities. It is far faster and stronger than any golem ever conceived."

"The Netherese wizards feared to face it. What makes you think we have a chance?"

"If you had done your homework you would know that the King of Shadows is not infallible. The githyanki once pushed it back to the Plane of Shadows, and when I fought it at West Harbor I managed to wound it with the Sword of Gith. I _had_ planned to use the demons and devils bound to me to fight the King of Shadows. I was convinced that their combined power might be enough to destroy our enemy."

She toyed briefly with the idea of telling him about her divine heritage, but quickly dismissed it. Though Ammon was obviously far more experienced than her at dealing with dark powers, he would no doubt encourage her to embrace the taint of Bhaal's blood, to use it to her advantage. She wanted to work it out for herself, to either embrace it or ignore it by her own decision.

"Do you have any advice for dealing with Nasher?" she asked instead.

"Only that if I were you, I would deal with him as little as possible. First and foremost he is a politician. His judgement will be clouded by politics, by wanting to do what is right, by not wanting to offend his allies, by trying to save face with the merchants and nobles of the courts. You must avoid that world, if you can. Your mind needs to be free of social pointless frivolities. You cannot be worrying about politics during a war."

"Thank you. I hope we can talk further when I return from Neverwinter."

"And I hope that you change your mind about making difficult decisions."

When he left she finally locked her door and undressed, climbing into her cold bed. The fire had long since gone out, leaving her room draughty. That was for the best; she slept better in the cold, anyway. It reminded her of simpler times, when she would fall asleep in Valear's tent with only his body for warmth. Though those days were long over, it was one of the few truly happy, carefree memories she possessed. She would have given almost anything to go back to those days, to live in them forever. But of course, going back to those times was as impossible as going back to West Harbor; they were both gone for good.

o - o - o - o - o

"I thought you packed last night," said Neeshka, sitting on the edge of Kail's bed early the next morning. Kail herself had practically climbed inside her wardrobe and was rifling through her clothes hanging from the rail.

"I did," she said in vexation. "But I wanted to wear my white shirt on the journey. Why is it that you can never find the shirt that you want?"

"Your old white one? It's a bit plain, isn't it? Wear the blue one. Blue suits you."

"I don't like blue. I like white or green, but I don't have any green shirts, and that was my _last_ white one."

"You probably ripped it and threw it away."

"Maybe. I suppose I'll have to get some new ones in Neverwinter," she sighed. With no better choices she took a brown shirt from the wardrobe and slipped it over her head, tucking it into her trousers and lacing it up at the chest.

"I'll help you carry your bags down," said Neeshka, picking up the saddlebags. Kail took her backpack and they made their way down the stairs to the ground level of the Keep. Outside, in the courtyard, a groom was holding her horse which pawed impatiently at the ground. Sir Nevalle was sitting astride his own horse, a heavily-built black; no doubt he had interpreted her words down to the letter and had been sat there since first light. She simply didn't care. Let him look down on her with his silent accusations. She didn't have to answer to him or anyone else.

As the groom put her saddlebags over the horse's back, she looked around at the Keep. Greycloaks were marching to and fro, preparing to form scouting parties. The roads to Crossroad Keep had to be defended against bandits, even in bad weather. At the far end of the courtyard, Elanee was sitting in meditation amongst the trees of her new grove. The elf had wrapped herself in a long thick coat; no doubt she felt the cold after sitting in the same position for any amount of time.

Though the hour was early light spilled out from the windows of the Inn. Sal, Kail had quickly realised, was some sort of powerful entity embued with the gift of never needing any sleep. Or that's how it seemed to her, anyway. No doubt Khelgar was inside the inn, starting on his first ale of the day. Bishop would probably be there too, lounging in front of the fire as usual. His words the previous night did not concern her too much. She half didn't expect to survive the war against the King of Shadows. And if by some miracle or divine at she _did_ survive, she wouldn't be coming back to Neverwinter. She would _not_ return so that Nasher could bestow her with more titles and lands. She didn't want the responsibility of sorting out people's petty problems, and she certainly didn't want to be chained to the Keep, to Neverwinter itself, and Nasher's service. Let him find someone else to be his hero, to put on a pedestal and reassure the masses that everything was going to be alright and that Neverwinter was all-powerful. No. She would leave, and she would have nothing to her name. Nothing that Bishop could take.

"Are you looking for someone?" Neeshka asked after a moment.

"Grobnar," she replied with a nod.

"He's not taking Shandra's death very well. They were good friends, you know. I think he just need some time to come to terms with it."

"Will you watch over him while I'm gone? Make sure he's okay and that he eats and that he doesn't try to do something silly like taking revenge."

"Of course. I'll keep him occupied."

"And keep an eye on Master Veedle... don't let him into my suite. And don't let Sand..."

"Kail. Stop worrying. Honestly, you're worse than a mother leaving her child alone with a minder. Or at least what I imagine a nervous mother leaving her child would be like. I'll take care of everything. And the stuff I can't take care of, Kana and Casavir will deal with between themselves. You know that Kana practically worships the ground you walk on. Casavir would too, if it didn't mean betraying his oaths to Tyr."

"Now you're being silly," she said, rolling her eyes. "But thank you. Will you hold my other stirrup?"

As Neeshka held her other stirrup so the saddle wouldn't slip, Kalil scrambled onto the horse's back, tightened the girth and readjusted the stirrups. Then she nodded to Sir Nevalle. He turned his black horse towards the gate and she followed him silently.


	75. A Sheep in Wolf's Clothing

_75. A Sheep in Wolf's Clothing_

Night was falling over Neverwinter. It promised to be another cold, clear evening and already the stars were beginning to show. A fine layer of frost coated windows along the main road of the Merchant District, distorting the images inside them, making them appear hazy and dream-like. Leading the leggy white mare through the streets, Bishop stopped occasionally to look into the windows.

The scenes inside were many and varied. In some, merchants and traders went about their business. Customers perused goods. Assistants held discussions with them. In other windows the scenes were different. They showed families sitting down to dine, children playing in front of the fire, men and women sitting hand in hand on long settees, dogs sitting patiently by tables awaiting scraps of dropped food, grandparents bouncing children on their knees... each window showed different characters but more or less the same story. Outside, looking in, he was a stranger, the element that just didn't belong in any of the scenes. When his breath, frosting as soon as it left his mouth, caused the windows to whiten further, making them opaque, he moved on.

The horse didn't seem to mind the cold. Part of him wished he hadn't brought it; animals that could not fend for themselves were a hindrance. But riding _was_ the fastest way to get to Neverwinter, and he'd needed to get there before Nevalle and Kail. The knight had been quite adamant that Kail go there alone, and that was just fine with him. But he had business in Neverwinter, and he wasn't going to let some shiny tin-headed bastard tell him where he could and could not go. If all went well, neither Nevalle nor Kail would ever know he had been in Neverwinter. He had set off during the evening after speaking to Kail and ridden through the night. When the groom had asked why he wanted the horse, he had said it was for hunting. Entirely plausible, and nobody would question his absence.

At last he reached the building he sought. Before he reached the door he turned down the alley at the side of the building, where he knew there was a stable. A groom, rubbing his hands and cupping them in front of his face to breathe on them and keep them warm, gave him a bow as he approached. Bishop tossed the man the reins without a word. Words weren't needed in a place like this. Discretion was paramount... no noble wanted a groom who talked and looked too closely at faces.

Light and music spilled out from the windows in the front of the building. The windows themselves were small and made of twisted glass that distorted everything within. Once, the Moonstone Mask hadn't had windows at all. A matter of privacy for the clientele. Now that business was better for Ophala she had been able to afford a great many upgrades to the Mask. Most of it had been rebuilt after the war with Luskan -- he had to resist the urge to spit at the name -- and the more unscrupulous customers had been stricken from the guest list.

When he entered, a young woman in a beautiful red dress bowed and greeted him. He ignored her and went straight to a booth. He didn't look at the menu on the table. He didn't glance around at the scantily clad girls moving to and fro around the room. He barely even registered the dancer in the corner, shaking her hips and her bosom in what was probably a provocative way. He merely sat and waited, and he didn't have to wait long.

"Do I know you, stranger?" Ophala asked, slipping onto the seat opposite him.

"Funny."

"I thought you'd fallen off the face of Faerûn, Bishop. Either that or had your throat cut by somebody with a grudge. This is one of those rare times that I'm actually pleased to be proven wrong," she smiled, linking her hands together. It was a wonder she could even do that; every finger was adorned by a ring. They were gold, silver, bejewelled and plain, narrow and wide... it was an obvious and gaudy display of wealth and status.

For a moment, he examined the woman in front of him. She had barely changed at all over the years, though her dresses had grown increasingly opulent... and increasingly revealing. It seemed the higher the class of clients that patronised the Mask, the lower the neckline of Ophala's dresses became. Her face was painted in bold colours; blue on her eyelids and grey above them. Pastel pink blusher had been brushed across her cheeks, making her look flushed. Her lips were berry-red, and the earrings that hung from her ears were gold with a plethora of tiny diamonds inside them. He had no idea what she looked like beneath the layers of makeup and clothes, and he never would. Ophala was the only woman in the Mask who wasn't for sale.

"Here," he said, reaching into his pocket and taking out a bag of coins. He tossed it onto the table in front of her, the coins jingling together inside. Her eyes went to the purse, but she did not yet touch it. "The balance on my last payment... and my next one," he explained.

"Ah. I had wondered what brought you here. Well, the night is cold, after all. You're not the only man looking for a warm bed."

"Actually, I'm looking for work. What do you know?"

"Very little," she sighed, looking genuinely depressed. "Times are difficult, at least for the nobles. They're keeping their heads down, you see. All this business with Dalren and Gentry... bless their dead traitorous souls... and then Lord Nasher cracking down on the Merchant's Guild. They fear to draw his eye to them, to bring his wrath down upon themselves."

He nodded. He had suspected as much. Bloody Ammon Jerro, spoiling everyone's fun by summoning demons and murdering old men.

"You look different," said Ophala. She was watching him like a hawk watching a mouse and he almost squirmed beneath her gaze.

"I have a new shirt," he said, growing increasingly uncomfortable as she peered at him.

"No... you have that look about you," she said. "That hunted look. Is somebody hunting you?"

"Nobody's bloody hunting me."

"No need to pout," she laughed.

"Tell me," he said, as much to change the subject as anything else. "Why did you do it?"

"Ah, I was wondering when you would get around to asking."

"Well?"

"Because I have a soft spot for handsome, unscrupulous rogues. You reminded me a little of my first husband, only without the drunken abuse, stale breath and incontinence."

"Where is he now?"

"He died a long time ago. Ate something that was bad for him," she smiled.

"Ophala?" called one of the girls from across the room. She and another girl were supporting between them an inebriated man who looked to be about eighty. He was grinning like an idiot, trying to grope the breasts of one of the girls but missing by several inches.

"Excuse me, I'll be back in a moment," she said, striding away from him.

Ophala really _hadn't_ changed in years, despite her outward appearance. He closed his eyes, remembering the first time he had met her.

_ He stood outside the inn, looking at the paint peeling from the sign outside. It didn't _look_ very promising, but Fenton had assured him that the establishment was well worth a visit. So, with nothing better to do, he stepped inside._

_ Two bouncers built like Tarrasques gave him the once-over, then permitted him to enter. He walked down the short corridor and came to the common room. It reminded him of home... he shook his head. No, it reminded him of Luskan. Luskan. Luskan was not home. He owed nothing to Luskan. He owed nothing to the Circle._

_ The thoughts pained him, made breathing difficult. The Circle of Blades was extremely good at making you think what they wanted you to think. Some bright individual had come up with the idea that if a person associated a word or a memory with pain, they would cease to use that word, cease to think of that memory. The mind, to protect itself, repressed knowledge which brought pain. That was how they instilled 'loyalty' into their assassins._

_ My name... he thought as he walked to a table. My name is... my name is... Bishop. He sighed. It was no use. His name was the second thing they had taken from him, right after they had taken his freedom. Now he didn't remember his own name. He literally _couldn't_ remember it. All he could remember was the name they had given him, to break the ties to his former life. All he could remember was that he was Bishop._

_ He watched the people around him for a moment. Though at first the room had reminded him of Luskan, he realised that it was only a superficial resemblance. These people were rowdy but only because of the alcohol they seemed to be consuming in massive quantities. They weren't being violent -- the bouncers wouldn't allow it -- and although the serving girls looked run off their feet, they weren't being indecently treated, they weren't being fondled and groped by the patrons._

_ "Ah, a new face," said a commanding voice. A tall woman took the seat opposite him, appraising him frankly. "I am Ophala, owner and proprietor of the Moonstone Mask."_

_ "My name is... Bishop," he said. She cocked her head, a look of confusion passing across her face._

_ "You are from... Luskan?" she guessed._

_ "Not originally. I lived there for a while. Now I want a change."_

_ "And well that you do! Their accents... so uncouth. Can you imagine a man whispering sweet nothings in your ear with a terrible accent like that?"_

_ "I generally don't think of men whispering sweet nothings in my ear," he said flatly._

_ "Ahh, excuse me. Some men do... I wouldn't have judged you for it. So... what is your fancy?"_

_ "I... don't know." One woman was pretty much the same as the next, as far as he was concerned. In Luskan, there were more whores than not. They lined the streets, plying their wares in all weather. Half of them would rob you blind whilst in the act. Their faces were masks, cold things on empty bodies and dead souls._

_ "Well, what do you like in a woman?" Ophala asked, obviously amused._

_ "A pulse."_

_ "Haha. Yes, well, pulses are compulsory for my employees, I can assure you. But other than that, what do you like?"_

_ "Why does it matter? I'm not here to find a wife or a soul mate or to hold in-depth conversations about the current state of political affairs. Just give me something female and a room for a couple of hours."_

_ "Oh dear. Such a bitter and jaded young man," she tsked._

_ "I'm not here for a psychological evaluation either. Is this how you greet all your new customers?"_

_ "Perhaps it should be. But as you have lived in Luskan you have no doubt picked up all sorts of bad manners and strange ideas about what is acceptable. So I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, and I will explain a few things to you. If you feel that we can't accommodate you, and vice versa, you may leave."_

_ "Fine."_

_ "First of all, you don't pay for my girls, you pay for my rooms. I don't sell sex, I sell privacy. Every room comes with a girl of your own choosing, but what you do in the room is up to you. I have lonely old clients who want nothing more than a cuddle with a comely woman, and clients who want to burn oil all night. Secondly, all of my girls are individuals, with distinct personalities and skills. Cherry!"_

_ A woman came flying across the room, dropping a curtsy to Ophala. Bishop looked at the woman; her brown hair was worked into curls, and apart from red paint on her lips, her skin was bare, free from make-up. The dress she wore was revealing, but also held the promise of more to come. Her warm brown eyes were framed by thick black lashes, and somehow she managed to portray innocence._

_ "Cherry has worked for me for a long time. She came from Waterdeep originally. She's a wonder at sensual massage. She can work knots out of almost any muscle imaginable, and she's very popular with my patrons. Crystal!"_

_ Cherry was replaced by another woman; her long blonde hair was loose, falling down her back. Her dress was iridescent white, shining like mother of pearl. A circle had been cut out of the chest, showing the inner curve of her breasts and promising amble bosom._

_ "Crystal is my newest employee, and she's a local girl. Grew up right here in Neverwinter, in the Docks. Her speciality? She will drive you wild with her words; she talks dirtier than a sailor, but she will make you feel like you are the only man she has ever talked that way to. Thank you, Crystal, you may go back to your work. Do you see my point, Bishop?"_

_ "Yes yes, they're all special and unique."_

_ "Then you must tell me what you like, then I can match you to a girl who will suit your needs."_

_ "Fine. I like Cherry. Massage... I could go for some of that."_

_ "I am pleased. I will give you a room key. It is yours until morning. As I said, what you wish to do in there is none of my business, but you will respect my girls. If you hurt Cherry in any way, I will hurt you. Do you understand me?"_

_ "Perfectly."_

_ Several hours later he dressed by the light of a lone candle, pulling on his boots and lacing them up. Behind him, Cherry stirred in the bed, her skin pale in contrast to the red silk sheets. She reached out for him, sitting up when she noticed him missing._

_ "You're not leaving, are you?" she asked. "You've paid for the room for the night."_

_ "I'll be back. I just have to meet someone. It's a business arrangement that I couldn't get out of. Go back to sleep."_

_ "Well, alright. Don't be too long, though. The beds get cold quickly."_

_ He found the stairs easily enough and made his way down to the common room. It was empty, all of its patrons either upstairs in rooms or returned to their own homes. Only one bouncer remained by the door, his arms crossed in front of him._

_ "Where are you going?" Ophala asked, stepping out from behind the bar. Gods, didn't the woman sleep at all?_

_ "I have to meet a business contact."_

_ "Hmm. I don't usually allow my patrons to re-enter once they have left my premises, especially at such late hours. But since you are a new customer, I will allow it this once. Ander, let Bishop back in when he returns."_

_ "Yes, Ophala," said the bouncer._

_ Out in the street the night air was cold and frosty. Cats scurried in the alleys, hissing at each other and at him. He ignored them, as he ignored the occasional drunks who vomited into the ditches by the side of the road. He kept his hood up and walked quickly but without seeming to rush. He knew where he was going; though he had only been in the city for a few days, the Docks district was familiar to him. It was where Duncan's tavern was, after all._

_ When he reached the Docks he took to the back alleys. They were actually a safer way to travel than by the main roads. Piracy and thievery ran rampant in this area. Bishop wasn't afraid of the pirates or the thieves -- they no doubt had a healthy respect for him after he left several of their number dead in the gutters -- but tonight he could not afford to be seen or recognised._

_ A lone figure waited at the meeting point behind two buildings. Cloaked and hooded just like him, the figure gestured impatiently. Bishop stalked over but did not lower his hood._

_ "You're late," his contact growled._

_ "I wanted to be sure I wasn't followed."_

_ "Here's your payment." The figure reached into its pocket and Bishop tensed, ready for betrayal. But the man simply brought out a purse, handing it to him. Bishop hefted it, testing its weight, then opened it to briefly look inside. "This isn't twenty gold," he said._

_ "There's an extra five in there. My employer wants to ensure your silence."_

_ "Your employer is generous."_

_ "Yes, he is. There will be another job for you, next week. If you want it."_

_ "I will think about it."_

_ "Meet me here, same time next week."_

_ Bishop nodded and turned to make his way back out of the alley. One thing alone saved his life; one of the windows in the alley was dark, and in the moonlight it acted as a mirror. From the corner of his eye Bishop saw the reflection of his contact move, the man's arm striking rapidly towards his back. From his sleeve a switch-blade emerged, wickedly sharp and glinting in the cold light of the moon._

_ He spun, catching the man's arm in a block, then struck his attacker's neck with his elbow hearing the _crack_ of cartilage. From his belt he took his own dagger and sank it into the man's stomach, dragging the blade so that it eviscerated him. A foul smell assaulted his nose as the man's intestines and bowels gushed out onto the floor._

_ With a curse, Bishop kicked the corpse. This was a mess that he _really_ didn't need right now. Swearing, he bent down and began to drag the corpse from the alley. The docks was only a few paces away, and he tipped the body over the side, hoping the weight of his clothes would drag him down. He had already been gone too long, he didn't have time to weight the corpse down properly. Still, there was nothing to pin this death on him. Even if somebody had seen him, he had acted in self defence. Hurriedly, without a backward glance, he made his way back to the Moonstone Mask._

_ The next morning he was woken by loud banging on the bedroom door. Cherry groaned beside him and pulled the pillow over her head. Bishop pulled on his trousers and made his way groggily to the door. Expecting to find Ophala and one of the bouncers telling him it was time to leave, he blinked in surprise when he was faced with five Watchmen. Behind them, Ophala had a worried look on her face._

_ "I didn't hurt her. Ask her yourself, if you like," he gestured at the dozing woman._

_ "Do you know a merchant named Tallis?" one of the Watch officers asked him._

_ "Never heard of him," he yawned, hiding the panic rising in his chest. If the Watch tried to arrest him he wouldn't be able to fight them; there were too many, and he was unarmed._

_ "Well he's heard of you. And his body was just pulled from the Docks by a fisherman repairing his net."_

_ "I've always felt that swimming in the ocean in winter is stupid," he quipped. "But what does this have to do with me?"_

_ "We went to Tallis' shop. He had a diary. In it was a scheduled meeting with you last night." As the officer spoke, Bishop cursed the gods. The fool had actually written it down?_

_ "I was supposed to meet a man, but I was told his name was Beran," said Bishop, improvising. "I've only been in Neverwinter for a few days and I was told that Beran might have some work for me, escorting caravans and whatnot. I don't know the details, whether he was shipping food or weapons or what. But I decided to cancel the meeting and spend my night here instead. Maybe this 'Beran' is the same man as your 'Tallis'... I wouldn't know. Like I said, I never met him."_

_ "Right. And it's just a coincidence that he was killed on the night he was supposed to meet you. He probably tripped and gutted himself on his own blade, then jumped off the dock thinking it might cure him," the officer scoffed. "Lieutenant Carver, Lieutenant Brelaina, arrest this man." A man and a woman stepped forward, and Bishop took a step back._

_ "There really is no need for this," said Ophala. "I can guarantee that this man was here all night. It is a known fact that I don't let somebody back in once they've left."_

_ "Sorry Ophala, but if he wasn't in your bed all night, you can't guarantee that he didn't leave."_

_ "Then ask Cherry and my boys on the doors. I'm sure between them they'd notice if he'd left. Cherry?"_

_ "No my lady, he didn't leave the room all night," said Cherry. She was sitting in the bed, the silk sheet wrapped around her body, hiding what little modesty she actually possessed._

_ "There, you see? Now why don't we go downstairs and double check with Ander?"_

_ "Hmph. No need," the officer scowled. "One witness is all it takes to save a person from the gallows these days." The Watchmen left, obviously none too happy at having lost their only lead on a murder case. No doubt they would actually have to do some real investigative work now. They might even find somebody to pin it on, if they looked hard enough._

_ "Thank you, Cherry. You may go and get dressed," said Ophala. The young woman scurried out, the sheet of the bed still wrapped around her body. After she had left, Ophala closed the door and leant back on it._

_ "I suppose this is the point where I thank you and you blackmail me for silence?" he said bitterly._

_ "Something like that. I'm curious... why did you kill Tallis?"_

_ "I didn't know it was him. I thought I was meeting one of his guards. The idiot was just supposed to pay me for a job I did for his boss... he thought he would turn the tables and pulled a blade on me. If I'd known the man I was meeting was actually Tallis I would have disposed of the body more carefully."_

_ "What job did you perform for him?"_

_ "He wanted a message delivered to somebody."_

_ "Ah, say no more," Ophala said with a knowing smile._

_ "So. What's your price? You want somebody dead? Injured? Protected? I'm not too good at protecting. People who spend too much time around me tend to end up dead."_

_ "I get to know a great many people, in my line of work."_

_ "I bet."_

_ "It is not what you think, I can assure you. These people are often rich and influential..."_

_ "And very into their privacy?"_

_ "Very much so. They are always looking out for... help. They often need things doing that they cannot do themselves. And they pay well. Because I sell privacy, they often come to me for a place to discuss their business."_

_ "Right. Because who expects a man who comes to a whore-house to do anything but screw cheap women?"_

_ "We are not a whore-house and my women are not cheap, but you have the right idea. For introducing you to men who need jobs doing, I will require only a modest fee, a small percentage of any money you will undoubtedly earn. In return, you will make a lot of money and you will not be locked away in Neverwinter's gaol. You do not need to take every job offered to you, only hear them out. It will all be done anonymously. You will not know the men you are meeting, and they will not know you. How does that sound?"_

_ "I've had worse offers," he admitted. Ophala was obviously an intelligent and very capable woman. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to cross her._

_ "I am glad. It just so happens that I know of somebody who had been cheated by Tallis in the past. He was looking for a... message... to be delivered to the merchant. Since you have already done just that, I will have payment brought here for you."_

_ He grunted in acknowledgment. He wasn't at all surprised by her words; had she lived in Luskan, Ophala would probably have gotten rid of every Pirate Lord by now and started running the place herself._

_ "By the way... how did you find Cherry?" she asked, poised with the door open._

_ "She has a pulse. I've no complaints."_

_ Smiling, Ophala left the room and he sank on to the bed. As far as blackmailing went, this could be worse. At least Ophala was honest. At least he knew what she wanted from him. Now, if only he could get rid of Duncan._

"You look pensive," said Ophala, sitting back down in the chair. Looking around, Bishop saw no sign of the old man. No doubt he had been carefully ejected onto the street. Most likely the back street, so that he could leave with some modicum of privacy.

"I was remembering the good old days," he replied.

"Ah, the good old days. Much has changed, since then. It used to be that every man had his price. Now there are some who can't be bought."

"At least every woman still has her price. Except you, of course."

"It is both a blessing and a curse."

"In what way?"

"Men always want what they cannot have. The more they cannot have something, the more they want it," Ophala smiled. "I am regularly propositioned by men who want me not because they are interested in me but because they see me as unattainable. A status symbol to acquire. They are, of course, fools."

"Want me to deliver a few messages?" he offered.

"No, I can handle fools myself."

"True."

"So. You have made good the outstanding balance on your last payment, and put down a deposit for your next. You have enquired about work, and I have told you that there is none. And yet you are still here. Are you looking for somebody with a pulse?"

"Not... exactly," he said uncomfortable with the accuracy of her guess.

"Do tell. Come now, I deal in privacy," she said, noticing his reticence. "I hear on a daily basis exactly what men want. In all the time that I've known you, you've never told me what it is that you want. If you have finally made your mind up I would like to hear it."

"I want a young woman, short with dark brown hair. Pale skin and the faintest hint of freckles over the bridge of her nose. Delicate fingers that can grip like a vice. Lips that aren't too wide nor too narrow. Eyes that are warm blue or cold grey, and a voice that can convey every emotion imaginable in a single sentence. I want her to show ruthless wisdom far beyond her years, yet be innocent enough to be surprised by the slightest touch. Experienced enough to know what she wants but inexperienced enough that she can learn new things."

"You don't ask for much," said Ophala laconically. "Amber!" she called, clapping her hands.

A young woman approached, probably one of the youngest that Ophala employed. Her brown hair was straight and fell to halfway down her back. Her cheeks were round and full, her blue eyes animated. She was short, but not short enough, and too heavy. Not fat, but what most men would probably call 'pleasantly plump'.

"Is she the best you can do?" he asked.

"Don't take it personally, my dear," said Ophala, patting the girl's arm. "Some men are just far too picky. Well Bishop, you told me what you want, and I've shown you what I have. Take it or leave it."

"Which room?"

Ophala reached for the bag of coins that he had earlier thrown on the table. She counted them out one by one, then deftly slipped the purse up her sleeve.

"Number six. Amber, be a dear and ready room six, won't you? Make sure the fire is blazing. We don't want our guest cold tonight."

"Yes, my lady," said Amber with a bow. She walked away, giving him coy glances over her shoulder as she made her way up the stairs.

"Who is she?" Ophala asked. He tore his gaze away from Amber's swaying hips long enough to raise a questioning eyebrow at the older woman. "This woman you want but cannot have. Who is she?"

"What makes you think there's a woman? Or that I can't have her?"

"Your description was far too accurate. You could only have seen the face you described in a painting, or in the flesh. But paintings do not have emotions or personalities, nor do they have voices. Therefore, your woman must be real. And she must be unattainable, because if you could have her you would not be here right now, seeking someone who looks like her." When he said nothing, she continued. "It's a shame that no matter how accurate the substitute, it's never the same as the real thing. You will not find who you are looking for here, I can tell you that now. I speak from experience, with the benefit of hindsight."

"I don't want the real thing. I just want to get her out of my head," he said angrily. "Do you know what it's like having someone in your head all the time, taking over your thoughts like they own you? It's not right. It ought to be a crime."

"Oh, but it is. It is the greatest crime a person can ever commit. It is the crime of being somebody you can love."

"Don't use that word. I don't love her."

"Tell me... when you are around this women who you don't love, do you feel your pulse racing? Are you aware of every tiny movement she makes? Do you know when she is happy or upset just from a minute mannerism? Do your eyes follow her? Does your body ache when she is out of your sight? Do you think about her, constantly? Do you think of the little, unimportant things as often as the bigger things? Do you think of the colour of her hair, the scent of her clothes, the play of light on her skin, the look in her eyes when she is pleased with you? Does your heart ache for her at every waking moment?"

"I don't have a heart. I lost it years ago."

"Then she is also guilty of another crime... making you feel. Making you live. And I'm not talking about living as most people see it; moving around, breathing, eating and drinking. I mean living every moment to its fullest, of wanting for nothing, of..."

"I get it, Ophala," he said.

"Good. I think Amber should be ready for you now. If you want food sending up simply let me know. You're not going to tell me who she is, are you?"

"No," he said, standing and picking his pack up from the chair beside him.

"A shame," she sighed. "Well, I'll be here if you change your mind."

He wouldn't, he knew. Ophala had already extracted from him more than he was comfortable with. She could do that... she was insidious at times.

He was more than familiar with the layout of the Mask. He had spent a lot of time in the building, over the years. Sometimes he came for business, and other times for pleasure. Ophala knew that he was always good for payments -- eventually -- which was why she occasionally allowed him to build up a tab. Not that money was a problem, of late. One advantage of traipsing all over the Sword Coast was the large profit margin. He made money from finding and selling things, mostly, and there never seemed to be an end to the gold flowing into and out of Crossroad Keep.

Room six was at the far end of the corridor. When he entered he found Amber stoking the fire. This was one of Ophala's best rooms, and rightfully so for the price he'd paid. The four-poster bed was large, the windows curtained with thick purple velvet. The bed quilt was likewise purple; the colour associated with royalty, he knew, and wondered if Nasher had ever been here. Probably not.

Amber placed the poker back beside the fire and tiptoed over to him. Her dress was yellow, like buttercups in summer, and her slippers were as orange as the flames of the fire.

"Can I take your cloak?" she asked, smiling demurely.

"No," he said, taking off his own cloak and hanging it on the stand.

"Then how about your boots?"

"I'll take them off shortly."

"You know, Saffron spoke very highly of you, but she never mentioned how stubborn you are," she said, taking his hand and leading him to the round table at the far end of the room.

"Who?"

"Saffron. She recognised you, when you came into the Mask. She asked me to pass on her greeting to you."

"What does she look like?" he asked. Ophala employed a lot of women and they worked in shifts. He had met quite a lot of them, but their names tended to elude him. They were all fake, flowery names designed to sound pretty or rich... Saffron, Ruby, Sapphire, Daisy... stupid names.

"She's tall with black hair and brown eyes. She has a tattoo of stars along her... um..."

"Oh yeah, I remember her." The stars trailed from her collarbone down to her breasts. Presumably they were there to guide men who didn't know where to go next. All he knew was that it had probably hurt like hell to have them done. Though probably not as much as it had hurt Kail to cut her own arms and make tattoos of her own in memory of her friends and family in West Harbor.

"Would you like a massage?" Amber asked. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his neck.

"No," he said, brushing her off. "I thought we might try a little role-play."

"What's that?" she asked, a confused look on her face. He sighed. She obviously wasn't the brightest of girls at the Mask. Saffron, he recalled, had been almost as shrewd as Ophala herself.

"It's where you pretend to be someone else," he explained.

"Why would I want to pretend to be someone else?"

"Because I'm paying Ophala a lot of money for you to make me happy. If you don't make me happy, she won't be pleased."

"Oh, very well," she said, exasperated. "Can I be a princess, then? I always wanted to be a princess."

"No, you can't." He opened his pack and took out a pair of brown trousers and a white shirt. "Put these on," he said, throwing them to her. She sniffed them and pulled her face.

"Are they even clean?"

"The trousers are."

"But this shirt smells of... I don't know what it smell of, but it doesn't smell of perfume."

"It's a perfume called 'peat moss'. I like it."

"This is the strangest night I've ever had," she said, laying the clothes on the bed and unbuttoning her dress at the back. He turned and walked to the window, pulling aside the curtains to peer through the frost at the lights down below. Small people in their small houses living simple lives. They didn't know how easy they had it.

"You don't have to turn around," said Amber. "You're going to be seeing me naked soon anyway."

"I like the anticipation."

"Does this look right? What am I supposed to be?" He turned and found her dressed in the clothes he had provided. It wasn't quite right; the trousers were too short and she shirt was tight around her bosom.

"You're supposed to be an adventurer."

"Then shouldn't I have a sword and shield or something? I don't feel much like an adventurer. Besides, if I was an adventurer, why would I be working in a brothel? Am I undercover or something?"

"Yes, you're undercover. You're trying to expose a smuggling ring." He crossed the floor and pushed her hair back, lowering his head to kiss her neck.

"You know, if I was an undercover adventurer working in a brothel, I wouldn't dress like an undercover adventurer working in a brothel. I'd dress like a serving girl."

"Just... don't talk," he sighed.

"Okay."

She unlaced his shirt and ran her fingers along his chest, kissing along the top of his collarbone. Closing his eyes, he ran the fingers of one hand through her hair, feeling its silky smooth texture. Without sight to ruin the illusion, he could almost believe that it was Kail standing before him. The smell was right... a mixture of clean soap and peat moss. The touch was right; her fingers made his skin tingle where they touched and her kisses were light, both teasing and sensual. He bent his head and gently kissed along her neck, and the moment was ruined by a girlish giggle.

"What?" he asked, annoyed.

"That tickled."

"Get changed back into your dress and go away," he ordered, walking to the table to pour himself a glass of water from the pitcher.

"But you paid Ophala a lot of money for the room!"

"The room, yes. I don't want you in it. Consider it your night off."

"Ophala has a no-refund policy, you know."

"Yes, I know."

Amber changed back into her dress, dropped the clothes on the bed and left, stopping just short of slamming the door behind her. When she was gone, he locked it, and sat on the end of the bed, staring into the fire. He should have known that this wouldn't work. He had never had this problem before, had never struggled to find interest and arousal in the presence of a willing and pretty woman. It would be just bloody typical if Kail had managed to ruin other women for him without actually having done anything. If he'd slept with the little wildcat and found it the most mind-blowing experience of his life then yes, it would be understandable. That was the worst part of it. He barely even saw other women now; he was getting nothing from them and nothing from her.

He picked up the shirt and held it to his nose, inhaling deeply. Images flashed through his mind; Kail crouching down staring at him, Kail lying on her bed with damp hair watching him through her lashes, Kail bleeding from a head wound looking at him with pain in her eyes, Kail in his arms as they shuffled around the floor of the Flagon, Kail surrounded by fire as she stood in the path of a Blade Golem twice her size, Kail closing her eyes to enjoy his touch as he ran a hand down her pale neck...

This was all Karnwyr's fault. The wolf thought of her as Alpha, and to wolves, obedience to Alpha was paramount. He was even the one who had taken the shirt from Kail's pack when she hadn't been looking. Bishop had taken it from him later, when he had discovered the wolf curled up beneath his bed lying on the shirt.

Rightfully, he ought to hate Kail. She was Duncan's niece. She was probably in on the whole blackmail thing. But... she was so different to anybody he had ever met before. She was fearless. From the first night they had met, when she had asked if she could stroke Karnwyr, her unwillingness to give in to her fear had impressed him. She was determined. When she set her mind to something, nothing could sway her decision. And more than that... she treated him like a person, like he had worth. Then again, she tended to treat almost everybody close to her like that, even the gnome. And on top of all that, she wasn't afraid of him, not in the slightest. Every insult he hurled at her, she hurled scathingly back. She took his half-hearted teasing in her stride, neither giving in to it nor returning it. And he wanted her so, so much. He would have given anything to feel the touch of her kiss. A night of holding her in his arms would have made him feel complete. Even something as simple as watching her sleep when they had to camp outside made him happy.

He stood up and in two strides covered the distance to the fire. He threw the shirt and trousers in, watching them go up in flames. He didn't deserve to be happy. He didn't _want_ to be happy. Once you were happy you kept wanting it, kept _needing_ it, and he didn't want to need anything or anybody. Becoming reliant on people was weakness, and he could not afford to be weak, not with his enemies waiting for him to trip up and make a mistake. He would get over Kail, eventually. He would stop wanting her, over time. Until then he had to remain strong. He had to remain alone, because it was the only thing he truly knew how to be.


	76. When the Cat is Away

_76. When the Cat is Away_

"Hey, you! What do you think you're doing? No, don't even bother to answer that, I can see damn well what you're doing. What have I told you about this? Was I talking to myself the first time around?" Neeshka stalked along the corridor, her tail lashing wildly from side to side. Through the open doorway, six men froze in terror. Between them, being transported on wooden rollers, was a large, ornate, stone bath tub. Leaping dolphins had been carved into the side of it. Its legs stood on the backs of turtles, each one carved lovingly in stone. Faux taps were shaped into the form of nymphs, pouring water from vases.

"But... but but..." one of them managed to stammer, "Master Veedle said..."

"I don't care if Master Veedle said that Kail is Amaunator incarnate and that you need to bathe her in the milk of virgin donkeys to make her skin soft. You've been told that this sort of thing isn't wanted. I told you that. Didn't I tell you that?" she shouted.

"Y-y-y-yes, mistress."

"Don't call me that! It makes me sound like some old bag having an affair with a married man. Get out, all of you just get out!"

Then men scurried away quickly, and Neeshka let out a loud scream. The bath was where they had left it, in the middle of the Captain's Suite. Kail was going to be _furious_. She'd only been gone for **five hours**, and Master Veedle had already managed to install a bearskin rug, a gilded water stand, a work of art commissioned and framed by one of Neverwinter's finest artists, and now this bloody great big bath! Where in the hells had he found enough marble to carve an entire _bath_ out of it?! This was Calindra's doing, surely. Veedle was always pestering the ore merchant for things.

"Neeshka..." said a voice in the doorway. She swivelled on the spot and pointed an accusatory finger at Casavir.

"I swear to the gods if you come in here with anything gilded or fluffy or silky, I will get that little kobold merchant to do something extremely unpleasant to -- or in! -- your next meal."

"I need to talk to you."

"Really? Why? Did somebody else die?" The paladin rarely gave her the time of day, much less initiated conversation.

"No, but it is about Shandra."

"Oh. Okay, what's up?"

"Last night, Kail asked me to perform a memorial service for Shandra... for the men and women of the Keep, you see."

"Count me in, I'll definitely be there," she said, stepping past him and into the hallway. He followed her.

"Yes, I thought as much. But, well... Shandra and I didn't speak all that often. I know that you were closer to her than I, and I was wondering if she'd ever mentioned to you which gods she worshipped. I would like the service to be fitting, and I'm not sure one performed according to the rites of Tyr would be suitable."

"Are you kidding me?" she asked, fixing him with a level gaze. "Gee, I dunno, let's think about that for a moment. Shandra was a _farmer_. Who do farmers worship?"

"Chauntea. I'd thought as much myself, but I didn't want to offend anyone, especially not Shandra's spirit, if it still lingers near."

Neeshka sighed. He was, she realised, just trying to do the right thing. It was all he ever tried to do, and she regretted being so hard on him... sometimes, anyway. It no doubt wasn't easy for Casavir, travelling with Kail, abandoning his oaths to Neverwinter, watching Bishop slowly worm his way closer to the women he himself cared for.

"Look. I'm sorry for snapping. It's just that... everything seems to be going wrong. Khelgar's drunk in the inn. Grobnar won't speak to anyone. Sand's gone so sarcastic that it's impossible to get a word in edgewise. Bishop's disappeared to Tymora knows where. Elanee's gone all mopey and depressed in her grove. Zhjaeve has been meditating _all morning_. I constantly have to keep my eye on that little worm, Veedle. Kana keeps asking me what I think Kail would do about things. I just... I can't make any more decisions. I can't take anything else on. I just can't. How in the hells, pardon my language, did Kail manage all of this?"

"With a lot of patience, I suspect," Casavir mused.

"I honestly had no idea it was this bad. Really. I mean, all the worry, all the stress, all the responsibility... and I'm not even the one fated to save the world from an evil mindless entity of destruction."

"Might I make a few suggestions?"

"As long as they don't involve me praying to Tyr, suggest away."

"If you are worried about Master Veedle, post somebody trustworthy to guard the door to the Suite. Tell Kana that she's already been running this place whilst Kail has been away on tasks of her own, and that she can continue to do so without input from you. Tell Sal to cut Khelgar off, allow Zhjaeve, Elanee and Sand to come out of their bad moods on their own, be a friend to Grobnar but do not expect him to get over the loss of Shandra right away, and don't give Bishop a second thought."

"Easy for you to say, but when I start telling people what to do I get 'Yes, but would would _Kail_ do?'. It's enough to drive a person mad." That _would_ at least explain why Kail seemed to be slowly being driven to the edge of sanity. And on top of everything happening here, which was on par for usual, she had to worry about training the 'cloaks, about patrols around the land, about merchants coming to the Keep, about being under the influence of straaange Rituals of Purification, and the sword shard in her chest, and the dragon fire and the Bhaalspawn taint and the occasional berserking and the fact that she had lost everybody in the world she had ever loved and given herself a really bad haircut.

"You'll manage. We all have to do our bit. As for the memorial... I will hold it this evening, at sundown. Although we have no body to burn, we can still speak about Shandra, share our memories and experiences of her. Will you say a few words?"

"Yes, of course."

"Thank you. I will see you later."

"What, don't you want to come and help me arrange stuff? All those things you talked about?"

"No, I have a memorial service to organise." He sighed. "And Kail has given me the task of protecting Ammon Jerro from any Greycloaks who might feel the need to exact revenge for Shandra's death."

"Kail... wants you to protect one of the most powerful warlocks of the Sword Coast -- a man who has enslaved some of the most powerful demons and devils of the Nine Hells and the Abyss -- from a group of farmers who can't tell the blunt end of the sword from the pointy end?" she asked skeptically.

"Perhaps you would like to ensure his safety, instead...?"

"No, no no. You're right, you should do it, it's the perfect job for you. I'd probably just kill Jerro myself simply to get out of guarding him."

She hurried away down the corridor before he could object. At least talking to him had given her an idea. She knew the _perfect_ person, so to speak, to guard Kail's room.

o - o - o - o - o

The dungeon... or _cellar_, as Kail preferred to call it, was silent as Neeshka crept down the stairs. Silence was not a good sign. Normally Grobnar's workshop was full of sounds, and smells, and flashing lights. There were explosions on an almost daily basis.

"Grobnar?" she called.

"Through here."

She made her way past rows and rows of glass tubes, winding her body around the plethora of tables. The experiments on them appeared quite varied; some held mechanical contrivances, others held fauna, others held cages of white mice and the occasional pigeon. When she finally found Grobnar he was obscured partially by a tall pile of books. In front of him was a strange machine, into which he as pouring molten metal. His eyes were covered by glass goggles, hopefully for his protection rather than as part of some insane vision-enhancing experiment.

"What are you doing?" she asked as he closed the lid on the machine.

"Oh, just making some more bolts for the Rapid-fire Accu-aim Mini Pneumatic crossbow," he said. Beside him, on the counter, were six large boxes of the bolts.

"For the RAMP? How long have you been at this?"

"I don't know. For this long, I suppose," he said, gesturing at the boxes.

"Er, right. Well, I don't want to disturb you, but I need your help."

"I'm sure somebody else can help you. All I can do is fix things. But I can't fix everything. I couldn't fix Ember, or West Harbor, or Shandra."

"You're too hard on yourself," she said, sitting on the stool beside him. "What I need your help for... it's something that will help Kail."

"Really?" he asked, perking up a little.

"Yes. You see, Master Veedle keeps sending people to her Suite, to make what he considers 'improvements'. Kail doesn't want that, she wants him to spend his money and resources on bolstering the defences of the Keep. So I would like to use Mister Pointy to..."

"To help rebuild the Keep?" smiled Grobnar. "Why, that's a marvellous idea. Golems are quite adept at manual labour, you know."

"Actually, I was hoping Mister Pointy could guard the door to Kail's room. You know, stop Veedle and his men from getting in? He's such a large and imposing golem, after all."

"You're right. He'd be much better at guarding than at building. It shouldn't be too difficult to alter his runes slightly. You'll have to give me an hour or two, though. Right now the only commands he's really familiar with are 'kill' and 'for the love of the gods, stop killing'. I had some luck in getting him to follow Kail around for a short time, but actually guarding something with non-lethal force... my, yes, that will be a challenge."

"Thanks. You've done me a huge favour. And Kail, too. Will you bring Mister Pointy up when you've finished adjusting him?"

"Yes, yes. Leave it with me, I'll have him sorted in eight and a half jiffies."

"Er, right. And Grobnar, before I forget... we're having a memorial service for Shandra tonight. Probably in the courtyard. I'll be there, and so will Casavir, and Khelgar, and the Greycloaks who she helped train. Will you come? Maybe say a few words? I think Shandra would like that."

"Yes... yes, I'll be there," he said. "I think it's what Shandra would want."

"Good. And thanks again. I'll be in the tavern if you need me."

o - o - o - o - o

Inside the tavern, Khelgar was slumped over the bar. His snores were loud, like the growl of some fierce creature, and they echoed around the empty room. Neeshka didn't even bother tiptoeing past him. She knew from past experience that nothing would wake him now. Instead, she lifted the hinge of the bar and made her way into the back room.

As she walked along the corridor, the aroma of cooking food made her stomach rumble. So far she hadn't had time for breakfast. As soon as she had woken she had gone to Kail's room, to see her friend off. Shortly after that chaos had ensued. Now it was past midday, and she suspected it would be a while before she had time to sit and eat.

In the kitchen a plethora of women were cooking over stoves, rolling bread on counters and chopping vegetables and meat on tables. _Well now... isn't __**this**__ a surprise,_ Neeshka thought to herself. Sal was loathe to let anybody else into his kitchen. Back in Neverwinter, he'd even tried his best to keep Duncan out of the kitchen of the Flagon, and Duncan _owned_ the place. The only person able to safely enter the kitchen had been Kail; Sal had a soft spot for her.

"Hello Neeshka, what can I do for you?" asked a very harassed-looking Sal. His forehead was glistening with perspiration and he wiped a damp cloth across is.

"Er... what's going on?" she asked.

"Casavir came by and mentioned the memorial we're having tonight for Shandra. I still can't believe she's gone... such a lovely lass. It's a real shame. A real shame."

"Yes, it is."

"Anyway, he said we'd need a feast, to remember her by. He asked me to sort something out, and I had to bring some of the women down from the Keep to help. I'm expecting a big turn-out for the funeral... I couldn't have done all the cooking myself, I just don't have enough hands for it."

"Now it seems you have too many. Don't let them spoil the broth," she grinned.

"I'm laughing on the inside," he said drily.

"I just came to ask you to cut Khelgar off. I think he's had enough to drink."

"Already did. Don't be too hard on him, though. Losing a friend... it can make you go crazy, it can. Everybody deals with loss in their own way. I'm just glad nobody else wanted to drink themselves into a stupor."

"Yeah. Thanks. Have you seen Qara or Bishop recently?"

"Nope. Last time I saw Bishop was last night. Haven't seen Qara since then, either. Maybe they've run off together."

"Chance would be a fine thing. But I doubt it _very_ much. If you see either of them, will you tell them I'm looking for them?"

"Sure thing. Where can they find you?"

"Only the gods know," she sighed.

"Ah, one of those days, is it?"

"I get the feeling I'm going to be having a few of 'those days'."

Sal was called away by one of the cooks and Neeshka made her way out of the inn. Glancing around she caught sight of Elanee, and made her way over to the newly formed druid grove. It wasn't much to look at, yet. The trees that had been planted were young and they swayed unsteadily in the wind. Elanee herself was seated cross-legged on the ground, her eyes closed and her back straight.

"Can I borrow you for a second, tree-hugger?" she asked, crouching down beside the woman.

"I am busy," said Elanee.

"Really? Because it looks to me like you're just sitting around doing nothing whilst everyone else is working their asses off to get ready for Shandra's memorial tonight."

"It may seem that way to you, but it is an indication of your own ignorance."

"Oh, right. My ignorance. Well, I'm sorry if I interrupted your _moping_. I mean, Shandra died, Kail's gone off to Neverwinter, the King of Shadows grows stronger by the day, and it's the end of your world because you've not managed to get into Casavir's pants yet. Give me a moment, I'll go and get my violin."

Elanee opened her eyes and Neeshka jumped back. The look in them was murderous; it was almost the same look that Kail had given to Moira, right before beating the thief to death with her bare hands. It was the look in Kail's eyes as she had put Qara into an arm lock and held a knife to the sorceress' neck. And now it was in Elanee's eyes, too.

"Do you think I am blind?" the woman hissed. "Do you think that I cannot see the troubles around me, or the people struggling to cope with everything that is happening? Do you think that I would put my personal desires above those of our battle against the King of Shadows? Do you think that I would allow my feelings to cloud my judgement and fail in my _duty_?"

"I... I just..."

"How long is it since you last slept?"

"Um... last night?"

"Really? How wonderful for you. We elves do not sleep. We enter what we call 'reverie'. It is a trance-like state of meditation in which we dream our memories, and refresh our bodies and minds. Ever since we returned from West Harbor I have been unable to trance properly. Sometimes I cannot reach reverie at all. Sometimes I reach that point and experience nightmares which wake me. Sometimes, whilst in reverie, I hear the land screaming in pain as if it is being burnt by a terrible fire. If I cannot trance, I cannot refresh my body and mind. I cannot cast spells and I cannot control my shape-shifting abilities. Without my Circle to help me through this I must struggle on, alone, hoping that I will be able to get a single night of what you would refer to as 'sleep'."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. Have you told anybody about this? Kail, or..."

"No. It is nobody's business. It is not yours, either. But do not think I am sitting here idly, brooding or falling to melancholy."

"Couldn't Sand help you?"

"No. He experiences no problems with trance. But he is not a druid. He is not attuned to the land. He cannot hear its screams of pain, its cry for help. I can, and it haunts me constantly."

"Maybe he could help you in another way. Or maybe Grobnar or Aldanon could help you. Perhaps one of them could make you a sleeping potion or something."

"Being unconscious is not the same as being asleep. It is not the same as reverie."

"Oh. Okay. Well... I'll leave you alone then. Just... let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"Bringing an end to the taint, to the King of Shadows, would be a start."

"I'll get right on it," said Neeshka. Elanee closed her eyes, returning to her meditations.

o - o - o - o - o

The library of Crossroad Keep was home to many wondrous tomes. It housed scrolls that had not been seen in public libraries in centuries. And it was protected by the worst kind of guardian an adventurer could ever come across; an eccentric old man. Negotiating the shelves of the library was a test of one's skill and courage. A loud step, a wrong turn, a book put back in the wrong place, was enough to raise the guardian's ire and invoke its attention. So it was with great trepidation that Neeshka crept through the library, her senses strained, her posture poised for flight at a moment's notice.

Her pulse raced, her body pumped full of adrenaline. From one side of the library she heard incoherent mumbling, and took her mirrorscope from her pocket. Carefully, slowly, she angled it around the shelf, checking that the coast was clear. Slowly, silently, she stepped forward, making her way to the safety of the next shelf stack. When she reached it, she sent a silent prayer of thanks to Tymora.

From her vantage point she could see Sand; his head was bent over a book and he made notes with a quill on paper as he read. She made a 'psst' noise at him, and when he failed to respond she picked up a tome and threw it at his head.

"Is there any particular reason for your attempts to distract me from my important research?" he asked, rubbing at the lump forming on his temple.

"Shhh!" she said, pressing her finger over her lips. Then she gestured for him to follow. With a sigh he stood, and she led him out of the library.

"Are we safe?" she asked, once they were clear. "He didn't see me, did he?"

"Who?"

"Aldanon."

"Aldanon is half blind, half deaf and half insane. If he saw you, he probably wouldn't recognise you," said Sand.

"Oh, but he does. Last time I spoke to him he asked me for a sample of my blood. _Blood!_ What would he want with that?!"

"There are many spells involving the use of the vict... ah... subject's... blood. I suspect Aldanon is simply curious about your heritage. Now, is there any particular reason that you have chosen to assault me with literature? What you threw was one of Aldanon's romance novels, by the way. I do not approve of your choice. At the very least you could have hurled something of higher calibre... a spellbook or an ancient manuscript, perhaps."

"I wanted to know if there's any way to help an elf who can't reach reverie."

"None. Elanee must work through her problems on her own."

"You _know_ about it?"

"Of course. She's been cranky and irritable for days. She seems loathe to use her magic except in the direst of circumstances, and she looks like she could use a large cup of cocoa and a hot bath. Unlike Aldanon, I _do_ see what is going on in front of my eyes. My powers of perception are quite acute."

"Have you ever experienced anything like that before?"

"No, for which I am thankful. I'm told that skipping reverie is a horrible experience. Speaking of which, I hear we're holding some sort of funeral service tonight, for Shandra."

"Yes, Casavir is arranging it."

"I look forward to being bored to tears."

"What? Shandra's dead. Don't you care?"

"Of course I care. She was an excellent cook."

"I can't believe you're being so flippant about it!"

"Wherever Shandra is, she is in a better place than here. She no longer has to experience fear, hunger, pain... she no longer has to worry about death. Something that the rest of us still do. Yes, I lament the loss of Shandra, but only her body died. Her soul lives on, elsewhere."

"Would you feel the same way if it was someone who you loved that had died?"

"You have a remarkable imagination, my dear. Do go and put it to good use."

He wandered back into the library, and she decided against following him. Sand was obviously going to be of no use to her. It was a shame that Duncan wasn't here... he was always able to get a rise out of the wizard. Sighing, she turned and made her way through the Keep. Perhaps she would have more luck with Kana.

o - o - o - o - o

Night fell over Crossroad Keep, the darkness pushing back the rays of light as the sun retreated beyond the horizon. Followers of Lathander, Neeshka knew, mourned the loss of the sun, and rejoiced when it returned the following day. What they would do if the sun just failed to show one morning she did not know, nor did she care to find out.

Men and women were gathered in the courtyard, milling around in small groups. They were mostly Greycloaks, though some of the merchants had also turned out. Khelgar was standing by the front steps to the Keep, and Grobnar was beside him. Though Khelgar had sobered up over the past few hours, Grobnar looked no less depressed than the last time Neeshka had seen him.

Elanee, whether she had successfully reached reverie or not, was standing in the shadows, avoiding everybody else. Qara was likewise loitering around the edge if the gathering; Neeshka did not care where the sorceress had been all day, nor did she ask.

Aldanon and Sand made their way out of the Keep, joining Khelgar and Grobnar by the fireside. Zhjaeve made her way through the crowd to stand beside them. Neeshka made a mental tally of the numbers present. It seemed almost all of the Greycloaks had turned out for the service, and most of the Keep's staff as well. It was a shame that Kail could not be here.

As if on cue the bells in the church tower began to toll, and Casavir ascended the Keep's steps. An expectant hush settled over the people gathered, their discussions diluted to whisperings, then muted altogether. Neeshka shivered. The air was cold and her breath frosted as she exhaled. When she was a child it had been fun to take deep breaths in and then out, watching the water vapour in her breath turn to ice crystals in mid-air. Now she wished that it was summer, that this grim service did not have to be carried out in darkness, in cold, in the same conditions that Shandra's body was buried in.

"Thank you all for coming," said Casavir, his voice ringing out clear across the courtyard. "I have never had to do this before, and I don't know what Shandra would want... what she would expect... at a time like this. We have no body to burn or commit to the earth, so I will merely say what I feel is necessary, and then allow everybody else to speak.

"Shandra was a friend. Although I did not know her for very long, I valued her presence and her judgement. She cared about making the realms a safer place. When her farm was destroyed, she could have stayed and rebuilt. Instead she chose to help others. To help Kail. To help each one of you, in our war against our enemy. She was not the first casualty of the war, and she will not be the last. But she is the one I will remember most, because she was a light in the darkness. That light has been extinguished, and we have all suffered because of it." He stepped down, and Grobnar replaced him.

"I thought for a long time about what I would say," said the gnome. "I'm not really good at speeches. I tend to forget them. But one thing that I _am_ good at... or at least I hope so... is music. I have written a song for Shandra, and I hope that wherever she is, she can hear me singing it."

He took out a stringed instrument -- she had no idea of its name, but she rarely cared for how music was played -- and plucked at the strings with his eyes closed. She could tell, already, that it was going to be a sad, tear-jerking song. She bowed her head, hoping that she wouldn't cry.

_"Oh my dear friend, we're at an end_

_Your journey over, now complete_

_I wish you joy, forever after_

_I wish you warmth, a joyous heat._

_You warmed our lives with your presence,_

_You helped us through our darkest times_

_But the one thing I will always remember_

_Is your laughing eyes, your pretty smile._

_Your strength, your courage, was a comfort_

_You never let your good friends down._

_Now you're gone, I'll miss you always,_

_In our tears, our sorrows drown."_

There was quiet applause from the audience, and she noticed tears in more than one set of eyes. Shandra had been loved and appreciated. Why was it that good people suffered? Why wasn't it the bad people who suffered instead?

Movement in one of the Keep windows high above caught her attention; a figure moved, silhouetted by the light behind it. The window, she realised, belonged to Ammon Jerro's room. Was he watching? Had he heard the song? Did he even care that Shandra was dead? If he did, he didn't seem to show it. Why didn't he show it? Was he so inhuman that he couldn't show emotion? Or was he just really, _really_ good at masking it? If so, then Ammon Jerro was not a man to play cards with. She had never, in all her life, seen somebody who was as good at hiding his thoughts and feelings as him.

Shivering, she turned back to the fire. Khelgar was speaking, and she concentrated on his words, dismissing Jerro from her mind. He wasn't her problem. He was Kail's problem. As if the bard didn't have enough of them already.

o - o - o - o - o

The night after Shandra's funeral was as cold and cloudless as the one before. Briefly, Neeshka opened her window, inhaling deeply, tasting the crispness of the air. Yes, there was _definitely_ snow on the way. If not tonight, then tomorrow morning. She just hoped that it wouldn't keep Kail from returning from Neverwinter. The longer Kail stayed away, the more Neeshka realised the Keep _needed_ her.

It needed somebody to tell it how to function. But the people who could tell it how to function needed someone to tell _them_ how to tell it to function. It was a really, really stupid way of running things. But, as far as she could tell, it was the _only_ way of running things. Somebody had to be in charge. Somebody had to make the decisions. Otherwise, it was just anarchy.

Movement from the edge of the forest not far from the Keep caught her attention. Narrowing her eyes, she noticed something large and white emerging from the trees, led by a figure. A horse and its rider. Surely Kail could not be back already?

She quickly pulled on her boots and flew out of her door, jogging down the corridor and ignoring the questions shouted by Greycloaks. Past the Captain's Suite she ran, past Mister Pointy and Master Veedle's apprentice, who was trying unsuccessfully to sneak around the golem's bladed arm.

The stones of the courtyard were slippy underfoot, coated with a fine layer of black ice, and she slowed her pace for a moment. Panting, she ordered the guards to raise the portcullis, watching as the figure drew near. When it entered the Keep, she hissed in vexation.

"Bishop!" she said, stalking angrily in front of him, her tail lashing. "Where have you been?"

"Hunting," he replied.

"You missed Shandra's memorial last night."

"So? She's only been dead for three days. It's not like I've forgotten what she looked like."

She assessed him by the light of the moon; his clothes were clean, unrumpled. He looked tired and chilly, but not as tired and cold as somebody who had been hunting for two days in mid-winter ought to be. There was no blood on his clothes... hunting was quite a bloody sport, she recalled.

"You haven't been hunting. You followed Kail, didn't you? After she told you not to," she accused. His eyes shone angrily in the pale light, yellow-gold like the eyes of a wolf. Possibly a rabid wolf.

"I didn't follow her. I went hunting."

"Then why didn't you catch anything?"

He smiled, a frightening smile, and he turned to the road behind him. It was then she noticed a second figure emerging from the trees. It was a figure clad in a grey cloak, its hood drawn up around its face. She instantly knew that it was a man; he was too broad and tall to be a woman.

"We're going to need to clear the inn for a while," Bishop said.


	77. Survivor

_77. Survivor_

There was at least one blessing to be counted; the inn was empty, apart from Sal. Its main inhabitant, Khelgar, was keeping Grobnar company. It was something Neeshka had asked everybody to take turns at, to help keep the little man's mind occupied. Other than herself, Kail and Bishop, very few people frequented the building. Elanee preferred to spend time in her grove, Zhjaeve and Sand had taken up residence in the library, Casavir had to be _forced_ into what was probably a den of sin in the eyes of Tyr, and Qara had had more than her fill of taverns recently. The sorceress tended to stick to the large, warm dining room of the Keep.

Neeshka looked at the hooded face of the stranger. His eyes were cold and grey... empty. Since she and Bishop had brought him to the inn, he hadn't said a word. He had merely made his way to the fire, staring into the flames. His clothes were brown and grey, rather nondescript. Though he had a sword belted at his waist, he hadn't made any move to touch it. Who was he? Was he an enemy scout? Was he a lost merchant? Was he an adventurer who'd fallen afoul of some spell or other?

"I'm Neeshka," she said to the man. Sal held out a glass of ale to him, but he ignored it. "What's your name?" she asked. "Do you live nearby? Have you come from Leeves, or one of the other hamlets?"

"You're wasting your time," said Bishop. He doffed his cloak and took the ale from Sal, taking a deep draught. "I've been leading him for hours and he's barely said two words."

"He spoke to you?"

"Briefly."

"What did he say?"

"Well, at first he tried to attack me."

"And you let him live?" she asked, feeling an eyebrow rise in surprise.

"Sure thing, vixen. It was a stupidly clumsy attack. I wasn't in danger."

"Oh, great. You have a nickname for me. May I ask what prompted this?"

"Your hair, mostly. Reddish brown... reminds me of a fox. Also, Karnwyr once stole a rabbit from a vixen. She lashed her tail, just like you."

"So after this guy failed to impale you on his sword, what did he say?" she asked, with just a minor glare. And she definitely did _not_ let her tail lash at him.

"He asked me if I knew Kail. Then he asked me... or rather, told me... to take him to her."

"To which you said yes?"

"And why not? I do know her."

"Ever consider that he might be an enemy spy, come to kill Kail?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Firstly, because no assassin would be this inefficient and obvious. Secondly, because if he couldn't kill me, how's he going to get the best of the little wildcat? And thirdly, because he's a survivor from West Harbor."

"What?! What makes you think that?"

"His smell, his accent, the fact that the creatures of Mere didn't eat him for breakfast. Just little hints."

Slowly, she unclenched her fist. This was not a good time to go smacking Bishop for being so casual and arrogant. Plus, he was probably right.

"You owe me an apology, by the way," he said.

"What for?" she asked. He merely looked at her with an even gaze. "Oh fine, I'm sorry for suggesting that you'd run off after Kail like some..."

"Tin-headed sycophant?"

"I was going to go with 'oversexed dog', but that will do, I suppose."

"Apology accepted. I'll have another ale, Sal."

As Sal wandered back to the bar with a grumble, Neeshka turned back to the stranger. She reached up, as slowly and non-threateningly as possible, and pulled back his hood. His hair was brown and dirty, as if it hadn't been washed in days. Hells, even _Bishop_ managed to be cleaner than the stranger.

"You asked for Kail," Neeshka said.

"Where is she?" the man croaked.

"She went to Neverwinter."

"I have to go to her," he said, moving away from the fire.

"Wait a minute!" She grasped his sleeve, preventing him from stepping further. "Why do you need to find her?"

"I... I have to tell her. About... her father. About everyone."

In the darkness of the tavern, lit mainly by firelight, he looked like he was about to cry. Her heart went out to him; he reminded her so much of Kail, when she had been grieving for West Harbor. Only, she suspected she wouldn't be able to help him as she had helped Kail. He probably wouldn't appreciate being taken outside to the training ground and being beaten black and blue.

"She already knows," said Bishop, accepting ale from Sal. "We were there, after it happened."

"She... she knows?" asked the man, even closer to tears. "Oh, that's not good. I should have been the one to tell her. After Amie, after everything that happened when they came for that shard... how... how did you find out? Why were you there? Was she coming back to us?"

"Will you tell us your name, first?" Neeshka asked as gently as she could. She gestured for Sal to bring a chair, and she gently pushed the stranger down onto it.

"Bevil. My name's Bevil."

"Well met, Bevil. I'm Neeshka, and this is Bishop." She kicked the ranger's shin, and he grunted.

"Yes, yes, well met," he said, taking his usual seat by the fire so he could watch Bevil as he talked.

"Are you... are you Kail's friends?"

"Yes, we are," Neeshka smiled, trying to put him at ease. He'd obviously been through a lot. She mouthed 'food' at Sal, and he returned to the kitchen.

"Good. I'm glad. She never really had friends, apart from me and Amie. Ward Mossfield called her wild and dangerous once."

"She is," said Bishop. Bevil frowned at him, and Neeshka hissed at the idiot and his big mouth.

"He means that in a good way," she said, patting Bevil's arm.

"She was really angry," he replied, his eyes glazing as if reliving a memory. "She got really angry and beat Webb Mossfield because he was picking on Amie. Ward told everyone she was wild, dangerous, an animal. And then later, when we were fighting githyanki, Tarmas said it was in her blood."

"Said _what_ was in her blood?" Neeshka asked cautiously, watching Bishop out of the corner of her eye. As far as was aware, he knew nothing about the Bhaalspawn taint. If this... Tarmas... had surmised something... it wouldn't do to have Bevil talking to people about it.

"Being a wolf," said Bevil, and she let out a sigh of relief.

"Shock and stress," Bishop snorted.

"Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot, like I'm not even here," said Bevil angrily. "You don't know what it's like, coming home to find no home. Everything, gone, ruins, and nothing left of the people, nothing left of the people you cared for. My mother... she was heart-broken when my brother died. I thought she'd never stop crying."

"Your mother survived West Harbor too?" Neeshka asked. She subjected Bishop to her best questioning glance, but he merely shrugged his shoulders.

"No... no, this was before. I heard what happened, I heard how he nearly killed Kail. I... I wanted to see her, to tell her that I don't blame her for it. I would have never forgiven my brother if he'd killed my friend. Lucas said that she tried to do the right thing, that she tried to let him live, and that he nearly killed her for it."

"Lucas? You mean... you're Lorne Starling's brother?" she asked, suddenly worried. What if he was lying? What if he really hadn't forgiven Kail? What if he wanted to take revenge?

"I was. I'm not anybody's brother now. I'm not anybody's son. I'm just nobody. Everybody is gone."

"Bevil, tell me what happened. How did you come to escape West Harbor when everybody else was killed?"

"You think I'm working for them, don't you? You think I'm a collaborator, that I did it to save my own skin." His voice was angry, and she realised that Bishop was partially right. This man might not be in shock, but he'd suffered a great deal of stress. He looked cold, hungry and tired.

"No, of course not. I know that the people of West Harbor fought against the githyanki. Kail told me all about it. She was proud of everybody, how they all worked together, how they survived. I just want to know what happened to you after you survived West Harbor."

He began to laugh hysterically, then tears fell from his eyes. It was as if somebody had flipped a switch; his body relaxed, the tension gone, and he leant forward in his chair, holding his face in his hands as he sobbed quietly. Bishop tapped her arm, gesturing to the other side of the room.

"That is a broken man," he said quietly.

"And it surprises you? You remember what Kail was like after West Harbor? How she hurt herself? How she went away in her mind into some...waking coma? Even now, she's not the same person she once was. You can't even mention music to her without her glaring at you. She refuses to touch an instrument or sing a song or write a poem. It's like half of her died that day. I get the feeling that..."

"That..?" he prompted when she hesitated.

"That she only came back to fight the King of Shadows. I'm afraid that once she's done it, she'll go away again. To somewhere that nobody can follow."

"Maybe you should be telling this to somebody who cares," he yawned. Or tried to. He was cut off in mid yawn by the flat of her hand slapping the back of his head, and he yelped, more in surprise than pain. "What was that for?"

"Being a pig-headed bastard."

"I've always been a pig-headed bastard. You've never slapped me for it before," he said, affecting a look of hurt and confusion. Deciding that he was probably the stupidest man in the realms -- right beside Casavir -- and therefore not worthy of her attention, she turned back to Bevil. His sobbing had subsided somewhat and he rubbed at his eyes with the back of a dirty sleeve. She wished she had a handkerchief to give him. Women were supposed to be good at providing handkerchiefs and comfort to upset people. This was just entirely out of her realm of experience. Luckily, Sal was on hand to save the day.

"I've made you some potato and herb soup," he said, bringing a tray with a dish on it to Bevil. "Well, I warmed it up, anyway. It's one of Kail's favourites... she taught me the recipe in fact."

"I remember," said Bevil. He accepted the tray and lifted the spoon, tasting the thick soup. "It's just right. Kail always made the best soup. I mean makes! She makes the best soup. Gods, why am I talking about her as if she's dead?"

Neeshka glared at Bishop before he could open his mouth, then crouched on the floor in front of Bevil. Some of the colour had returned to his cheeks, his eyes were no longer empty, and he looked a lot warmer than he had been.

"Bevil, will you tell me what happened? To West Harbor, and to you?" she asked earnestly.

"I... I don't know what happened. Not really. I... Tarmas, the wizard. A few days before it happened, he got really nervous. _Really_ nervous. He just packed up and said he was leaving for somewhere safer. He tried to talk my mother and me into leaving with him, but we just thought he was crazy. I... I wasn't there, when it was happened. I was out in the Mere."

"Doing what?" Bishop asked. Neeshka narrowed her eyes at him, but his question at least _seemed_ to be genuine.

"I... I just needed to get away from everything. Everyone. Their eyes, always watching, always staring. It was horrible. I wanted to be alone. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"No, of course not," she said soothingly. She sensed that it wasn't a good idea to push him; he was obviously nervous about something, but of course that could simply have been because of the harrowing experience of finding his village in ruins.

"I went into the Mere, but not my usual way. The paths... they've gotten so dark. Even the lizardmen don't walk them anymore. When we were little, Kail and I, and sometimes Amie too, we sometimes went to the old Illefarn ruins. Playing games. Hide and Seek, and Hunt. But I didn't go that way, that day. I went north, around the edge. I don't know why. I... I travelled for longer than usual. I stayed in the Mere overnight, in a tiny cave I found. When I came home... everything was gone. My house... my mother... my brother and sister. Nobody was left. They even killed my dogs."

"What happened to you after that?"

"I don't remember much. I wandered around for a while. I didn't know where to go. I've never been out of the Mere. Not like Kail. She's been to see the Wild Elves, you know."

"Yes, I know," she smiled.

"I thought I should go to Fort Locke. But I got lost. The Mere seemed all twisty. Things were different... it was like the water had risen and covered up old paths. But in other place the water level had lowered, showing new ones. And I could see dead people, everywhere. The elves and the orcs and everybody... when the water receded it left their bones on the ground." He shivered.

"Don't think about it."

"Why did you bring me here? Why didn't you take me to Neverwinter? To Kail?" Bevil asked, turning to face Bishop. "Her father sent here there to speak to her uncle."

"Because the little wildcat runs this Keep. She's gone back to Neverwinter for a couple of days, then she'll come right back here."

"She... runs the Keep? Why? And why do you call her that?"

"She runs the Keep," Neeshka interjected before Bishop could reply, "because Lord Nasher asked her to. Because we have to use this place as a base to launch an attack against the King of Shadows."

"That old sorcerer who destroyed West Harbor over twenty years ago?"

"Er... not exactly," she said hesitantly. How did you explain to someone in Bevil's condition, who had at best a tenuous grasp on reality, that the last time the King of Shadows had touched the realm, its battle with Ammon Jerro had resulted in West Harbor's destruction. But now Ammon Jerro was on their side, fighting against the King of Shadows. Which was actually a corrupted Guardian of the ancient Illefarn Empire hell-bent on destroying the Sword Coast because it thought it was protecting the long-dead Empire.

"You have horns. And a tail," he said, apparently seeing her for the first time.

"Yes, I'm a tiefling. One of my ancestors was a demon or devil. But I'm not one. I'm just Neeshka. Kail saved my life, outside of Fort Locke. She's a good friend to me."

"And what are you?" Bevil asked Bishop.

"I'm nobody. Just like you."

"And I'm Sal," the innkeeper said. "I run this place."

"What did you do in West Harbor, Bevil?" Neeshka asked. "Were you a farmer?"

"No. I was never any good with plants. They always died. I was in the militia. Mostly we scouted the Mere, tracking lizardling movements, making sure the village was safe. I was never very good at tracking, though. Not as good as Georg or Daeghun. I always preferred fighting."

"Will you excuse us for a moment?" she asked, gesturing for Bishop to follow her. Even when she moved to the other side of the room, she kept her voice low. "You're going to have to keep an eye on him. Make sure he's okay and that he doesn't do anything stupid."

"Keep your own damn eye on him," he replied.

"I can't. I have too much to do, Keep-wise."

"Then get someone else to do it."

"There is nobody else. Casavir's watching out for Ammon and Khelgar's keeping Grobnar company. Unless you'd rather do _that_? No, I thought not. Anyway, I wouldn't trust Casavir with Bevil."

"Yeah, I always thought he seemed more interested in men than women. It's typical of holy types."

"What I mean is, Bevil might talk about Kail. Anecdotes about her childhood, what things she likes, and so forth. Casavir would totally use information like that to get closer to Kail."

"For a thief, you're pretty transparent. But if it will stop you talking, I'll watch the kid. Just don't expect me to be sir chatty and polite. And don't expect me to baby-sit him. I'm not burping him after everything he eats."

"Thank you for that extremely disturbing mental image," she said, closing her eyes and shuddering. "Now, I'm going to go and let Kana and everyone else know to expect a new face around here. But I'll tell them Bevil isn't to be harassed or interrogated."

"Fine. You do that. I'll just sit here, drinking ale and watching the kid mope."

Outside the inn, she shivered. The weather was horribly cold... too cold to be traipsing around the courtyard. She wanted to be back in the Flagon, soaking in the bath tub, listening to Kail play music. But she doubted that would ever happen again. Her memories were of simpler, happier times. Now there was little happiness at all in Kail's life.


	78. Long Roads

_78. Long Roads_

There were both advantages and disadvantages to riding, when compared to walking. The main advantage was speed; though a horse walked at the same pace as a person, it could trot for longer periods than a person could jog. When short, fast bursts of speed were needed, a horse could canter or gallop far faster than a human could run. In addition, riding allowed a person to conserve their own energy reserves. Because the rider was not the one doing all the hard work, he or she did not require as much food or sleep.

The disadvantages quickly negated the advantages. Because the rider wasn't doing work, they grew cold quickly, especially on a horse's back, which was higher above ground level than a person walking under their own impetus. And, as Kail was quickly coming to realise, saddle-sores were another major problem to those not used to travelling the equine way. In the few hours since leaving the keep, her muscles had seized up, her back had become sore, and she was sure she would never be able to sit on a chair again. And it wasn't even lunch time yet.

When a cold gust of wind tried to send its icy fingers down the back of her shirt, she buttoned her cloak right up to her chin, turning up the collar to keep out the worst of the breeze. The pace of one horse in front of her, Sir Nevalle was also looking quite chilly. His skin was a paler shade than normal, and his eyes looked pinched after hours of squinting in the cold.

The land around the road was quiet. Kail knew that many animals would now be hibernating; mammals like bears and hedgehogs would be sleeping snug and sound in their caves or piles of leaves. Only the hardiest of the birds were left, or those which could find enough food to see them through the winter. The rest had flown away to warmer climes, to weather out the worst of the winter by avoiding it entirely.

The trees, lining the road and spreading away into the distance, were bare. To Kail, it seemed like only yesterday that she had been remarking on the beautiful colour of autumn trees to her friends. How long ago had it really been? Weeks? If that. How had winter managed to take hold so quickly? It wasn't as if it had snuck in, heralded by cold, fresh mornings, the type of mornings in which she used to pick the last of the season's berries and mushrooms with Amie. No, the winter had just... happened. One day it was not winter, and then it simply was. Was that how the King of Shadows worked, too? Did he -- or it, as she now knew -- move like the winter, swooping in when everybody's guard was down? Did it overwhelm by sheer force before anybody could even think of opposing it?

"I get the feeling you don't like me very much, Captain," said Nevalle, breaking her out of her reverie. They were the first words he had spoken all morning.

"What makes you think that?"

"We've been riding in silence for hours. You rarely talk to me, and when you do, it's as if somebody's having to force you to do it. You don't seem to care for my opinion, and you appear not to like me having one."

"It's not you that I don't like," she assured him. "It's what you stand for."

"What I stand for?"

"Blind obedience."

"So you've spoken to me all of half a dozen times and have summed up my entire life in the span of a few moments of observation? I suppose you yourself have never been unquestioningly obedient to anybody?"

"No. All the people who wanted or expected my obedience also encouraged me to ask questions. I might be obedient, but not blindly."

"What you call 'blind obedience', I call 'experience'. I've learnt that there are times when questions are unwarranted, when it is best to act immediately without question or hesitation. Not because I follow blindly, but because I've learnt from my past mistakes. You will come to understand all of this, in time."

"I don't want to understand it." She knew as she said it that she sounded sulky, but couldn't help herself.

"But you must. How will you be able to lead an army against the King of Shadows if you cannot give orders that others do not question? In the heat of battle will you stop to answer moral dilemmas posed by your soldiers? Do you expect to have your every decision questioned, picked apart and held up for you to be accountable for? When you order Kana to send men on patrols or missions, do you tell her your logic and the reasoning behind your orders? Or do you expect her, and the soldiers carrying out the commands, to trust that you know best, that you would not put them unnecessarily in harm's way, and that if you are going to gamble with their lives, it will at least be for a good cause?"

Oh gods, it was true. Every word of it. She was slowly coming to embody the very thing that she hated. Nothing gave her the right to give orders and expect obedience. She had had no training for this, had always avoided politics, had never sought power for herself. All she had ever wanted was freedom to do as she pleased, to be beholden to nobody.

Was this how it was for everybody who led? Had Georg wanted to be the defacto mayor of West Harbor, as well as leader of its militia? Everybody had turned to him, for help and advice. They had turned to him to tell them how to be safe, how to survive. But had anybody ever _asked_ him if he wanted that responsibility? Or had he simply accepted leadership graciously, taking the responsibility on himself to save others from having to do it? What would Georg say to her, if he were still alive?

_Sometimes you just have to do the job that's in front of you without complaining about it. If we all sat around complaining, nothing would ever get done. We Harbormen aren't like that. We get things done, because we can't afford to be slow and complacent._

She could hear his words in her mind as clearly as if he was walking right beside her. And his words were right, whether they came from him or not. She was, she realised, caught in a circle. Something happened and she got depressed about it. She rebelled against her current situation, then came to realise that she just had to put her head down and work though her problems. Then another, somewhat bigger problem cropped up. It had started with the attack on her village. She didn't want to go to Neverwinter, to leave West Harbor, but her father had convinced her that it was necessary. Then the whole 'shards' thing. She hadn't wanted them. She just wanted somebody to take them from her. And yet, when Zeeaire had tried it, and almost killed her in the process, she had realised that she had to keep them. From there came looking after Shandra, becoming Captain of Crossroad Keep, and eventually having to save everybody from the King of Shadows. Where would it end?

There was a cry for help along the road. Nevalle's reflexes were faster than hers, or he had been paying more attention. He spurred his horse on, asking for a gallop, and Wind sprang forward to give chase before she could respond. Not even trying to slow down, she crouched over the horse's neck, her eyes streaming as the cold wind rushed past.

As they reached the source of the sounds, Nevalle drew his sword and slowed his horse to a canter. But he did not dismount as he struck out with his weapon, beheading a troll that was attacking a Greycloak scouting party. Kail assessed the situation, slowed her horse and dismounted. She had no idea how to fight from horseback; her own style favoured accuracy, in the case of her throwing knives, and agility, in the case of her sword and dagger. It was the latter she drew as she advanced on another troll, slashing at its back to try and sever its vertebrae and bring its head down to her height.

The Greycloaks seemed to take heart from having allies; they pushed forward, bringing the other two trolls to their knees and decapitating them. It was one of the few ways to ensure that a troll stayed dead. Other methods involved fire and acid, both of which were more messy and dangerous than simply lopping off a head.

Panting with exertion, she turned to face the Greycloaks, and they saluted her. She had to resist the urge to cringe inside. She didn't _want_ people saluting her. She wasn't Nevalle or Brelaina, or someone who expected it.

"Captain!" said the highest ranked 'Cloak. "We weren't expecting you out here."

"I'm just passing by," she explained as Wind made his way back to her. He was _very_ well-trained

"Thank the gods you were. We were patrolling and came across this troll nest. If you hadn't come along we never would have survived."

"Have some faith in your own skills," she said, sheathing her weapons. "You can resume your patrol now."

"Yes ma'am," he saluted. The soldiers filed away and Nevalle approached, still mounted.

"Well done, Captain," he said.

"Well done?" She hauled herself into her saddle, settling Wind with a touch of the reins.

"You've saved your men and reassured them after a difficult fight."

"That wasn't difficult," she snorted. "And don't try to tell me that you thought it was. I'm sure slaying the odd troll or two is all in a day's work for a member of the Nine."

"True. They can't really compare to dealing with merchants and nobles in the courts. I'd take the trolls any day. Ah, so you _do_ smile. I was beginning to think it was just a myth."

"I wasn't smiling. I was grimacing. I have troll-blood on my shirt," she assured him, making sure she definitely _wasn't_ smiling.

"Right. Well, let's get back to the road. We don't want to keep Lord Nasher waiting, do we?"

"Perish the thought."

o - o - o - o - o

People waved. Children ran around Wind, shouting greetings up to her. It seemed everywhere she went, she was recognised. Even after being gone for a few weeks, people still remembered her. Merchants called out well-wishes to her, even the ones she had never done business with.

"It's been a long time since Neverwinter had a hero," Nevalle remarked.

"I'm not a hero. I was just doing what had to be done."

"Sometimes, they're the same thing."

"And sometimes the person who was doing what had to be done ends up as the villain. Like Ammon Jerro."

"He did what he thought was right, even if it was wrong. That doesn't excuse his actions, only his motives."

Kail said nothing. Life was, she was quickly coming to realise, far more complicated than anybody had ever told her. At first she had considered Ammon Jerro's actions evil. But in his situation, would she have done any different? She had already killed people who stood in her way. Like Ammon, she believed that she was doing the right things. Would these people, smiling at her, judge her the same way they would judge Jerro? If Lord Nasher had found her guilty of the slaughter of Ember, would that have made _her_ the villain and _Lorne_ the hero? If this was the sort of deep soul searching and moralising that one had to partake of whilst in the service of Neverwinter, Casavir had done right in leaving.

"Why do you do it?" she asked as they stopped their horses outside Castle Never.

"Do what?" replied Nevalle. He tossed his reins to a stable-hand, and she did the same.

"Put me up on a pedestal. Parade me through Neverwinter and tell people that I'm a hero. Give me a Keep and lands and a title, and tell them I'm going to save them. Why do you make them believe in me?"

"Everybody wants somebody to believe in, Kail."

"Then why not make them believe in you, or Nasher?"

"That only works so many times," he said wryly. "Lord Nasher held the people together through the plague and a war with Luskan. But they know that this is something different. They know that a shadow is rising, and that it's going to take more than Lord Nasher to stop it. They know that you are a woman from, if you'll pardon the expression, a humble background, and that you have won every challenge issued to you by our enemies. You have captured their hearts and their imaginations. Seeing you, knowing that you are doing something, gives them hope."

"But they don't even know me. I'm not some righteous knight or paladin who can be a bastion of light for them. They could at least have chosen to believe in someone who has faith in the things that Neverwinter stands for, such as justice and faith."

Nevalle stopped her as they entered the Castle, one hand on her shoulder. His expression was... not exactly angry, but sad, and resigned.

"The last person they put their faith in," he quietly, "was a bastion of goodness and light. She believed in justice, and she had faith. Her name was Aribeth de Tylmarande, and she was a good friend of mine. But the faith she had, she lost. Her belief in justice turned to bitterness and resentment, and in the end, she betrayed Neverwinter. I don't want to put you on a pedestal, because I know how easy it is for somebody, even somebody who believed as Aribeth did, to fall off, hurting not only themselves but everyone around them. I'm not blind. I know you don't have faith in our system, in justice. I know you don't care for the nobles and their riches. But that's not necessarily a bad thing. The people loved Aribeth because she could be gentle with them when Lord Nasher had to be stern. You are not her, no, and the people of Neverwinter don't see you as such. They see you as somebody who is like them. Somebody who has risen from ignoble roots to become a hero. Somebody who did it entirely on their own, without faith in a god or a city or a lord; only faith in herself. And because they see you have faith in yourself, they have faith in themselves too."

"Where I come from, everything was black and white. Here... it's all grey," she sighed.

"When black and white is all you've ever known, you don't see the grey. But it's always there."

He continued on through the Castle, and she followed him. The people in Castle Never, it seemed, rarely changed. There were guards, merchants and nobles, the latter two groups mingling cautiously with each other, like two packs of wolves sniffing each other out. The guards of Castle Never itself wore dark plate armour with fine gold detail and helmets that swept regally back over their faces. Guards of the nobles and merchants, on the other hand, were somewhat plainer, sometimes without armour at all. Occasionally their cloaks or shields bore crests and insignia, but compared to Castle Never's guards they looked drab.

"Are you going to give me some clue about why Lord Nasher has summoned me?" Kail asked at last. "I don't want to go in there without at least some idea of why I'm meeting him."

"Lord Nasher wishes to knight you."

"Well he can... what?! He can't do that!"

"Of course he can. He's the Lord of Neverwinter. He can knight whoever he chooses."

"But... I don't want to be a knight. I'm not shiny enough," she said feebly. She was quickly getting the feeling that events were going to spiral once again out of her control. It was a familiar feeling, like a prickly heat that started in her stomach and slowly made its way up to her head.

Nevalle merely chuckled, and gestured for her to enter a room. Inside there was only a single chest, and from this he took a cloak and a sword in a scabbard. The cloak he wrapped around her shoulders after removing her old plain one, and the sword and scabbard he handed to her.

"This sword is ceremonial. You must keep hold of it until we meet Lord Nasher, and then you will give it to him. He will knight you with it. Most knights keep their ceremonial swords on display, afterwards. You can put yours on the wall of your Suite in Crossroad Keep, or use it if you prefer."

"And then what? What will I need to do?"

"After that, Lord Nasher will..."

Sir Nevalle was cut off in mid-sentence by a screeching sound that pierced the quietness of the castle. Kail covered her ears; the sound persisted for a full minute, then was abruptly cut off.

"What was that?" she asked, her ears still ringing from the pervasive noise.

"It was the Castle's ancient alarm, designed to activate when Castle Never has been infiltrated by enemies of Neverwinter," he said grimly. He drew his sword and stalked towards the door. "Follow me. Stay close."

With a cold, sinking feeling in her heart, she followed him, slipping the scabbard of the sword onto her belt as she walked. Then she drew the sword into her right hand and her knife into her left hand. Outside, in the main chamber hall, she found bedlam.

The enemies were not Luskans, as she had been expecting, but vampires, ghouls and wraiths. How in Shaundakul's name had _undead_ managed to infiltrate Castle Never? She didn't have time to wonder for long. Nevalle rushed into the fray, and Kail followed him, selecting one of the ghouls to fight. Beside her, guards of both the Castle and the nobles were fighting for their lives, whilst the nobles and merchants, unarmed and inexperienced in the ways of combat, stood as far away from the fighting as they possibly could.

Two of the guards fell, injured too badly to rise. The undead turned to other guards, starting to wear down their defences. Nevalle, meanwhile, was battling a vampire that had been trying to reach the merchants. When another guard fell, Kail realised they were losing the fight. She had to end this quickly.

Zhjaeve had told her what the powers of the Ritual of the Purification could do. One of the abilities could infuse her weapons, and those of anybody else she chose, with the power of Illefarn. The empowered weapons were then particularly powerful against creatures of shadow. The down side, Zhjaeve had informed her, was that the more weapons she chose to empower, the faster her strength would drain.

Another ability of the ritual allowed her to heal herself and her allies once a day, washing away tiredness and any injuries caused by exposure to the negative energy plane, which was where most undead drew their non-life from. Again, the more people she chose to heal, the more drained she would become, and she could not bring back to life anybody who had died; only a priest could do that.

The third ritual ability could actually protect her and her allies from negative energy, conveying protection from the life-draining attacks of some creatures such as vampires and wraiths. Again, the ability lasted for only a short period of time, and the more people she tried to protect, the faster her own strength and energy would drain. The people of Illefarn, it seemed, were cautious with their gifts -- though their Ritual of Purification could be used to destroy the King of Shadows, they obviously hadn't wanted any one person to be given the amount of power needed to stop the Guardian without some sort of safety check being put in place. The abilities of the Ritual were powerful, but of short duration. A trade-off, of sorts.

The fourth power, Zhjaeve had said, allowed her to create an area of pure light that damaged undead creatures caught within it. Again, the power lasted only for a short time, a matter of mere seconds, but she knew that it was enough to seriously harm any undead she was fighting that were clustered together in a small area. Such as the vampires and wraiths that were harassing Nevalle, the guards and the merchants.

Though Zhjaeve had never told her _how_ to activate the powers -- they hadn't had time to properly discuss it, with everything that had happened at West Harbor and Ammon's Haven -- Kail knew that it was possibly her only chance to end the fight quickly. She moved in to range, close to Nevalle, and concentrated on the fourth power, the one that would allow her to burn her undead foe, not unlike a cleric channelling energy from the positive energy plane.

Compared to her dragon fire ability, and her berserking, using the powers of the Ritual of Purification was simple. As she thought of the power she wanted, she felt a light ripple of energy through her body, and then the light was there, all around her, burning her enemies. Some of the wraiths and all of the ghouls were destroyed outright, whilst the remaining wraiths and vampires turned in fear, fleeing towards the exits. They were cut down before they reached them by Castle Never's guards, heartened at the sight of their fleeing foes.

Kail turned to the group of guards and thought of the healing ritual. Again, energy rippled through her body; she felt her own aches and pains of travelling washed away, and the injuries of the guards were healed, flesh knitted back together.

"We need to get to a more defensible position," Nevalle said, breathing heavily. "Everybody, follow me!"

Kail barely even heard him; she merely ran after him, followed by everyone else. As her legs ran, her mind floated, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth. She had been afraid that the Ritual abilities granted to her by the Statues of Purification would be hard to use, like her own innate abilities. She had been afraid that they would change her, twist and corrupt her into something she didn't want to be, as she felt the Bhaalspawn taint doing every day. Instead, the Ritual abilities came almost as naturally as breathing. All she felt when she used them was a ripple of energy, and warmth passing through her body. No need to fight it, no need to resist a taint or a change... it was almost ridiculously easy. How could that be? Things weren't supposed to be easy for her. She was supposed to struggle, to be tested. Had something gone wrong with the Ritual?

Nevalle took them to a guard room, then barred the door once all of the guards and merchants were inside. Kail followed his gaze as he surveyed the survivors; three Castle guards, four merchant guards, six nobles and two merchants. It wasn't much of an army. Not against vampires and wraiths. Nevalle took her to one side, lowering his voice.

"We have to get to Lord Nasher."

"Maybe if we wait here long enough, Lord Nasher will get to us," she shrugged. He shook his head.

"Castle Never is designed to lock itself down when the alarm goes off. Almost every door between here and the throne room will be sealed. Lord Nasher, and anybody inside the room with him, will be stuck there."

"I don't suppose you have the key for these sealed doors?"

"There is no key. The only way to end the lock-down is to kill any enemies of Neverwinter that are within Castle Never."

"So we should go hunting?"

"No. I will go hunting."

"Surely you don't expect me to just sit here and do nothing?"

"Of course not," he smiled. "It's said that when Castle Never's defences are activated, a secret way is opened up. There's an entrance in the main corridor, behind one of the tapestries, that we've never been able to open up. According to records, this entrance leads to underground tunnels..."

"I hate underground tunnels."

"...Which in turn lead to the throne room. If you can get into the tunnels, you should be able to make your way relatively easily to the throne room. Bring Lord Nasher out if you can. If not, wait there. Protect anybody with him until we're able to carve our way through the Castle."

"Are you sure you don't want me carving with you? I mean, the guards didn't do so well against the first assault. I may be of more use to you out here than stuck in some dark, twisty, musty tunnel."

"They caught us by surprise in their initial attack. Now we will be ready for them, and they won't catch us out a second time."

"Alright then. Show me this entrance."

o - o - o - o - o

Kail didn't mind darkness. She didn't mind small spaces. But the combination of darkness and small spaces together did not make for her favourite place in the world. Though the tunnels beneath castle Never were not as musty nor as rough as the orc caves had been, nor as oppressive and humid as the old Ironfist Clanhold had been, they were still dark, small spaces. So, as Nevalle closed the door behind her, to prevent enemies following her down and taking her by surprise, she conjured above her hand a glowing orb of light. It was one of the very basic bard cantrips, and one of the few spells that she could actually cast.

Dust stirred beneath her feet as she walked, whirled around and carried along by eddies of air that had not been moved in centuries. She hoped.

After a few minutes of walking she came to a statue depicting a tall, imposing man with a thick beard. In his hands he held a sword, its tip resting on the floor and his hands resting on its hilt. Behind the man was a gate of metal bars, and these barred her path. Wondering if this was some sort of puzzle, she stepped forward, closer to the statue.

"Be aware that you approach the sepulcher of Lord Halueth Never," boomed a voice all around the small chamber. "My duty in life, and my pact in death, is the defence of this castle I built with my two hands. Continue onward and your loyalty to Neverwinter will be tested. Friends of Neverwinter have nothing to fear. To those who are foreign or enemies of Neverwinter, be you from Illusk, the Wilds, or someplace unknown - your presence will be cleansed."

"Great. Cleansed," she muttered.

The door behind the statue rose, creaking on ancient springs, cogs and wheels. Grobnar would have loved this place. It was too bad Nevalle had prevented her from bringing anybody. Although she had spoken true when she told Neeshka she wanted to be alone, she wouldn't have minded the gnome's company. Most of the time, being with Grobnar was akin to being alone. He tended to amuse himself more often than not.

Before too long she reached another statue. It was exactly the same as the last one, depicting Lord Halueth Never as he had been in the prime of his life, during the founding of his city. Why hadn't Nevalle told her that she would be tested? Could it be that he didn't know? He said nobody had ever been down here before. Perhaps nobody even knew what was down here. Maybe they simply thought it was a magically sealed tunnel. With a sigh, she stepped forward.

"Mine are the hands that built Neverwinter," said the statue. "But not without my loyal fingers. How many fingers have I?"

She looked at the hands clasped around the stone sword. He _seemed_ to have the correct amount of fingers. How many had the last statue had? She was sure it was ten. Or perhaps this was a trick question, like that one Bevil had liked to play on people. 'How many fingers have I got?' he would ask. Then, when the reply of 'ten' was given, he would say 'Ha, no, I only have eight -- two of them are thumbs!'

It obviously had to be a trick question of some kind. Biting her lip, she considered the question carefully, as Lucas would have done. She dissected the words as he had taught her to do. Halueth Never's hands had built Neverwinter. But not without his loyal fingers. But how could fingers be _loyal_. Unless the fingers were a metaphor. If Lord Nasher was Lord Halueth, and his hands had built Neverwinter, then his two hands would guide... nine loyal fingers? The Neverwinter Nine, who were loyal to him? Could the answer really be that simple?

"Nine," she said.

"Yes, these hands led the nine fingers to victory over Illusk."

When the gate behind the statue lifted, Kail heaved a sigh of relief. She didn't know what sort of 'cleansing' would be applied to enemies of Neverwinter, but she was quite sure she never wanted to find out. Conscious that she may not have much time to reach the throne room, she moved on.

The corridors were long, but not as twisty as she had feared they might be. In fact, there were only two directions in which she could travel; forward, and backward. There were no side-corridors, no dead ends, no U-turns, nowhere to get lost. When she came to another statue of Lord Halueth Never, she stepped forward, expecting another test.

"What name has the lake beside Neverwinter?" asked the statue. She waited for a moment, waiting for the rest of the question, the rest of the puzzle. When no more was forthcoming, she sorted in disgust.

"Black Lake," she said. She had, after all, spent _weeks_ trying to get into the bloody Blacklake District. That place had been the bane of her life ever since she had arrived in Neverwinter. If she couldn't even answer _this_ question correctly, she deserved whatever 'cleansing' the statue offered.

"Yes. It is named for the black blood the orcs spilled within the lake when we liberated this land."

The gate behind the statue rose just as her light spell ended and she was plunged into darkness. Suppressing a swear word -- it wasn't nice to swear in the presence of the deceased, after all, especially when they came in the form of large, talking, cleansing-threatening statues -- she delved into a small bag that she kept tied to her belt, feeling for a ring. When her fingers closed around it she drew it out of the bag and was immediately bathed in a dim orange light. She put the ring on her thumb -- the only digit that was large enough for the ring to stay on -- and continued down the corridor.

As expected, she came across another statue. How many of these things would there be? Didn't she have enough to worry about, without also having to obsess about a ritual cleansing?

"Were you an enemy of Neverwinter, where would you be buried?" the statue asked as she approached.

"The Tomb of Betrayers." Neeshka had pointed it out to her in their early days in the city.

"Yes, Neverwinter is distinct from the savages that surround it by the mercy we show to our defeated foes."

"How estimable," she muttered.

She stepped through the gate then sat down on the floor, resting her back on the wall. It was now well past noon, probably approaching early evening, and she hadn't eaten since breakfast. She took off her new cloak and removed her backpack, taking a portion of rations from it. She ate them quickly; they were a little stale and not particularly appetising. After she washed her rations down with water from her canteen she put on her backpack and cloak again, and set off down the corridor. By the time she reached the next statue, she had lost count of them.

"State the more common name for the Artery of Neverwinter," the statue said.

Kail rooted inside her back once more and brought out a large map drawn on parchment. On one side was Neverwinter's territory, showing all the places she had been; the Duskwood, Port Llast, Ember, the Githyanki Caves, the Ironfist stronghold, Old Owl Well, Arvahn and, of course, West Harbor. She turned the parchment over, looking at a detailed map of the city of Neverwinter. It showed the various districts of the city, as well as places of note. The castle itself was, of course, on there, as was the Moonstone Mask, the Sunken Flagon, the Watch House and Aldanon's house. Neeshka had been good enough to pencil in places of less-than-wholesome repute, and Grobnar had added physical and geographical markers. Somebody, probably Elanee, had drawn trees where they appeared in the city and somebody else, most likely Sand, had made scathing observations in pencil on the side of the map, pertaining to Nasher, Nevalle, the tower of the Many Starred Cloak, Duncan and his tavern, and various other sundries. Though she could find nothing labelled as 'the Artery of Neverwinter', the Neverwinter River caught her eye. From a merchant's point of view, a river would be like an artery, wouldn't it? It would bring trade, the life-blood of a city like Neverwinter.

"Neverwinter River," she guessed at last.

"Yes. The Neverwinter River is called our Artery for the warmth of its waters, and for the blood spilt in the defense of Neverwinter."

She shrugged. She had guessed the right answer, if not the right reasons. Obviously these questions were from a time before Neverwinter became a major trading port. When she walked past the statue, she kept the map in her hand. She might be needing it again for the next 'test'.

Another statue awaited her, and annoyance began to prickle her. The defences of the Castle had been activated, time was of the utmost importance, and here she was being _tested_ by some centuries-dead ruler. What was the point? Why couldn't she just be given some hulking adversary to hack and slash at? It would have saved a _lot_ of time.

"Where might an enemy of Neverwinter find a map of our city?" asked the statue.

Sighing, she sat cross-legged on the floor, spreading the map over her lap and holding her ring towards it, so she could see more clearly. Then she carefully scoured the map from top to bottom.

It was _possible_ that there was a map of Neverwinter inside the castle... but of course, Neverwinter had been recently rebuilt following the war with Luskan. Would any map here be new, or old? Not that it was important; back then, back when these tests were devised, Neverwinter would not have been attacked by Luskan. Luskan wasn't even _called_ Luskan back then, it was called Illusk. Anyway... no enemy of Neverwinter should be able to get into the Castle to find a map. If they knew how to get here, they already _had_ a map. So where would they have gotten it from?

Perhaps the Neverwinter Archives. But the Archives were tended by strict and secretive Archivists who rarely let anyone have free access to their archives. Plus, you'd need a map of Neverwinter to even find the Archives in the first place. Then perhaps a map could be found in another place. Perhaps Luskan had a map of Neverwinter.

But... Luskans would never be given free rein to wander around and map out the city. They would be quickly stopped, unless they did it covertly.

Eventually, the statue took her extended silence for an answer in itself.

"Yes," it said. "A friend of Neverwinter would never real a map to its enemies."

The gate behind it was unbarred, and she stood, brushing the dust from her trousers as best she could. Just bloody typical. Even when she wasn't running or fighting, she managed to get dirty. It was like dust and dirt was attracted to her, as if she was a giant magnet for it.

She surrendered to the dust and moved on down the corridor, coughing as some of it entered her lungs. Gods, this place was horrible. She took her canteen from her pack and sipped water, clearing her throat, then moved down the long corridor to the next statue of Lord Halueth Never.

"Hi, Hal," she said, waving at the statue. Do you mind if I call you Hal?"

"How many gates must one pass through from Neverwinter's harbor to her castle?" it asked, ignoring her question.

"Three," she said. She had been from the docks to the castle more than enough times to know the answer to that one.

"Yes. Three mighty gates, built so that if one falls, the others will prevail. You have been proven to know Neverwinter. But for Neverwinter to know you, you must declare your loyalty to her."

"I declare my loyalty towards Neverwinter," she said aloud. _For as long as the King of Shadows remains a threat_, she amended silently in her head. And after that, she would be gone.

"So be it. The stone of this castle bears witness to your fealty. Protector of Neverwinter, take your place among us."

The last metal gate rose, and she passed to another statue. This one, unlike the others, held no sword in his hands.

"The Nine will protect my resting place from any who approach, but one of the Nine is missing. Take his place to join my side."

In the centre of chamber behind the staue was a long tomb; a sarcophagus. Around the tomb were nine statues, and swords, magically animated, floated around the inside of eight of them. Slowly, giving the gleaming swords a wife berth, Kail walked around the statues, examining the plaques that named them. These were, she realised, the original Neverwinter Nine. When she came to one of the statues, she read the plaque aloud.

"Talven, first of the Nine. We shall not rest until his sword takes its rightful place."

This statue was facing outwards, unlike the others, which were facing inwards, towards the tomb. This _had_ to be the 'missing' man. She wondered if he had truly gone missing in life, or whether this was simply another riddle carved from stone. Putting aside her doubts, she slipped around the other side of the statue and began to approach the tomb, keeping a wary eye on the floating swords. If they decided to attack, only her dragon-fire would save her, and she wasn't convinced she could summon the fire at will, much less control it when it did come.

The swords, however, did not attack. Kail lifted the lid from the sarcophagus, taking out two items; a rod and a sword.

"The Nine are assembled and one duty remains for me. I bequeath this, the Rod of Never, to the new Lord of Castle Never. Deliver it to him that he may use it to protect Neverwinter from its savage enemies."

The voice from the sarcophagus fell silent, leaving a feeling of emptiness and loss in the chamber. With a shiver, she examined the items. One of them, the rod, looked quite ornate. It was crafted from gold, and several gems were set into it. She pushed the rod down into her belt, then examined the sword. She recognised it almost immediately; it was named 'Blessing of the Daystar', a weapon much sought-after by those who fought against the undead. Paladins of Lathander, she knew, were particularly interested in its properties. The sword she also pushed through her belt, hoping its sharpened edge wouldn't cut through the leather of the belt before she could find a scabbard for it.

o - o - o - o - o

From her vantage point in a hidden room behind Nasher's throne, Kail watched the scene playing out in front of her. Lord Nasher and two of his guards were circling around a Reaver; possibly the same one that had destroyed West Harbor. That Reaver _had_ said that it would reform in Merdelain if struck down, after all.

As she stepped forward, anger at the Reaver bubbling inside her stomach, she used the remaining two abilities from the Ritual simultaneously; the weapons of Lord Nasher and his guards began to glow with the power of Arvahn, and she conveyed to both herself and the men protection against negative energy, to counter any harm the Reaver might do them. When she pushed aside the tapestry behind the throne and walked down the stairs, she drew the Daystar from her belt, and the weapon sprang to life, glowing orangey-yellow with an inner fire in the presence of the undead wizard. It was too bad she had already used the power of the Cleansing Nova to burn the vampires and wraiths earlier.

When it saw her descending the Reaver turned to face her, raising its weapon. Immediately, Lord Nasher and his guards fell upon it, hacking with their swords enhanced by the power of ancient Illefarn. When it turned to face them, Kail struck with the Daystar, and the undead monster roared in pain. It turned back to her, swiping at her with its weapon, and she jumped back, out of its range.

She wanted nothing more than to give in to her rage, to allow it to consume her, to allow the dragon-fire to come and burn the Reaver. But she knew she could not allow that to happen. Not here. She could not control her draconic ability, and she was just as likely to kill Lord Nasher, the guards, and the nobles and merchants who huddled around the walls of the room. Most of these people probably hadn't done anything to deserve the sort of fiery death she would bring to them.

Eventually the Reaver could take no more; it fled via a spell, though where it went she did not know. Perhaps to somewhere on the outskirts of the city. Perhaps back to the Mere. Regardless, as soon as it left, the doors to the room opened; the ancient alarm system deactivated itself. On cue, Nevalle and the guards who had battled the undead in the entrance to the Castle jogged into the room, checking it over for lingering enemies.

"My Lord, are you well?" Nevalle asked Nasher.

"Assassins," said Nasher, his sword still clasped in his hand and a disgusted look on his face. They sent assassins here. So this is how this enemy fights, with shadows instead of cold steel. Yes, I'm fine, Nevalle."

"I'm fine too," she said, offering the knight a sweet smile.

"Is that the Rod of Never you carry?" asked Nasher, catching sight of the golden rod in her belt. "Let me see it. I had heard the Rod rested below, but none have been able to enter Lord Halueth's tomb. It seems the ancient alarms of the Keep opened the way." She gave him the rod, and he turned it over in his hands a few times. "With this Rod I should be able to open some of Castle Never's oldest secrets. It will aid us, in the days to come. It seems this enemy fears to face Neverwinter and all its knights. And that includes you, Kail Farlong. You have earned this through your deeds - the title of knight, in service to Neverwinter."

"And if I refuse?" she asked.

"Then rather than a knighthood I'll mark you a wanted criminal, throw you in irons, then pardon you only in exchange for your service."

"I've always wanted to be a knight, ever since I was a little girl."

"So have I," sighed Nevalle wistfully, and she repressed the laugh that desperately tried to leave her lips at the thought of Nevalle in pigtails and a dress.

"I'm not asking for your permission, so don't try my patience any further," said Nasher. "I need every able-bodied soldier to fight this enemy."

"Milord," Nevalle interjected, "there are certain rites for inducting Knights that must b..."

"Nevalle, I knighted you at Redfallow's Watch in the mud with orcs surrounding us. Ceremonies can wait. Now bow, and be knighted, Kail Farlong."

Remembering Nevalle's advice, she took the ceremonial sword from its sheath -- temporarily placing the Daystar there instead -- and handed the sword to Nasher. She had no idea if she was supposed to bow on any particular knee, so she chose her right knee to kneel on -- to prevent the scabbard with the Daystar from banging on the floor -- and held her breath as the ceremonial was tapped on one shoulder, then passed over her head and tapped on her other shoulder.

"You may rise."

When she stood, Lord Nasher gave her the sword back, and she slipped it into her belt without a scabbard.

"Knight-Captain Kail Farlong of Crossroad Keep, you have done more to halt this King of Shadow's advanced than any of my knights. When he strikes, you are there to counter it. You have risked your life over and over again, for no reward and little thanks. So, I offer you an honour. I give you the chance to become one of the Neverwinter Nine, the protectors of Neverwinter, the surrounding lands, and most importantly, its people."

"What? Me? One of the Nine?" she spluttered, overwhelmed at the enormity of the offer. He wanted her to become one of the élite knights of Neverwinter. Only the best were accepted into the Nine, she knew. But she also knew that it was an 'in for life' thing, that once you were one of the Nine, you couldn't just leave on your own whim. She would have to serve not only Lord Nasher, but Neverwinter itself. For the rest of her life, no matter how short it might be.

"I... I am honoured," she said at last. "I thank you for your offer, but I must decline. For now, I must concentrate on Crossroad Keep, on the people within it, and on stopping the King of Shadows. I can't take on any more, for the moment."

"Very well. Perhaps after we have defeated the King of Shadows, you will reconsider. But for now, I'm tired of waiting for him to strike. I want you to find him, to make him answer for the blood of every man slain tonight. I want you to fortify your Keep against the coming war, and to find allies to join us against him. As for the rest of you," Lord Nasher turned to address the guards, nobles and merchants present. "All fighting men must take to the fields to face this foe. Help your neighbours to evacuate their homes. Help to fortify the walls of Neverwinter. We must be ready for the King of Shadows' next move."

"I will have an official message put out in the morning, my Lord," said Nevalle.

"Excellent. As for you, Knight-Captain... I want to see both you and Nevalle back here in the morning for a battle-planning meeting. I am looking forward to hearing your suggestions about how we can find and destroy the King of Shadows."


	79. Liaisons

_79. Liaisons_

Kail walked down the main street of Neverwinter's Docks District, leading her horse by its reins. Luckily, the animal followed placidly; she wasn't in the mood for calming nervous horses. And Wind _did_ have reason to be nervous.

Walking down the street, she was aware that she looked like some sort of strange battle-porcupine. The Daystar was sheathed in the longsword scabbard on her left hip. The ceremonial sword of Neverwinter was pushed through her belt at her right hip. The Short Sword of Quickness, borrowed from her uncle many moons ago, was sheathed in a shorter scabbard on her right hip, and beneath it, on a small strip of thick leather attached to her belt via buckles, was the skinning knife that Bishop had given her for her fight with Lorne. Looped through her belt by a thick string and bouncing gently against her left leg, with its safety catch _firmly_ on, was the RAMP.

When she passed the tall window of a shop she caught sight of her own reflection. Her hair, casualty of her grief, stuck up wildly in various directions. It was longer than Neeshka's, now, but it didn't seem to like lying flat. Instead, the breeze blew it around at its own whim. Using her free hand, she lifted one sleeve of her shirt, feeling the marks that marred her skin. There weren't any scars where she had cut into her arms, but neither Elanee or Zhjaeve had bothered to scrape the ash out of her wounds before healing her. Either they hadn't been able to stomach it, or they felt it was best to leave it. Either way, the black ash under her skin was now a permanent part of her, striping her arms from her shoulders to her wrists. One mark for every member of West Harbor who had died in the Reaver's attack on her home.

When she reached the Sunken Flagon she stabled Wind herself, throwing down straw from the loft for his bedding, then putting up a hay net for him. She gave him a small bucket of oats, stroked him, then blew out the light for the stable. When she finally entered the Flagon itself, the sky was black.

"Kail! Why, I didn't even know you were back in the city!" Duncan hurried across the floor of the Flagon and embraced her in a hug.

"Ah, watch the weapons," she warned, pointing down at the bare blade sticking out through her belt.

"Right, right. Quite a collection you have there. Why don't you take a seat, and we'll have a catch up."

"Who's your new barman?" she asked, nodding at the middle-aged man behind the bar.

"Oh, that's just Sam. Sam, fetch my niece and I a drink," Duncan called, leading her to one of her usual old tables."Thanks for not bringing that free-loading Dwarf, by the way. So, where is everyone?"

"They're back at Crossroad Keep. Nevalle brought me here alone to be knighted. Now Nasher wants me to find the King of Shadows and make allies for the war and fortify the Keep and I have to reforge the Sword of Gith and Shandra's dead and somehow I have to make it all _work_. Does Sam cook?"

"Sam, a plate of food!" Duncan shouted across the room. "Aye, I heard about Shandra. It's a real shame, what happened to her."

"How in Shaundakul's name did you hear about her? It only happened three days ago. Or four. I'm not really sure."

"Oh, I dunno. I hear about a lot of things. Word gets around, you know. I hope that wherever she is now, she's happy."

"So do I," she sighed. "Shandra shouldn't have died... it was my fault that she did. I'm beginning to think the Realms would be better off if I was dead."

"Tsk, don't think like that, lass. You know that you're the only hope we have against the King of Shadows. Even if you were just plain old Kail, without any shards in her chest or a destiny that involves saving us all from total annihilation, I'd still want you around. Just remember that there are people who care about you, even if it doesn't feel like it sometimes."

"Thanks. It means a lot that you care. I just wish I didn't have to deal with all this... bureaucracy. I just want to live and be happy and do what I want. I don't want to be a knight with a Keep and a destiny."

"The gods aren't always kind enough to give us what we want. But one thing at a time, eh? When you look at everything you have to do, it seems like one insurmountable mountain. Take them instead as lots of little hills, and you'll find each small victory does wonders for your self-esteem."

Duncan left her alone and returned to the kitchen, no doubt to find out what was taking the cook so long. In the corner of the room Fenton and Weasel were discussing something quietly. They had greeted her, when she had entered the Flagon, but were otherwise engaged in their own business.

Today had been exhausting. As if battle the undead - she hated the undead - wasn't enough, now Nasher had knighted her, placing her well and truly under his thumb. She was, she realised, completely trapped. She had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. If she wanted to fight, to succeed, she would have to raise an army. And that meant jumping through Nasher's hoops like some pet dog.

"They tell me that you have a Castle," said a familiar voice behind her. "That you have servants and an army of men who are falling over themselves to do your bidding. And yet I have to wonder... with all of these people to serve you, why did you hire a blind, incompetent monkey as your barber, Sha?"

"It's nice to see you again, Jadar," she said, treating the sailor to a genuine smile. He took the seat opposite her and appraised her frankly.

"Fortunately, I have just the thing to rescue you from this dire situation." He leant over and fussed with a lock of her hair for a moment. When he pulled away she shook her head, a white feather falling to the side of her face. She lifted her hand and examined it with her fingers; he had tied it into her hair so that it would not fall out with movement.

"I want a feather in my hair too!" said a small girl, pouting and crossing her arms over her chest. She was one of the children than Duncan allowed to sleep in the Flagon's warm loft. Not all of them had gone to Crossroad Keep with Sal.

"Yeah, me too!" said another girl.

"Alas, I had only one feather, from an albatross, no less. It is a lucky bird. But if you can go and find more feathers I will put some in your hair." The girls ran out of the Flagon, laughing and giggling between themselves.

"You _know_ they're going to come back with dirty pigeon and seagull feathers," Kail admonished.

"Perhaps. But now I may spend time in your company without listening to the inappropriate giggling of small children."

"When did the Double Eagle get back to Neverwinter?" As she spoke she caught Duncan's eye, gesturing for her uncle to bring ale and food for Jadar too.

"Yesterday. The seas are harsh, this late in the season. We might not sail again for a few weeks. I suppose it depends on what mood Talos is in."

"Are you looking forward to spending some time ashore?"

"No," he said, pulling his face. "Land is too still. It doesn't move enough. I always struggle to sleep on it. And the noises are all wrong. Little birds and insects and the like... I don't know how people deal with it. No, at sea is where I am happiest, where I can feel the waves cradling me like a baby, and there is no end to the horizon. That, Sha, is freedom."

"Part of me wishes I'd come with you after all, when Captain Flinn offered to let me stay on," she sighed. How different life would be, if she had never come to Neverwinter. If she had simply gone straight to Waterdeep with the Eagle's crew. How would her own life be different? How would the lives of everybody around her be different?

For a start, she would never have gone to Old Owl Well. She would never have met Casavir and Grobnar. The Orcs would have overwhelmed the Well. Casavir might be dead, along with Callum and all of the Greycloaks there.

Shandra would have been killed by Zeeaire. Qara would probably be dead or imprisoned. Khelgar would still be trying to become a monk. Elanee would have gone to the Skymirror and been slain by the Shadow Priest. Aldanon would still be kidnapped, along with Zhjaeve. Crossroad Keep would still belong to Garius, who would still be alive.

But the people of Ember would still be alive, too. They had been slaughtered to frame Kail. No Kail, no slaughter. And what about Lieutenant Roe? She had cracked down on crime in the Docks District, and in retaliation, the thieves had burnt the Watchpost with him inside it. Moira would still be alive, still running her cartel. Lorne would still be alive. Would Duncan be alive? Would the Flagon still be standing under Moire's rule? Would Sand still be running his shop? Would Bishop still be glued to the chair in front of Duncan's fire?

Did the good that she had done outweigh the bad? Had she made the realms safer, by being here? In many ways, yes. Regardless of whether she was here or not, the King of Shadows would still represent a danger. Yes, she had made the Docks safer - by slaughtering criminals, by making the roads run red with rivers of blood. Yes, she had helped to fortify Old Owl Well, and by rescuing the emissary, Issani, she had ensured the continued goodwill of the Lords Alliance. She had killed Garius, who threatened not only Neverwinter but the Sword Coast itself.

But without Kail, the githyanki might have reclaimed the Sword of Gith, reforged it, and used it to destroy the King of Shadows. Ammon Jerro might have completed the entire Ritual of Purification himself and used his army of demons and devils to unmake the Guardian. How would history judge her? Would she be recorded as somebody who had made the hard decisions and triumphed, or tried to take the moral high ground and failed? Would the hard choices even lead to victory anyway? What if this was all irrelevant? What if, in the end, all it came down to was how strong she was? What if nobody else mattered?

"Penny for your thoughts, Sha," said Jadar.

"I was just remembering my time on the Eagle," she lied with a smile. It was bad enough that Neeshka and Zhjaeve saw her self-doubt and her low self-esteem. She didn't need others to be seeing it too.

"Would you like to visit again? We may not be at open sea, but the Eagle still rocks pleasingly whilst docked," he said with a suggestive smile.

She was saved from having to answer by the girls returning, their arms full of a variety of coloured feathers; green, red, brown, white, black, grey... it seemed they'd been busy.

"Where did you get all of these?" Kail asked, picking up a green feather and twirling it over her fingers.

"From the animal market," one of the girls grinned brightly.

"Well, I _did_ promise to put them in your hair, didn't I?" Jadar sighed.

He took a short length of wire from his pocket and pushed it through the tubular shaft of one feather. When it was threaded half-way, he twisted the wire, forming a tight coil, and wrapped a few strands of one girl's hair around it. Then he did the same with the other girl and another feather.

"More!" the oldest girl grinned.

Kail laughed at Jadar's expression, and helped him to push pieces of wire through all the feathers on the table. Duncan brought their food over, looking at his niece and the sailor as if they were mad, then left them to it. They worked as they ate, pushing wire through feathers and tying them into the girls' hair, then Kail allowed them to tie more into her hair.

"Alright, I think it's somebody's bed time," she said at last.

"You're right... it's far past my bed time," said Jadar. The girls giggled.

"Come on, girls, get yourselves upstairs, or I'll fetch Duncan to chase you up there," she warned.

"Aw, but we wanna stay here with you," one moaned.

"Sorry, but it's strictly adult time now."

Sulking, they made their way out of the common room and up the stairs to the loft. She had no idea how many children slept up there now, and she realised that she didn't _want_ to know. This was one problem she didn't have to worry about. The children were Duncan's concern, not hers.

"Would you like to take a walk along the dock?" Jadar asked.

"It's cold, dark, and I have feathers in my hair."

"But it is a beautiful night. The stars are out. We can go up to the crow's nest, if you like. Up there, away from the light of the city, it feels like you are actually amongst the stars."

"Alright," she grinned. "Duncan, can I leave some of my weapons here?" she called out to her uncle.

"Of course, lass."

She removed the ceremonial sword, the Daystar and the RAMP from her belt, placing them on the table. They would only make climbing the ship's rigging difficult, and it wasn't as if she needed to be heavily armed here. The docks were much safer these days.

Outside, the night air was freezing, and fog was slowly rolling into the city from the ocean. Kail pulled her cloak around her and took Jadar's arm as they strolled towards the harbour. There were six ships berthed at the dock; two looked like war ships, and were flying Neverwinter's flag. One she recognised instantly as the Double Eagle, two carried flags bearing the insignia of Waterdeep, and one had a flag with a symbol she didn't recognise.

"Where is that ship from?" she asked Jadar, pointing at the deep-hulled vessel.

"That is a trading ship from Moonshae."

"My father was from Moonshae," she mused.

"Oh? Then you should go there some day, Sha."

"Have you ever been?"

"Only once, and only to the capital city, Caer Callidyrr. It is a beautiful city, gleaming and white, shining amongst the green hills and mountains like a jewel. From what I have seen of the rest of the islands, they are either high and mountainous, where the Northlanders live, or green and rolling agricultural lands, where the Ffolk live. It's said that there are portals there, to the Feywild, and that sometimes, fey creatures come through... and not all of them with good intentions."

"It sounds... lovely. There are so many places that I've yet to see... Amn, the Dales, the Anauroch, Cormanthor, Thay... I wish I could just leave now, that I could just go and explore them all."

"And spend a lifetime wandering, Sha? That is no life."

"Isn't that what you do?"

"My life is the sea. My home is the Double Eagle. I take my home with me, wherever I go. The crew are my family. It is not the same as the life of a wanderer."

"I have no home, it was destroyed. I have no family, they are dead. I have nothing to go back to, nobody to return to."

"What of Neverwinter, or your Keep?"

"The Keep is a noose around my neck that gets tighter every day. Neverwinter is somewhere I feel safe, but it is not my home. I could never be truly happy here. Not for very long."

"Then perhaps when you tire of saving the realms, we will convince Captain Flinn to take you to the Moonshae Isles. Perhaps you will find a home there."

"Perhaps," she smiled.

When they reached the Double Eagle he helped her to cross the gangplank as it dipped gently up and down with the movement of the ship. Her boots touched the deck, making a hollow sound, and she winced at the loudness of it.

"Don't worry, Sha. Everybody else is either ashore in a tavern or below deck sleeping. It will take more noise than that to wake a sailor. We can sleep through storms, if necessary."

At the base of the mast they took off their shoes, and Jadar boosted her up to the lower ropes, so that she could climb the rigging. By the time she reached the top, and hauled herself into the crow's nest, her arms and legs were beginning to ache. Well, she _had_ just rescued Lord Nasher from a Shadow Reaver and spent a good deal of time walking through dark, musty tombs, after spending an entire day in the saddle. She was entitled to be a little sore, wasn't she?

Though the air was cold, there was no wind, so for once she did not have to worry about her cloak being blown all over the place. As Jadar climbed into the nest beside her, she looked up at the stars and smiled. He was right; up here, with nothing else in the sky above her, no horizon to limit her view, it was as if she was really amongst the stars. She felt like she could almost reach out and touch one. It was, simply put, the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.

"I knew you would like it," said Jadar, watching her smile. "It was worth the hour I spent tying feathers into children's hair, just to get you up here, smiling like that."

"I can't believe how clear the sky is, up here. It's so dark, and the stars are so bright, like tiny fires of silver in the sky."

"Then perhaps this is the perfect time to practise my most ancient naval tradition."

He bent his head to kiss her, and for a few moments she thought of nothing, simply concentrated on the warmth of his lips, the touch of his hand on her cheek. But as the kiss stretched on, she heard Zhjaeve's voice in her mind.

_Right now, you are being carried by the river. As it brings you around a bend, you see rocks up ahead which stand up from the water in the middle of the channel. Swim towards these rocks, and take hold of them as the river brings you close. These rocks are your life-line. They are what you cling to when the night is at its darkest, when your thoughts are at their bleakest. They are what is left when everything else is gone, when you are alone and feeling powerless. You need only reach out to grasp the rocks, and feel secure and grounded once more. When everything else is gone, only the rocks remain. _

The rocks, she knew, were holding her back. Instead of giving in to the river, allowing its current to carry her wherever they chose, she clung to the rocks, stubbornly resisting change. When the river brought trials, the rocks were there, telling her to fight back, not to give in. Not to surrender to the river.

"I meant what I said before, Sha," said Jadar, pulling away from the kiss. "If you wish to spend a night out here, being rocked to sleep by the ship, you can. I will even keep you company, if you wish."

"I once had the misfortune of being in love."

"Oh?"

"Now, everything else... everybody else... pales in comparison."

"A terrible thing, being in love. You might never find the same again. But that does not mean you cannot enjoy companionship."

"Perhaps. But something tells me that when it is the right place, and the right time, I will know it."

"Your inner bard?"

"Something like that. I think I'd like to go back to the Flagon, now. I should probably get an early night... Lord Nasher wants to see me in the morning."

"Then I will escort you there."

"You don't have to."

"But I want to. And if you change your mind, and decide you do not need to be in love, you can come and find me here."

Back inside the Flagon, Kail took her usual room. It seemed strange, to be there on her own, without any of her friends to wander by and talk to her. For once, the common room was quiet; no sound of Grobnar playing his flute, no sound of Khelgar laughing, no Casavir clinking around in his armour, no Qara threatening Bishop with death by fire... it was like an entirely different tavern, without her companions there.

o - o - o - o - o

"Have you had any thoughts about where we can find allies, Knight-Captain?" asked Nasher. She, Lord Nasher and Sir Nevalle were sequestered in a room deep within Castle Never. Two clerks were sitting at a desk, making notes of everything that was said. Nasher had given her a questioning glance, when she first arrived -- she still had the feathers in her hair because she hadn't been able to untangle it from the wires yet -- but seemed to take her foibles in his stride. No doubt he thought she was crazy, but because she was destined to save the Sword Coast, a little craziness was permitted.

"Yes. I thought that first we should look to our current allies... the Lords Alliance, for example."

"The Lords Alliance will come to our aid," said Nevalle, "but they may not come in time to help us. Fort Locke has already fallen, and yesterday's attack here may mark the beginning of a new offensive."

"I also thought we might form old alliances, and new ones. Neverwinter once had an alliance with the dwarves, and there is a clan, the Ironfist clan, which is reclaiming its stronghold in the mountains just north of here. They might be convinced to aid us." Especially if she asked Khelgar to help with the convincing, and used the gauntlets of Ironfist as leverage. "I also believe that we might find allies among the lizardmen of the Mere."

"The lizardmen?" said Nasher, surprised. "Are you sure they can be persuaded to fight for us?"

"Some of the tribes are intelligent, and they too have been displaced by the shadow. They would be fighting for their homes, just like us."

"I've heard of a druid circle, within the Mere," Nevalle suggested. "Do you think they could be of any assistance?"

"No. I've already tried to contact the Circle of Merdelain, when I first became aware of the threat that the shadow represented. I believe that they're either dead, or swallowed by the taint of the shadow."

"Very well," said Nasher. "Then I shall leave the tasks of contacting the Ironfists and the lizardmen to you. It may also be necessary for me to order the evacuation of Highcliff. If that is the case, the refugees will be coming to Crossroad Keep. I'm sure you can use some of them for the defence of the Keep, but the rest you must house and protect until they can return to their homes. That also leaves you with the task of fortifying the Keep, and finding a way to locate the King of Shadows."

"I'll get Aldanon, Zhjaeve and Sand working on the problem of finding the King of Shadows," she nodded. "As for fortifying the Keep... we've already made progress. The main walls have been repaired, and some of the courtyard buildings repaired. The main road has been partially paved, and some of the smaller roads have been cobbled. The Keep itself is in much better condition that it was previously. Master Veedle has done extensive repairs to it. Most of the rooms are now sound, and can be used as they were originally intended."

"What about the defenders? Are they ready to face an attack?"

"Perhaps. I have about three hundred Greycloaks, now. Half of them are fully trained, or as trained as they're ever going to get, and they spend their time patrolling the outer lands of Crossroad Keep, protecting merchants and travellers. I have about forty men stationed in a halfling village called Leeves, which is a notorious banditry spot. The other half of the 'Cloaks are in training, garrisoned in the Keep. Kana is training them some of the time, but as my administrator, her tasks often keep her from spending too much time training the men. I'm desperately short on good sergeants right now. My friends help train the men when we're at the Keep, but that's not an awful lot of the time."

"I've sent orders recalling Callum from Old Owl Well," said Nasher. "When he returns, I'll ask him to help train your men at the Keep. For now, Nevalle will return to aid you. He can take on some of Kana's administrative tasks, freeing her up for training. He can also keep you apprised of the situation here in Neverwinter, and of the shadow's movements."

"Oh, he doesn't have to," she said quickly.

"Nonsense. Nevalle will be invaluable to you. I'll send messagers on a regular basis, and I'll expect the same. Now, you shall dine with me, then set out back to your Keep. If you ride quickly, you can be back before nightfall."

Kail suppressed a sigh. She knew that Nasher thought he was doing the right thing, by sending the captain of the Nine to help her. But she wanted to run the Keep herself, with the freedom to make her own choices. She suspected that Nevalle would have a great many suggestions about how she _should_ be running Crossroad Keep, and no doubt all of them would try her patience.

* * *

Note: From here onwards, I won't be writing the chapters of the story in the order in which they're played in the game. For example, the Sword of Gith will be reforged earlier than it is reforged in the game (along with its accompanying missions - the True Name meeting, the Reaver Camp, Nolaloth and West Harbor), and the Circle quest will come later on, followed by the Ironfist quest, Highcliff, the Wendersnaven, and so forth. This is to preserve the integrity of the plot I have planned. Yes, I do have a plot!


	80. Old Friends

_80. Old Friends_

The journey back to Crossroad Keep was not as tense as the outward trip had been. In part, it was because Kail had come to accept that she had to take care of the Keep and the people in it. She had to do the job in front of her, not because nobody else could, but because she was in a unique position, and because her survival was at stake.

She did not like the idea of using the Keep and its Greycloaks as a shield, but it had to be done. That was what people who had power _did_. They used those beneath them. Sometimes it was a mutual thing -- the people who were being used also required certain things of the one who was using them. They required food, shelter, clothing, training, entertainment. The whole situation was like an unspoken agreement; the farmers would till their fields, the Greycloaks would risk their lives, the servants would make sure everything got done, and in return, their lord would protect them, feed them, clothe them, give them a safe place to raise their children. This was, she was slowly coming to realise, how civilisation worked... at least on a larger scale. In there Mere, in West Harbor, this sort of arrangement had been unnecessary. The people had taken care of each other without the need for a lord or a king. But that sort of mentality didn't work in cities like Neverwinter.

The other reason that the trip home was not as tense was because she felt more at ease around Nevalle. Before, he had been the enemy. He had been Nasher's servant, somebody who wanted to put a chain around her neck. Now the chain was there, but she was determined that Nevalle would not be the one to hold the leash. The Keep itself would be her captor, and though Nasher had told her that she was the master of Crossroad Keep, she knew that it was the other way around; Crossroad Keep was _her_ master. But it wouldn't be that way forever.

Because she had come to accept her chains, she had come to realise that Nevalle was not an enemy. He was not a friend, no, but he was somebody that she could use. Where before she had fought and resisted the game of politics, she now had to play it, at least a little. She had to make allies, and, as she rode back to the Keep, her mind was afire with thoughts and ideas about how to find and make those allies.

As they had dined, Nasher had given her further information about the movements of the King of Shadows. Though for some reason the undead had not pressed on into Neverwinter's lands after the fall of Fort Locke, the shadow itself _was_ expanding out of the Mere. The wizards of the Many Starred Cloaks had scried the area, and found that the influence of the shadow was strongest in the centre of the Mere, in a place they called 'the Vale of Merdelain'. As it spread, it tainted the land, and these tainted lands they referred to as 'The Claimed Lands' -- claimed by the shadow, and most likely lost forever even if she could defeat the Illefarn Guardian. But finding a way through the Claimed Lands, to challenge the King of Shadows itself, was just one of her tasks. First she had an army to build.

When Crossroad Keep came into view, Kail felt the chains around her neck pulling tighter. She would, eventually, have to find a way to rid herself of the Keep. If she even survived the encounter with the King of Shadows. Ammon Jerro had, but he was stronger than her, and he had had an army of devils and demons on his side, their power at his fingertips.

Either word of their arrival had gone before them, or they'd been spotted by one of the guards on the walls. As she and Nevalle rode into the courtyard, all of her friends were there, gathered 'round. Though it had been only a few days since she had last seen them, it felt like an eternity, and she glanced over them as she halted her horse.

Khelgar looked the same as he always did; slightly drunk, but ready to fight in an instant. A somewhat harassed-looking Neeshka gave her a large, tired grin. Elanee looked even worse than Neeshka; dark circles ringed her eyes, and her skin looked dull. Qara was affecting a bored look, and even yawned when she thought nobody was looking. Grobnar looked pleased to see her, but he also looked sad, and somehow smaller, as if there was a weight on his shoulders, slowly crushing him. Casavir was his usual stoic self, alert and professional as he waited for her to dismount. Bishop, too, seemed no different as he stood with Karnwyr in front of his legs. Sand looked pleased to see her, and she wondered if he and Aldanon had made any more discoveries about the King of Shadows. Zhjaeve, as usual, gave little indication of what she was thinking or feeling, and Ammon merely appeared impatient, his arms folded across his chest as he waited for her to speak. As a Greycloak stepped forward to take Wind's reins, she dismounted.

"I've never been so happy to see somebody before in my whole life," said Neeshka, wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug.

"I'm pleased to see you too, Neeshka," she replied, patting the tiefling's shoulder. "But... I'm struggling to breathe right now."

"Oh, sorry." Neeshka relinquished her grip. "Gods, what have you done to your hair?"

Kail raised a hand to her head, feeling the feathers that were still threaded on wires through her hair. She hadn't had time to remove them before leaving Neverwinter.

"Ah, Jadar thought it would be fun," she explained. Neeshka raised an eyebrow, and she shook her head.

"We heard what happened," said Khelgar angrily, unaware of their silent conversation. "To attack Castle Never.... Garius, the King of Shadows... they're getting bold."

"What of our efforts against the war?" Ammon asked before she could respond to Khelgar. "Will Lord Nasher commit his forces?"

"Yes, he will. Even now he's preparing Neverwinter and his army for war. Sand, I need you and Aldanon to try to find a way for us to penetrate the Claimed Lands. Nasher wants us to strike directly at the King of Shadows."

"Ah, wonderful. I was wondering when I'd be given another impossible task to perform," the wizard replied.

"I'm sure if anybody can find a way, you can. Zhjaeve, Ammon, we need to find a way to hurt... and kill... the Reavers."

"Know that this will be difficult, Kalach-cha," said Zhjaeve. "When Garius and his lackeys were killed by the ritual they were performing to give them control of the King of Shadows, it turned them into creatures of unlife. But more than that, it tied them directly to the shadow's power. As long as the King of Shadows exists, when the Reavers are struck down, they will simply reform by his side."

"Pardon me," said Grobnar, clearing his throat, "but it seems to me that sometimes, these things just come to you. I mean, we can't be the only ones that the King of Shadows has harmed. We've already met all sorts of people who want to get rid of the King of Shadows, and we've done it all through serendipity. Maybe the answer will come to us in time, if we wait patiently."

"This may be the best that we can hope for," said Zhjaeve. "Know that it may be something that only time can aid us with."

"Meanwhile," said Kail, "we need to work on finding allies."

"Alliances are made to be broken, if agreed to at all," said Bishop scornfully. "Good luck finding anybody to join our side in these times."

"Clan Ironfist will help!" glared Khelgar. "They might take a bit of convincing, but they won't back down from a fight if they think it's just."

"The lizardfolk should not be ignored," said Elanee. "They once made their homes in the Mere, and now the King of Shadows has driven them out. They are fiercely territorial, and would make good allies."

"Bah, lizards!"

"We should look for the Wendersnaven!" said Grobnar brightly.

"Oh, gods," Sand groaned.

"No, they're not gods, but they see all, hear all, know all, and are said to have incredible powers. There's two sages in Port Llast who are said to know something about them."

"We'll look them up the next time we're near Port Llast," she assured the gnome. It would lift his heart, to be taken seriously for once. And he needed it, after Shandra. "I think for now I'd just like to have a hot meal and a cold drink. I've missed Sal's cooking."

"Um," said Neeshka, "can I talk to you alone for a moment? In the inn?"

"Of course," she replied, puzzled. It wasn't like Neeshka to be so reticent. She normally spoke her mind openly. _Too_ openly, at times.

She allowed her friend to lead her away from the others, who seemed to be making a point of not following. Whatever Neeshka wanted, apparently Nevalle wasn't allowed to be a part of it; Sand caught his attention and began throwing questions at him. Then Ammon joined in, and Nevalle began to take on a harassed look.

"What's this all about, Neeshka?" she asked as they approached the inn.

"It's... uh... difficult to explain. You sorta need to see it for yourself."

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"

"Oh no, it's nothing bad. It's probably the best news you've had for a long time." The tiefling opened the door and gestured for her to enter. Inside, her friend went to the fire, crouching down to whisper to a man who was staring into its flames. Then she harried Sal out of the room, and followed him. But Kail didn't pay them any attention. When the man in front of the fire turned around, she recognised him instantly.

"Gods, Bevil.... you're alive!" she ran to him and threw her arms around him. "I mean... you _are_ alive, aren't you? I'm not imagining you?"

"Kail? Oh, thank Chauntea. I thought they were lying, I thought they were just telling me that you'd come back here to make me stay," he replied, hugging her tightly to his chest.

"How did you get here? How did you escape West Harbor?" she asked, not bothering to stem her tears from flowing.

"I wasn't there at the time, I didn't see it happen. I only found out after it had been done."

"I'm so sorry about your family, Bevil." She released him from her hug and sat him in one of the chairs, taking another for herself. She tried to dry her eyes on her sleeve; Bevil didn't need to see her weak and crying. He needed to see her strong and in control. "They didn't deserve it. None of them did."

"I suppose... something like this was always bound to happen. We lived in the Mere of Dead Men, right in the middle of lizardling territory and ancient ruins. We gambled every day, but this time, we lost."

"I'm going to make sure this King of Shadows never harms another soul ever again," she swore to him.

"The... um... ranger you travel with. Bishop. He said you have one of the shards in your chest. That you're going to find all the shards and reforge some sort of sword."

"Yes, eventually."

"I... I had no idea you had one in your chest. If I'd known, I never would have..."

"Never would have what, Bevil?" He looked like he wanted to be sick. "It's okay, you can tell me."

"I haven't told anybody about it before. After you left... not long after... I was out patrolling in the swamps. Some of those dark dwarves found me. They asked me where you were... I didn't want to tell them anything but they hurt me, a lot. I told them everything... about the shard we'd recovered from the ruins, and where you were going, where you lived... I'm so sorry Kail. They came after you because of me."

"You have no need to apologise, Bevil. It's my fault that they hurt you, not yours. In the end, everything worked out fine. I dealt with the duergar and the githyanki. They didn't hurt me."

"Really? You... you're not just saying that?"

"Really. They're gone, now, and they won't be coming back for a while."

"Thank the gods. I was afraid that I'd led them right to you, that they'd catch you and kill you, and it would have been all my fault. Now... I feel like a weight has been lifted, like I can finally breathe again."

"I'm glad. There's no reason to torture yourself over what happened. It wasn't your fault... we've both been victims of circumstances beyond our control. If you like, you can help me... I could always use a good friend by my side."

"You don't seem short on friends these days," he said wryly. "Not that I'm jealous or anything. I'm glad you've made lots of new friends. I think... I think West Harbor was too small for you. It was full of people who didn't understand you. People here... they seem to understand you. They don't seem as judgmental."

"Things are very different, out here," she sighed.

"Thanks for the offer. I would like to help, but I think I have to do it in my own way. I've decided to join the Greycloaks. Kana saw me training a couple of days ago, in one of the practise yards. She said she wants to make me a sergeant. Can you imagine it? Me, a sergeant! Training men and giving orders!"

"I think you'll do great, Bevil. With all the training Georg gave you in the militia, I'm sure you'll be a big help here. And we _could_ use somebody who knows which end of a sword to hold, to train the new recruits."

"Then I'll stay here for as long as you need me. Do you think that my family, that everyone from West Harbor, have gone somewhere where they can be happy?"

"I'm sure of it," she smiled. "They'll all be together, just like they were in life."

o - o - o - o - o

They talked for hours, in the inn, until at last Kail felt that she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. Though she didn't want to leave her friend so soon after discovering he was still alive, the knew that without a few hours sleep she would be useless in the morning. No doubt Kana had a _lot_ of paperwork for her to go over.

She said good night to Bevil and made her way through the courtyard, silent at this hour, and into the Keep itself. For once, the large bed in her suite would be welcome, despite the coldness of the room.

"I tried," said Neeshka, jumping out at her from a corridor. "I really, really tried. You don't understand how difficult it was."

"What are you talking about?"

"You... you're going to your suite?"

"It _is_ where I sleep."

"Well... why don't you sleep in my room tonight? I can sleep in your room, I don't mind."

"What has happened to my room, Neeshka?" she asked, a feeling of impending doom creeping over her.

"Um. You really need to see for yourself."

Rounding the corner to her door, she found herself face to face with Mister Pointy. The construct didn't seem to be doing very much. It was just standing there, as if waiting. But it was strange to see it without Grobnar close by.

"What's the golem doing here?" she asked.

"He's your... ah... door guard."

"I need a door guard?"

"You need an _army_ of door guards to keep Veedle out."

With great trepidation, Kail opened her door, and looked around in horror at the room she barely even recognised as her own. The bed had been transformed into something with intricately carved wooden posts that supported a canopy of silks. A large bearskin rug lay in front of the fireplace, which thankfully hadn't been touched. But a marble bathtub had taken over one corner of the room, partially hidden by a mahogany screen, carved with beautiful depictions of animals. The windows had been draped with silk curtains with an inlay of thick material to keep out the worst of the draughts. A painting was hanging from one of the walls in a thick wooden frame, and a gilded water stand took up a corner opposite the bath.

"He got the bath, stand, rug and painting in on the first day," said Neeshka. "After that I posted the golem as a guard, to keep out Veedle's people. But then Grobnar had to take him away to do some minor adjustments, and by the time he was finished, Veedle had already done the bed and the curtains and the screen. I tried to get him to take it all away but he said he's too busy repairing stuff."

"It's fine. I know you tried your best. You're not to blame for this."

"You don't know how hard it was. I had Casavir watching Ammon and Bishop watching Bevil and Elanee unable to sleep and Grobnar moping and Sand being reclusive and Qara being herself... I think Kana has a lot to discuss with you, too."

"How's Bevil been, since he arrived?" she asked, closing the door and stepping behind the screen to change into her night shirt.

"Not too great. I think he's taking West Harbor pretty badly. Not as bad as you did... I mean, he's not about to go giving himself a bad haircut or anything. But it's like he almost doesn't believe what's happened. Sometimes he talks about it as if everybody he knew is still alive, and the village is still there."

"He'll be okay, eventually. He just needs time."

"You know... it's really cold in here," said Neeshka with a shiver.

"I know."

"Don't you wanna... start the fire or something?"

"No."

"Oookay. Hey, why don't you ask..."

"No."

"You don't even know what I was doing to say!"

"I don't need to. Whatever your suggestion is; no. I don't deserve the warmth of a fire when the people I know are lying dead in the cold Mere. I can't afford to let this place be my sanctuary, because it would be a lie; no place is safe whilst the King of Shadows lives."

"But if you..."

"No. I'd like to go to sleep now, Neeshka. I've had a busy few days. Can we continue this in the morning?"

"Oh, alright," the tiefling sighed. Kail smiled, and climbed into bed.

"You can leave Mister Pointy out there, if you like. He might prove useful to have around."

"Will do. Sleep well, Kail. And if you need anything, just let me know."

Neeshka slipped out the door and sauntered down the corridor, towards her own room, her tail flicking cat-like as she walked. Kail, she knew, was so determined to be strong, alone; she had already lost so much that she didn't want to let anything, or anybody, close, in case she lost everything again. She was so afraid of losing things that she didn't see how she was isolating herself, not just from her friends, but from the Keep, and from life. Neeshka was doing to do everything within her power to see that Kail was reminded that she _had_ friends, that she was still alive, and still had a lot to live for. And if Kail thought she was going to be easily dissuaded, the bard would soon find out that Neeshka was one thief who knew how to fight dirty.

o - o - o - o - o

"And we've been approached by a mage called Startear," said Kana, reading off points from a _very_ long list. "He said that if we turn one of the empty courtyard buildings to a wizard tower, he'll come and open a store here."

"Startear claims to be from Sigil," said Sand, "and he is a _very_ powerful archmage. We can benefit a lot from whatever merchandise he brings with him. And possibly from the knowledge he brings, too."

"He cannot be fully trusted," Ammon grumbled. "He is powerful, yes, but also power-hungry. He admitted that he wishes to perform... experiments, here. I'm certain they cannot be of a benevolent nature."

"But with you and Sand to keep an eye on him, can he do any real harm?" she asked.

"Probably not. But I have better things to do with my time than watch over rogue mages."

"_I_ will watch over the rogue mage," said Sand.

"Very well," said Kail to Kana. "Tell Veedle to make a start on a wizard tower."

"Yes, Knight Captain. We've also had a couple of requests from people who wish to use the old church. One is a priest of Tyr, the other a monk of the Sun Soul. We can rebuild the church, turn it into a monastery, or leave it as rubble. The choice is yours."

"Turn it into a monastery. I'd rather not have Tyrrans looking over my shoulder."

"Very well."

Kail took a bite of the sandwich that had been sitting on her plate for over an hour. Though this meeting was supposed to be a formal report from Kana, Sand had requested to be allowed to join in, and Ammon had merely shown up and expected to take part too. Nevalle was there, but as more of a silent observer than the other two.

So far, Kana had gone over reports of Greycloak missions, of training schedules, of soldier losses, of merchants visiting the Keep, of the surrounding lands, of the productivity of the farms, and a dozen other subjects that made Kail's head swim when she thought about them.

"Kalach-cha," said Zhjaeve, stepping into the room. "It is time."

"Time for what?"

"To continue your meditations. You must know yourself before facing the King of Shadows, or all will be lost."

"Do you really have time for this, Captain?" Nevalle sighed.

"Know that unless the Kalach-cha knows herself and her own will, the King of Shadows will use her weaknesses against her," said Zhjaeve, turning her pale gaze on Nevalle. "And she is not the only one who could benefit from such wisdom."

"Alright Zhjaeve, I'll come," said Kail, pushing herself up from the seat. Her body had begun to ache from sitting in one place for too long, and she stretched her arms and legs. "Will this take long."

"It will take as long as it takes, Kalach-cha. Know that knowing oneself cannot be measured in a finite amount of time. It is a journey that can often take a lifetime to complete."

"I hope it's a short lifetime, because I don't have the luxury of time on my side."

"Now this I have to see," said Ammon, following Kail from the room.

"Know that there is nothing I can teach you in these meditations, Ammon Jerro. Your heart and mind are closed to new knowledge, but it is not too late for the Kalach-cha."

"Oh, I don't want to _do_ the meditations, I just want to watch how pointless they are."

"Can we not argue about this?" said Kail. "The meditations aren't pointless. Khelgar has already learnt from them... Grobnar and Shandra even sat in on one of our sessions. They seemed to find them useful." Ammon grumbled under his breath, but said nothing else.

Inside the library, behind the shelves at the back of the room, where the most peace could be found, Zhjaeve produced two cushions, keeping one for herself and giving one to Kail. When they were seated, they spent a few moments sitting quietly, their eyes closed, centering themselves.

"You find yourself within the river of life," said Zhjaeve, and in Kail's mind, a gushing river appeared, its currents strong, its waters cold on her skin. When she concentrated on the river, Zhjaeve's voice faded into the background.

_The last time you were in this river, you were clinging to rocks. Hold onto them again, as you did before._ Rocks appeared in the river, and she reached out to grasp them, holding on tight. But unlike rocks in a real river, which were sharp and slippy with algae, these rocks had hand-holds that fit her hands perfectly. They were rounded, holding her body as the current flowed past.

_These rocks are your life-line. __They are what you cling to when the night is at its darkest, when your thoughts are at their bleakest. They are what is left when everything else is gone, when you are alone and feeling powerless. You need only reach out to grasp the rocks, and feel secure and grounded once more. When everything else is gone, only the rocks remain. But know that the rocks are nothing more than a metaphor. They are your mind's way of visualising what your essence holds onto right until the very end._

_Whilst you cling to the rocks, you are safe. But this safety is an illusion. To know yourself, to master your will, you must cast aside this false safety. You must allow the river to take you to its destination. You must let go of the rocks. Let go of them, Kalach-cha._

The speed of a river increased. Kail held more firmly onto the rocks. The river was trying to dislodge her! It was trying to carry her away, to make her lose control! She couldn't let go of the rocks. She had to stay in control at all times. If she gave in, she would be vulnerable, to the blood of her draconic ancestor, to the Bhaalspawn taint, to the monster that lurked within her and wanted her to use her gifts to further her own power.

_Let go of the rocks, Kalach-cha._

Zhjaeve's voice was strong, commanding. Part of Kail realised that she _wanted_ to let to of the rocks. She _wanted_ to give in to temptation, to be able to use and master her abilities, to increase her own power and strength. But another part of her, the greater part, feared to let go, feared to know what she was truly capable of. As the river inside her mind grew even faster, as its water rose higher, she clung on more tightly to the rocks. In the background she could hear Zhjaeve urging her to let go, but she ignored the voice, filtering it out.

Flotsam began moving past her in the river; leaves, twigs and branches carried along by the rising waters. Now the river was a raging torrent, but still she could not let go. She could not give in. She could not relinquish control. She had to remain in control at all costs.

Suddenly, the river was gone, and she was once again in the library, gasping for breath. Her deep, heavy breathing was the only sound to be heard in the whole room.

"Know that you must learn to give up that which is false in order to know yourself, Kalach-cha. Clinging to the rocks will do you no good."

"I can't... I can't give in. It's too dangerous."

"The river is a metaphor. It is inside your mind only. There is no real danger."

"You don't know what's waiting for me when I let go," she said, pushing herself to her feet and hurrying out of the library. In her haste, she did not see somebody coming from the opposite direction, and crashed into a tall man. They both went sprawling to the floor.

"Oh, my apologies, Knight Captain!" he said, moving to help her to her feet. She brushed off his touch.

"You're not one of my Greycloaks," she said, eyeing him warily. "Who are you?"

"I am Khralver Irlingstar, chosen delegate of Luskan," he said with a bow. "I come on behalf of Sydney Natale, ranking Mistress of the Hosttower of the Arcane. I bid you greetings from Luskan, your friend in the North."

"Oh, Luskan is my friend now?"

"Yes, um, well... I'll get right to the point," he said, dry-washing his hands. "Sydney Natale wishes to meet with you to share information she has obtained regarding a weakness of the Shadow Reavers."

"What weakness?"

"Regrettably, I am not privy to that information. It is my understanding that Mistress Natale is keeping this quite secret, even from the Hosttower of the Arcane."

"If Sydney and the Hosttower have a way to defeat the Reavers, then we must know what it is," said Ammon Jerro. He stepped out from behind one of the book cases, causing Khralver to jump in fright. Zhjaeve followed right behind him, her pale gaze boring into the Luskan man.

"Um, as I was saying..." Khralver continued. "Sydney Natale wishes to meet with you and certain of your companions that she believes can make the most use of the information she intends to provide."

"Why Sydney send you instead of just coming here directly?" Kail asked.

"Miss Natale is keeping the information she has... a secret, even from her brethren in the Hosttower. She wishes to have a clandestine meeting at a neutral location away from the prying eyes of Luskan, Neverwinter, and Crossroad Keep.

"Where?"

"I cannot tell you were exactly, but it is within Neverwinter territory, in a place where privacy can be assured.

"And who does Sydney want to meet with?"

"The talented girl from the Academy - Qara. And the githzerai... Zhjaeve?"

"Why Zhjaeve and Qara?"

"Mistress Natale has not provided me with that information, just the names and a mandate that I am not to return without the three of you."

"I must consult with certain people before I make a decision. You may wait here, in the library. I will be back shortly, to let you know if I agree to your terms."

o - o - o - o - o

"It might be a sincere gesture, even from Luskan," said Casavir.

"I don't like this one bit," Neeshka scowled. "Asking you to go alone, with only Zhjaeve and Qara... what if it's an ambush?"

"I've thought of that," said Kail. She was sitting cross-legged on one of the tables in the tavern, and everyone else had seats around her. Well, almost everyone. Neeshka was pacing the floor, her tail lashing from side to side. Bishop was lounging against the fireplace, and Karnwyr was sitting by his feet. Sand was standing behind the chairs, his arms folded over his chest, the very picture of chagrin. He hadn't been pleased that Sydney wanted to meet Qara, and not him. The sorceress, meanwhile, looked smug.

"Know that if there is a chance we can discover a weakness of the Reavers, we must take it, no matter the cost to ourselves. I will not allow any harm to befall the Kalach-cha... I will sacrifice myself to protect her, if necessary. But we _must_ have the knowledge of the Hosttower," said Zhjaeve.

"I don't like it," Neeshka reiterated.

"Look," said Kail. "I know it's a risk. But we won't go unprepared. I'll take the RAMP with me, and if worst comes to worst, Qara can torch Sydney to cinders."

"Gladly," said Qara.

"Just make sure ye get back in one piece, lass," said Khelgar. "Or I'll have to raise an army of me own and go after those mages meself!"

"We'll be careful. I promise. Qara, Zhjaeve, you should go and pack a bag each. Bring a sleeping roll and a blanket, and some rations. Khralver didn't say how long we'll be gone for, or where we're going. All we know is that it's in Neverwinter's territory. And bring along anything that you think might be useful for combat." The pair left the tavern and made their way back to the Keep.

"Oh, I do hope it all works out," said Grobnar.

"I hope that this is not a fool's errand, that what the Hosttower have is genuine information," Ammon grumbled.

"You can be sure that they have _something_," said Sand. "Otherwise they would not be making such a bold gesture."

"You must be careful, Kail," said Elanee.

"I will. I better go now. I need to pack my own back, and restock on bolts for my bow."

A round of well-wishes followed her -- Sal even came out of the kitchen to give her sandwiches for the trip -- and she left the tavern not far behind Zhjaeve and Qara. Outside, the air was cold. The sun had reached its zenith an hour earlier, and was now beginning its slow descent towards the horizon. Kail took a step towards the Keep, but was pulled aside by a strong hand on her arm.

"You can't trust them," said Bishop, his gaze intense. "They're Luskans."

"I know. And I don't."

"Take Karnwyr with you." He gestured at the wolf by his feet. "I'll follow behind at a... _discreet_ distance."

"Okay. Will you bring Sand with you, though? If we're going to be facing a Hosttower mage, I'd like somebody with some magical affinity there. Somebody _other_ than Her Highness."

"I'll bring him."

"Thank you."

She hurried to the Keep with the wolf on her heels. There she packed a bag with enough bolts to supply the RAMP for a short battle, and threaded the Daystar in its new sheath onto her belt. The Sword of Quickness joined it on her other hip, along with the skinning knife. She put on her leather bracers, tucking throwing knives into them, and then put more small knives in hidden places within her boots. The RAMP was looped over her belt too, and then she turned to one of her chest of drawers, pulling out a small pouch from it. Inside were necklaces and rings, all of them magical and all of them looted from corpses, chests and tombs she had encountered on her journeys.

From the pouch she took a necklace, slipping it over her head. It afforded its wearer some spell resistance, and she knew that it would come in useful in the event of a magical fight. Another necklace joined it; a necklace of shielding. Its power was activated by touching the jewel in its center, and once active it would provide a protective barrier capable of keeping out magic missiles for a couple of hours or so. Then a ring of elemental resistance went onto her finger, and a ring of displacement, a rare item that could cause its wearer to become temporarily ethereal, followed it.

"How do I look?" she asked Karnwyr. "Right, like an idiot, I know. But a safe idiot."

For good measure, she took another necklace from her pouch -- another that gave resistance to magic -- and tied it around the wolf's neck on a long gold chain. He laughed at her, his tongue lolling from his mouth.

"I don't know if these work on animals, but I suppose it's better than nothing. Just try not to snag it on anything. The chain will break if it catches, but I don't want to put a rope around your neck because it might choke you."

He could understand everything she said, she knew. She had learnt from Elanee that the animal companions of druids and rangers were far, far more intelligent than their wild brethren. Elanee's own companion, Naloch, was probably considered a genius amongst badgers. Though that probably wasn't saying much.

"Know that we are ready, Kalach-cha," said Zhjaeve, side-stepping around the golem. Qara followed her. Both of them were wearing warm clothes, and had decked themselves out similarly in protective charms and amulets. Though Kail knew a counterspell song, one that Lucas had taught her, she also knew that it probably wouldn't be very effective against someone as powerful as Sydney Natale. She was glad that her friends had thought of protecting themselves against magic.

"Let's go and see Khralver," she nodded to the githzerai. They walked down to the library, on the other side of the Keep, and managed to dodge Aldanon fairly easily. The Luskan delegate, as he called himself, was sitting at a table, idly thumbing through a book. He startled when he saw them, and blinked at their attire. Most likely, he hadn't seen so much jewelry on three people before.

"I am glad you've decided to meet with Miss Natale," he said, standing with a bow for them.

"How long will it take us to reach this meeting place?" she asked. It would be useful to know how far behind Bishop and Sand would be.

"Only a minute," he said, rooting through his pockets.

"What?"

"Oh, Mistress Natale has provided me with a scroll of teleportation, to get you to her all the faster."

"Wait a minute, this wasn't part of the arrangement," she said, her apprehension rapidly growing.

"But it is the only way we can reach Sydney. I came straight here from Neverwinter, whilst she went to the meeting place, to wait for us. I do not know where it is myself, only that this scroll will take us there."

"Then how do you know the place is even within Neverwinter's territory at all?" Qara fumed.

"Because Mistress Natale told me so! If you wish to change your mind, then it is entirely within your right, of course. But this offer will not remain open for much longer. Mistress Natale has already been waiting long for me to bring you to her. If you do not arrive soon, I believe she will return for Luskan, taking her information with her."

"We have no choice, Kalach-cha. We must go," said Zhjaeve.

"Qara? Do you still want to go ahead with this?"

"Why not? We're going to have to speak to the Hosttower mage no matter how we get there. This just means that we'll be there and back faster than we first thought."

"Very well, Khralver. Use your scroll. But I warn you, if there is any deception, you will be the first to die." She took the RAMP from her belt, flipped off the safety catch, and pointed it at his head. "Whenever you are ready."

His face pale, he raised an unsteady hand and began to read the incantation.

o - o - o - o - o

Having travelled by teleportation previously, in the form of the Illefarn Song Portals, Kail knew vaguely what to expect. There was blackness, and then some minor dizziness, and then a rush of light. Turning around on the spot, she noticed that they were in a clearing. All around them were small hills, barrow-like in their shape and size. There was only one way in and out of the clearing, but there was no sign of Sydney Natale. Or of Karnwyr.

"Where are we?" Kail asked, her weapon still aimed at Khralver. "And where is Karnwyr?"

"Who?"

"The wolf."

"Ah. Well, I'm afraid this was a humanoid-only trip. Miss Natale had to calculate the approximate mass of matter being teleported -- that is to say, your weights -- and she hadn't factored a large canine into it. Your ah... wolf... will have been left behind."

"And where is Sydney Natale?"

"This looks suspiciously like a dead end, to me," said Qara, magic crackling at her fingertips as her anger grew. For once, Kail did not feel inclined to rein her in. But before Khralver could respond, Kail heard footsteps, and two figures appeared on the path into the small clearing. One was Sydney Natale, and the other was a tall man in his thirties. He was unshaven, his dark hair slicked back, and two swords were sheathed on his belt. A myriad of scars criss-crossed his face, almost as if somebody had carved a chess board into it.

"Khralver, leave us," said Sydney, stopping a dozen paces away from their group. "We will speak more later concerning the... timeliness of your arrival, and the lack thereof."

"Y-yes mistress," their guide stammered, hurrying towards the exit of the clearing.

"Haha, don't wet yourself, dog," the man laughed as Khralver passed.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me... Captain," said Sydney. "And the gith, I see. And Qara -- your father is a mage of the Academy, is he not?"

"Yes, but we're not that much alike."

"I'll say, you're a dainty one," said the man, eyeing Qara in a most inappropriate manner. "You look to weigh a stone and two pebbles. Am I right?"

"You'll be able to judge for yourself when I'm standing on top of your charred body."

"Jalboun!" snapped Sydney.

"What? Just trying to make conversation with the fiery one, but turns out she's cold as the nethers of Icewind Dale."

"I can see why you're no longer an officer of Luskan. Now be silent, fool. I hired you for your brawn, not your tongue."

"Heh, yes _sir_. I'll just stand here and be a good lummox, you'll see."

"I'm sorry I had to send Khralver to fetch you," said Sydney, turning to Kail. "I would have come to Crossroad Keep myself, but too many eyes follow my movements."

"Who is your companion?" she asked.

"No need to speak of me like I'm not here," the man grinned. The scars on his face curved inwards towards his lips. "Name's Jalboun. Former sergeant in the Luskan army. Presently scraping by with menial mercenary work. Pleased to meet you, whoever you are."

"Scraping by?" sneered Qara. "No wonder you have those scars all over your face - or is it just how your face looks normally?"

"Please pay Jalboun no mind," said Sydney. "We have important matters to discuss. You know of True Names? I've brought a scroll containing the true names of each of the Shadow Reavers. The Hosttower of the Arcane keeps a record of True Names of all its members, to use against them should they ever violate their contracts."

"Why didn't you use Garius' True Name to stop him?" Kail asked her.

"Garius and his supporters had all of Luskan wrapped around his finger up until he conducted the ritual. And by then it was too late. After the final ritual, the Arcane Brotherhood tried to use the True Names of Garius and the others, but they didn't work. They have ascended from their mortal forms and become... something else. Since they could no longer control Garius, the Hosttower was quick to divorce itself of any involvement with Garius and his constituents. The True Names I retrieved were among the records to be purged... just in time, in fact."

"What good are they if they won't work against the Shadow Reavers?"

"The Hosttower _assumed_ they were useless, but I suspected otherwise. My intuition is rarely wrong in such matters, and it has kept me alive many times. So I performed a divination on the True Names and they revealed a link. Unfortunately, I don't have the lore to decipher the results. You, githzerai. Examine this. What do you see? Well?"

"I can read these..." said Zhjaeve, "and I believe that they can be of use to us. Knowing the name of a being gives one power over it... and could weaken the Reavers enough to kill them."

"So you could read these names aloud?"

"The recitation is difficult, but I can give these voice, yes, b-"

"Then you are of use to me." The mage turned to Kail and Qara. "But you, however, are not."

"But we both wish to stop Black Garius," said Kail, putting on her best pleading voice. As she spoke, she curled the fingers of her right hand inward, reaching for the throwing knives in her bracer. "Why not work together?"

"Grovel all you like. The Hosttower does not negotiate or ally themselves with anyone - we _take_ what we wish. I have no need of you, and have no care for whether you live or die. You were merely a vehicle to deliver these two to me."

"Why Qara?"

"Forget this," said Qara. "I say we burn this Hosttower 'mage' and take the names ourselves."

"Ah, Qara, you would be a treasure to keep... if circumstances were not otherwise," said Sydney.

"If you're going to kill us, go on and try it, you witch... before your perfume does the job for you."

"Oh, Qara, I won't bother with you myself. I'll let my servant finish the job, as was intended."

"What... what are you talking about?" Qara asked, looking at Jalboun with confusion on her face. Kail shared her confusion; surely Sydney could not expect a mere mercenary to best someone of Qara's ability... and temper.

"My dear, the Hosttower has been promised your father's entire Academy as servants to train as we see fit, to use as we see fit. The only price is that we deal with you... permanently. It really is something we can't pass up... even considering your natural talent. It is a waste of such potential... but it is best to quench a fire before it grows out of control. This," said Sydney, making a gesture with her hand, "is an Animus Elemental."

In the clearing, something... coalesced from darkness. The shadows combined to form... a dark humanoid. It looked remarkably like Qara, except for the fact that its skin was coal black and its eyes bright red.

"It is formed from your own power... your duplicate, really. And it will be your undoing."

As the Animus Elemental began casting a spell, Sydney and Jalboun were teleported away. Kail threw a knife at the Hosttower mage, but too late; it simple passed through the air where she had been standing.

Her friends did not stand idle. Qara immediately began casting spells at her 'duplicate', whilst Zhjaeve began chanting something in her own language. Kail fired a round of RAMP bolts at the Elemental, but they fell harmlessly to the floor a foot away from the Elemental's body.

"It's shielded!" Kail shouted.

"I'm working on it," said Qara, perspiration beading the young woman's forehead.

An acid-green arrow formed in the air in front of Zhjaeve, and was sent hurtling towards the Elemental. But it met a fiery missile and was incinerated, the two cancelling each other out.

With no better idea of what to do, Kail drew the Daystar from its scabbard and ran at the Elemental. At the very least she could keep it occupied while Qara and Zhjaeve worked their magic.

When a thick skin of stone sprung up around the elemental, she drew the Sword of Quickness and pushed a concealed button on its hilt to activate its power. With both swords she struck again and again with rapid speed, each successful strike stripping away the layers of the protective spell.

"Step back, Kalach-cha! said Zhjaeve. Kail heeded her words, jumping back from close quarters as the air around the Elemental began to ripple. Something happened, then. Energy, red and black swirling clouds of darkness, circled in around the Elemental. One minute it was there, and then it was simply... gone. There was nothing where it had been, not even smoke or ash. Kail didn't know what spell Zhjaeve had cast, nor did she want to.

With the elemental dead, Sydney was quick to reappear. But instead of posturing and gloating, she looked mortified.

"I... had not thought it possible. You have defeated it... destroyed it utterly," she said.

"Save it, witch," said Qara. "If that's your last trick, you don't have much of a future left."

"Dear Qara, you are quite a catch indeed. And such a temper. Jalboun, earn your pay and slay them."

"I'll double Sydney's wages," Kail said quickly.

"Heh, sounds like a fine deal," Jalboun grinned. "Been wanting to clobber this witch since we left Luskan."

"What? You traitorous wretch!" hissed Sydney.

Before anybody could react, Sydney teleported herself to the far side of the clearing and began casting a spell. Kail took a step forward, then stopped. Several figures stepped out of the bushes and trees that ringed the hills. She noticed a silver ring on one man's finger, and silently cursed. It seemed Sydney had hired the Circle of Blades, as well as Jalboun.

"Bah, assassins," the man grunted. He drew his weapons, one into each hand, and stood beside her, in front of Qara and Zhjaeve. When the assassins drew close, Kail struck out with the Daystar, choosing her opponent; and she wasn't short of opponents to choose from.

She paid no heed to Sydney, Qara or Zhjaeve as she fought the assassin. She knew she would be useless in a fight against a mage; whatever was going to happen with Sydney, Qara and Zhjaeve would have to deal with her alone. She already had her hands full.

There was one advantage she had; she had fought members of the Circle of Blades before. The only members of the group that had fought her were now dead. As a result, she knew what to expect. She knew their style, she could anticipate where they would strike. Two fell to her blades, and two to Jalboun, and they themselves sustained only minor injuries.

"Kalach-cha! Behind you!"

She turned at Zhjaeve's warning and found a shadow-black fiend bearing down on her, its claws ready to tear her throat. It took only a second for her to bring one hand to meet the other, brushing against the activation stone of one of her rings. As the creature struck, ready to rend the life from her, her body turned ethereal, and it passed right through her.

Sidestepping behind it, she touched the ring again, and her body returned to flesh and blood. She struck with the Daystar at the back of the devil's leg, thrusting the Sword of Quickness through its back at the same time. Its huge wings spread out, knocking her off her feet, and she dropped her weapons so she did not fall on them. Before the devil could move again, Zhjaeve cast a banishment spell and the fiend disappeared.

Bereft of her swords, Kail turned again to her RAMP, quickly pushing bolts into the casing. When it was fully loaded she aimed it at the last assassin, who was fighting Jalboun, and then began reloading it again. When spells began racing through the air, she jumped aside, rolling along the ground to avoid being zapped by a magic missile or a bolt of fire or electricity. She wasn't _quite_ ready to test out her necklace of spell resistance just yet. Jalboun, meanwhile, had also taken shelter away from the magic assault, and was hiding behind a boulder.

Suddenly, the flow of magic changed direction. Sydney had teleported to another side of the clearing, conjuring an erinyes at the same time. Kail rushed to intercept it before it could reach Qara and Zhjaeve, and soon found herself fighting for her life. Armed only with the RAMP, which she hadn't had time to reload before moving, and the skinning knife Bishop had given her, she slashed at the devil, jumping back whenever it struck out with its razor-sharp bird-like talons. Then, a sword appeared through its chest, and the creature fell to the ground.

"You owe me for that," said Jalboun, pulling his blade out of the fiend.

"And you owe me for the assassin," she said as she ducked to the side of the clearing again, the magical onslaught resuming once more around her. When she risked looking around the trunk of the tree she had sought shelter behind, she noticed Sydney tiring, the magical protection around her weakening. All it would take now was _one_ successful, powerful attack, and the mage would be finished. But Qara and Zhjaeve were also defending themselves against Sydney's magical offensive. Until the Hosttower mage was distracted, they wouldn't be able to overwhelm her defences.

Then, she spied the Daystar, lying on the ground halfway between herself and Sydney. Its blade shone with magical fire that would burn only the undead. Before she could talk herself out of it, she activated her necklace, the one that would keep out magical missiles, and sprinted towards the Daystar. Her movement caught Sydney's attention. The mage glared at her, and as Kail bent down to scoop the weapon in her hand, Sydney began casting a spell at her. Kail had no idea what the spell would be, but she knew she had to keep running, to keep Sydney occupied. As she drew closer she drew the skinning knife into her left hand, trying to make herself look as threatening as possible. Sydney had to believe that she thought she could kill her, that this was a true offensive.

And it worked. Kail found herself hit by a wall of invisible energy that sent her flying backwards, spinning through the air. She dropped her weapons and curled up into a ball, trying to make herself smaller, to minimise the area that would be hit when she landed.

When she did land, it hurt like hell. She felt the wind knocked out of her as she landed badly on her side, heard something _crack_ inside of her. All she could do, then, was lie on the floor, trying not to move, trying to breathe in a way that didn't send pain searing through her lungs.

"Kalach-cha," said Zhjaeve, crouching by her side. "Lie still."

The githzerai ran her hands briefly over Kail's body, and she inhaled deeply when the cleric's long, delicate fingers probed the area around her chest. With Zhjaeve blocking her vision, she couldn't see what was happening between Sydney and Qara, but neither could she draw air into her lungs to ask the question.

"You have two broken ribs, Kalach-cha, and one has pierced your lung. I will heal you, now. It will hurt, but you will be able to breathe after."

She nodded, and saw Zhjaeve enveloped in a cocoon of blue light. Healing energy tore through her body, burning and chilling her at the same time. She screamed as she felt her ribs moving back into position, the bone knitting itself back together. Her lung was repaired an instant later, and she took a deep breath, feeling cold air rushing into both lungs once more.

"Guess she wasn't as powerful as she thought," said Qara, standing over the pair. Her face was dripping with sweat, her hair a shade darker than normal with the dampness.

"Is it... over?" Kail asked.

"Over, and you owing me a thousand gold," said Jalboun. "That's double what Sydney was paying me."

"How would you like a job at Crossroad Keep?"

"Really? An actual job? No more mercenary work?"

"No more mercenary work."

"Lady, you got yourself a new soldier."

"Come on," she said to Qara and Zhjaeve. "Let's get back to the Keep. I don't know about you two, but I could use a long, hot bath."


	81. Games

_81. Games_

Kail had no idea where she was. Luckily, Jalboun did. And it turned out that Sydney's meeting place was less than two hours away from Crossroad Keep. The march back was tiring, but not dangerous; her Greycloaks had done a decent job at routing bandits in the lands surrounding her Keep, and she silently thanked herself for having the foresight to send them on such wide patrols.

What she wanted most of all, as she passed through the Keep's gates, was a warm meal and a hot bath. What she got was Ammon Jerro, apparently in a bad mood.

"Did the Hosttower mage offer anything of value?" he asked without preamble. She didn't bother with a sarcastic reply. They were mainly only good on Nevalle.

"I claimed the True Names of the Shadow Reavers from her corpse," she smiled sweetly.

"And you think the names they held while they were human will have power over their new forms? I am not certain."

"Know that the Kalach-cha is correct in this," said Zhjaeve. "It will give us the power to make them vulnerable - and once we have done that, we may undo them."

"Indeed? Show them to me."

"Know that I am entrusted with them and will keep them with me. They have not been copied elsewhere... what I hold is the only record of them."

Kail could almost _feel_ Zhjaeve bristling with defensive indignation. Zhjaeve did not approve of Ammon's methods of dealing with the King of Shadows, and the feeling was quite mutual. He seemed to consider the githzerai weak, for some reason.

"Enough," she intervened, before they could start a war. "We need to trust each other if we are to survive."

"A wise decision," said Ammon. "Let me read these." Zhjaeve gave him the scroll they had taken from Sydney's corpse, and he studied it for a moment. "They might work. It is a slim chance, but better than nothing."

"These names carry power, and they are our salvation in this war," said Zhjaeve. "Furthermore, you know this. I can see in your gaze and hear it in your words. I recognise the script these names are written in, and how they may be shaped with voice. I may use them when the time is right... and know that I am the only one who can do it."

"You are mistaken. I think you will find the secrets of that script are as apparent to me as they are to you, so either you or I could use them as weapons... which I think benefits us both."

"Then we shall each be armed for the battle that awaits. Provide me with my own scroll with the names, and we shall each carry them as blades."

"Great!" Kail smiled, backing away from the two and towards the Keep. "I'm glad you could reach an agreement. Have Aldanon make copies. I have to go... do some stuff."

"But we must discuss how to form alliances," said Ammon.

"And there are further meditations you must partake of," said Zhjaeve.

"Later. For now, there is something very, very important I need to do."

o - o - o - o - o

"And then," said Kana, "there is the matter of taxes. It is time for tax collection once more. You must decide how much to tax your farmers. Lord Nasher has allowed us to put all of this year's taxes towards the fortification of the Keep, which is very generous of him."

Kail sighed. Her hair was still damp from her bath, her evening meal was only half-eaten, and already she had been swamped down by Kana and her paperwork. Still, the bath had been nice, even if it had taken the servants almost half an hour to fill it. She had spent almost an hour in there, washing the blood and dust and dirt from her body. Now, every part of her was clean. Her hair smelt like soap, her skin felt fresh, and she had cleaned under every finger and toenail with a wooden pick. It wouldn't last for long, no, but until she was required to kill somebody or travel somewhere, she would be clean.

"Tax them lightly," she said at last. "We're all starting out here, and the season has been lean so far. The farmers don't have very much. We'll rely on merchant taxes until we have a working agricultural system."

"Alright. I'd like to send Bevil with the collectors. He seems to have a way with pe..."

The door to her office slammed open, and Bishop stalked angrily into the room. Kail sighed. It seemed like somebody was _always_ upset around the Keep. There were always arguments and issues that needed sorting out. She just wished that she didn't have to deal with everybody elses' bad moods. After all, she herself never had bad moods -- did she? It wasn't fair for everybody else to have them.

"Out," Bishop growled to Kana.

"I'll wait in the corridor until you're finished, Captain," said Kana, though she didn't hurry from the room.

"If this is about Karnwyr," said Kail, once the door was closed again, "I didn't know that we'd be teleported to the meeting place."

"It's not about that."

"Oh. Well, I didn't know that Qara used to spit in your drinks. She only told me as we were making our way back. Don't go too hard on her though, she's a teenager. They have... hormones. Everything's the end of the world with them."

"It's not about that either."

She sat back in her chair, racking her brains for a moment. Bishop's moods tended to fluctuate wildly. Anything could set him off -- random questions, people, sometimes even just a look. What was irritating him this time, however, she had no idea. She hadn't even spoken to him since she'd gotten back. But surely _that_ couldn't be it?

"Alright, what's making you slam doors and stomp around like a lizardling with a toothache?"

"That man you brought back with you. What's he doing here?"

"Recruiting Greycloaks, mostly. We need to boost their numbers, and I've already got Bevil on tax assignment and Katriona busy with..."

"He's a Luskan." _Ah_, she thought, kicking herself for not remembering that the only thing he hated more than her uncle was Luskans.

"Torio's a Luskan," she pointed out.

"She's your prisoner."

"Sal's a Luskan."

"He cooks good food."

"Sand studied in Luskan for like... a thousand years or something."

"He's an elf. Elves don't count."

"Do you really think this one man poses a greater risk than, say, the King of Shadows?"

"You won't have to worry about the King of Shadows, wildcat," he said, leaning across the desk, casting a long shadow over her, "if you wake up with a knife in your back."

"If he tries anything, successfully or not, then you can... play with him. Does that satisfy you?"

"It's decisions like this that will get you killed."

"I will get rid of Jalboun, if you want," she smiled.

"What's the catch?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her sudden complacency.

"Name it as your price. I'll set him free or give him to you, to do whatever you want with. And it will cancel out all debts between us."

She lifted her chin, meeting his golden-brown eyes squarely, and could almost see the turmoil swirling in his mind. For a moment his certainty wavered. Then his gaze hardened again.

"Bah! He's not worth it." He lifted a hand, running a finger under her chin. "I'll keep the debt you owe me, wildcat. But don't expect me to watch him for signs that he's double-crossing you. You'd deserve nothing less, for taking him in and letting him stay."

"I have Kana watching over him, and Bevil and Katriona will be working closely with him. I've told them to keep their eyes well open."

"Fine. But you can't trust him as far as Grobnar can throw him."

"You know," she said, leaning back, "Luskans are people too. The people of Ember, like Alaine, were Luskans. Were they as bad as you claim?"

"They... aren't the same. They're not from the city. You can't trust _anybody_ from the city. That place breeds corruption."

"Is that why you torture them?"

"The fish aren't biting today, wildcat," he smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Get back to your taxes, or whatever."

He whirled from the room, and Kana returned, taking his bad mood within her stride, as any good officer would.

"Domestic problems, Captain?" she asked.

For a moment, Kail wondered what she meant. Then she remembered that she'd allowed rumours to circulate about her and Bishop. It seemed the Greycloaks had kept the rumours going, in her absence.

"'Domestic' would not be a problem, Kana," she sighed. "Just... forget about it. It's not important right now. I _did_ ask you to keep an eye on Jalboun, didn't I?"

"Several times, Captain."

"Good. Well then... let's get back to taxes."

o - o - o - o - o

"I'm bored, stumpy," Neeshka groaned.

"Go steal something, tiefling," Khelgar said, belching loudly. He was already on his eighth beer of the night. Since Shandra's funeral, he had been drinking more and more. It didn't help that he had nothing to fight. If he had an opponent he could bash with his fists, his mood would improve. But not even Casavir would spar with him anymore. Not when he wore the Gauntlets of Ironfist, at least.

"That's just it. I can't. There's nothing to steal. This is Kail's Keep, anyway. I would never steal from her."

"Then get yerself a drink and join me."

"I'll pass, thanks. Things are getting a bit windy over here, if you catch my drift."

"Nothing wrong with that, it's natural. Better out than in, they say."

She let his words wash over her as Bishop stalked into the tavern and ordered an ale from Sal before taking his usual place in front of the fire. He didn't seem to be in a good mood, which meant _he_ wouldn't be much fun to talk to either. And Elanee was still moping and insomniac, and Sand had gone into _serious_ study-mode, building himself a fort of book piles in the library and sequestering himself inside it.

_I swear, everybody but me is in a bad mood around here_, she thought. _Perhaps I should make my own fun. Maybe I can have fun __**and**__ fix things at the same time. Then everybody would thank me for fixing their problems. Hmm... I'm going to need some help, though._

She stood, aware that Khelgar was talking to her, but ignoring him. He probably wouldn't even notice that she was gone. Quietly, she tiptoed to Bishop, circling his chair a few times as she watched him sipping his ale.

"If you don't stop that, I'll stick a dagger in your foot," he said. "Let's see how quiet you can be then."

"I'm... not bothering you, am I?" she smiled.

"What do you want, vixen?"

"Your room. The one in the Keep. It has a fire in it, doesn't it?"

"Of course. All the rooms have fires in them."

"I thought so. Thanks." She sauntered to the door, tiny cogs spinning her head.

"Stay out of my room!" he called after her. She merely let the door shut with a bang, pretending not to hear him.

o - o - o - o - o

Inside the Keep, the lock on one of the bedroom doors went _click_, and Neeshka smiled. She replaced the picks in her sleeve and pushed the door open, putting it to behind her. In one hand she carried a lantern, and this she held up now so she could see in the darkness.

The bed was against the wall, and on the opposite wall was the chimney and hearth. The small fire was cold; it hadn't been lit all day. But she ignored the fire; she had already lit one, tonight. This one wouldn't be needed. Instead, she crept to the desk, shivering when she noticed the holy symbol of Tyr on it. She sent a silent prayer to Tymora, asking the Goddess of Luck to shield her act from Tyr's eyes. Or, well, not-eyes, since he allegedly didn't have any.

She rifled through a drawer until she came to a piece of parchment, then retreated from the room, carefully locking the door behind her. Then she replaced the lantern on the wall, and made her way to another part of the Keep.

o - o - o - o - o

The library was the most dangerous area of the entire Keep. Though the room was now structurally sound, massive stacks of books leant precariously against each other, ready to topple over and crush somebody even if they were _looked at_ the wrong way. Plus, Aldanon lived there.

Using all of her thiefly skills, Neeshka crept through the stacks and shelves, her senses alert. As a rule, she didn't like libraries. There wasn't usually anything of value to steal in them. On occasion she had been asked to steal valuable tomes from private collections, but she preferred stealing shiny things, things that sparkled and glittered and could be melted down for cold, hard gold.

She heard a mumbling voice approach, and pressed herself between two stacks, holding her breath and trying desperately not to touch either of them. One wrong move now would send them crashing down around her, leading to discovery. Then she would never get free, and too much was at stake here. This was possibly the most important mission of her entire life so far.

Thankfully, the mumbling passed; she had survived another near-Aldanon encounter. She made sure she stepped out from the stacks before exhaling in relief. Then, she continued on her journey.

It truly was a fort. All it needed was a flag, a drawbridge and a moat, and it would be the most defensible position outside of Helm's Hold. Slowly, she circled around it, until she found an entrance she could crawl through. When she stood, she found the books stacked even higher than her head height, and she wondered, briefly, if he was trying to construct a wizard tower. Wizards did that, sometimes. They went crazy and built towers and performed mad experiments. Nobody really knew why. They were just the humanoid equivalent of beavers... or something.

She had to pass down a couple of corridors made entirely of book piles before she found him, hunched over a table like some sort of mad... wizard.

"Ahem," she said. Slowly, he turned his head sideways to look at her.

"I'm very busy," said Sand.

"I know, and I won't disturb you for long. I just came by to say that I'm sorry for the other day. For throwing a book at you."

"I forgive you. Now, please leave."

"In fact. I'm so sorry that I want to take away the offending book and burn it, so it can never be thrown at you again."

"I don't know what you're up to, and I don't care," he sighed, taking a book from a drawer and handing it to her. "Just take the book and don't ever bring it back."

"You just... happened to keep it in your top drawer?" she asked casually.

"Out!"

"Right. Outing. Thanks. Bye!"

She hugged the book to her chest as she crept out of the library. The first part of her plan had been implemented. Now for phase two; what she liked to think of as 'Operation: Get An Ally'. With a smile, she took the steps down to the dungeon.

o - o - o - o - o

"Hey there, little man," she smiled at Grobnar. He was staring despondently at a beetle he was holding in a pair of tweezers.

"Oh, hello Neeshka," he said, putting the beetle in a jar.

"What are you upto?"

"Collecting beetles and bugs and the like."

"Why?"

"Well, do you remember that giant spider we met in the goblin caves beneath Ember? The one that called itself 'Kistrel'?"

"Yeah, and am I glad to see the back of _that_ thing."

"Well, it's here in the dunge... er... cellar. I thought I'd find it something to eat."

"It's _here_? In the _dungeon_?"

"Cellar."

"Right. But... what's it doing here?"

"I think it wants to live here. You don't think Kail would mind, do you? I'm pretty sure she already knows about it. I mean, giant spider in the cellar is a bit hard to miss."

"I doubt it. As long as it doesn't... ah... eat the Greycloaks."

"Good point. Perhaps I'd better double-check with her."

"Later, Grobnar. Tell me... do you remember that store room we found down here, whilst we were hunting for treasure that one time?"

"You mean that small, cold, lightless store room with no way in or out except for the single heavy door with a large ominous bolt on the outside, but a suspicious lack of handles on the inside?"

"Yeah, that's the one. We... ah... we still have that, right?"

"Why, of course. I've been using it to store beetles in."

"Excellent," she grinned. "Well, not about the beetles. They'll have to come out for a while. But I sorta... need to borrow the store room. For a night or two, maybe. And I need your help."

"Oh? You have some sort of daring new invention in mind?"

"Not... exactly."

"Then some sort of new species of tree frog that needs identifying?"

"I'm... not really that big on amphibians."

"What do you need me for, then?"

"Well, have you noticed how everybody's been really down lately?"

"Not really. But it's probably because Shandra died. You... don't want me to build a new Shandra, do you?"

"No!"

"That's good. I've never been fond of the necromantic arts. They're really difficult to get one's head 'round. So... what do you need my help for?"

"How many monsters can you conjure?"

"Monsters?"

"Or illusions. It doesn't matter either way. Just something big and relatively harmless, like orcs or ogres or something. Kobolds or goblins would even do, if you can make enough of them."

"Well, spell-wise, I could probably make about five or six, half of them real summoned creatures and the other half illusions."

"Hmm," she said, narrowing her eyes. "That's not enough. What if I could get you some scrolls?"

"With enough scrolls I could create an army of horrible monsters. But... why would I do that?"

"Oh, we are going to be doing so much _more_ than doing that," she grinned. "Here's what I need; four blankets, enough food and drink for two people for three nights, about twenty scrolls of monster summoning, a rare tome that you may possibly have been keeping aside for a rainy day before bringing it out to show people, a couple of sleeping potions, a couple of stamina potions, a lantern, a box of candles, two of the Keep's messenger children, a sketch of Kail, and I need you to write me a couple of letters."

"What sort of letters?" he asked suspiciously.

From her pocket she took two piece of parchment and spread them out on the table in front of him. He stared at them for a moment, examining the scripts; one was blocky and formal, the other was elegant and flowing.

"I say, this looks rather like Kail's writing," he said, point at the elegant script.

"It is."

"And if I'm not mistaken, this one is Casavir's writing!"

"Correct again. I need two letters, one written in each style. I'll tell you what you need to write when we have everything else."

"This isn't going to be something nefarious, is it?"

"Of course not! I'm doing this to _help_ people!" _People who're too stupid or pig-headed to help themselves,_ she added mentally.

"Oh, very well. I'd like to help people too. What do you need me to do first?"

o - o - o - o - o

"I think," said Grobnar, collapsing on the table, "we have everything."

"Time to examine our inventory," said Neeshka, holding out a list written on paper. "First, enough food and drink for two people for three days, plus four blankets and some random potions, a lantern and a box of candles."

"Check. Er, are you sure you want me to put all this food in this basket?" he asked, holding up the picnic hamper.

"Yep. Just put it all in there, and put the blankets on top. We made enough space in the store room, didn't we?"

"Plenty of space, alright. I'm sure we could fit another three people in there, if we wante..."

"It's just going to be two, Grobnar. Now, put the basket inside, light the lantern, leave the box of candles next to it, and the door ajar."

"Done!"

"Next... about twenty scrolls of monster summoning."

"Check."

"A rare tome that you've been keeping for a rainy day and haven't shown anybody yet."

"Check."

"Dare I ask what this tome actually _is_?"

"It's all to do with the history of magic, especially the Hosttower of the Arcane and the Neverwinter Academy. It goes into intricate detail about all the different schools of magic, and the thaumic principles behind..."

"Yes, yes, it sounds good. Next, Aldanon's steamy romance novel, with sketch of Kail sleeping drawn on a piece of parchment and put inside as a bookmark."

"Check... and very creepy, by the way. I hope I got all the details right... I haven't seen Kail sleeping since we last had to camp out, and that was just before... before Shandra..."

"It's alright, Grobnar," she said, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I'm okay. Really, I'll be fine. Helping you to help others has really helped take my mind off how I wasn't able to help Shandra."

"I'm... uh... glad. Anyway, next, two perfectly forged letters."

"Check and check," he said, holding them up. Neeshka plucked one from his hand and opened it. It was the one with the flowery script, and she read it aloud.

"Casavir, Please meet me in the store room in the cellar when the clock strikes eight. There are things we must discuss, away from prying eyes and ears."

She closed the letter and gave it to one of the children waiting patiently by the stairs.

"Take this to Casavir," she said. The child saluted, grinned, and ran off. She took the second letter, in the blocky script, opened it, and read it. "Elanee, Please meet me in the store room in the cellar when the clock strikes eight. There are things we must discuss, away from prying eyes and ears."

She gave the second letter to the second child with instructions for it to be delivered to the druid.

"Things are going perfect so far!" she grinned gleefully.

"Forgive me for being the voice of questioning pessimism, but exactly _how_ is locking Elanee and Casavir inside a small, dark, cold room for three days going to help them feel _better_?" said Grobnar.

"I'll... ah... explain it when we're finished. What time is it now?"

"Fifteen minutes to eight."

"Right, we'd better get into place. We have to time this just right," she smiled.

o - o - o - o - o

"I say, that went rather well," said Grobnar.

"Rather well indeed," said Neeshka. From inside the store room she could hear cries for help and banging, but she ignored it. Unlike the Collector's Vault, the store room was not air-tight. They would be able to breathe in there, and they had enough food and water for the time being. They would just have to learn how to use their time constructively.

"Is this okay?" Grobnar asked, looking up from his brush. In his other hand he held a bottle of the glowstone water he had used to reactivate the construct.

"Hard to say," she said, squinting at the door. "Oh yeah, I know." She blew out a few of the candles in the room, and the writing on the door began to visibly glow. "'Do not open - door is CURSED'. Splendid! Now for part two."

They blew out the rest of the candles and left the dungeoney cellar, making their way up the stairs and to the library. Neeshka stopped him outside the door.

"You're going to have to go in. I... I've already been in there once today. I just can't do it again."

"I don't mind Aldanon," he assured her. "What do you need me to do?"

"Just go in and fetch Sand out."

"I doubt he'll come with me. You know what he's like when he's researching."

"Then tell him... tell him Startear is here to see him," she smiled.

"Oh my, what a marvellous idea. I've been meaning to ask Startear some questions myself. I quite wanted to know how..."

"Grobnar. He's not really here. That's just what you're telling Sand."

"Oh, really? Well, that's a bit disappointing. But I suppose it's the best way to get him out. I'll be back shortly."

It didn't take long for Sand to appear, with Grobnar right behind him. The wizard actually looked so pleased that she found herself unable to let him down.

"Sand! Startear was _right_ here!" she said, affecting her best shocked voice. "He just teleported back to Sigil right in front of my eyes! It was amazing!"

"He... left? Just like that?" Sand asked skeptically.

"Yeah, he said something about a... er... thaumic thingymabobber spell and the mass dynamics of the... um... look what he left for you!" she said, holding the book up. "He said he came across it on his planar travels and thought you would want to see it right away."

"Really? Let me take a look at this tome," he said, accepting the book and thumbing through the pages. "Hmm, interesting. This is really quite fascinating."

"Yeah, he said that you should probably..."

"Do be quiet, dear girl, this tome required my immediate attention. Why, it's going to take me _days_ to go through this, and think of all the lost lore I shall learn."

He wandered back into the library, his nose so close to the book that he wasn't even looking where he was going. But he appeared to know his way around the place blind-folded, so she left him to it.

"We have done good here tonight, Grobnar," said Neeshka, wrapping one arm around his shoulders which was quite difficult as he _was_ very short. "Now, are you sure Kail is going to be busy for a few hours?"

"Oh yes, when I poked my head around the door she was quite ensconced with Kana. I think they were moving from taxes to merchant tithes. Sometimes I feel very, very sorry for Kail."

"Me too. She pushes herself too hard. But we have to move quick. Let's proceed to part three."

Out on the walls of the Keep, one of the Greycloak captains was giving her the evil eye as Grobnar began casting illusions and summons down onto the plains outside the Keep. The farmers had already been evacuated into the courtyard, so the monsters wouldn't be able to hurt anybody.

"I've cast as many as I can as extended spells," Grobnar said when he was finished. "That means they'll stay around for longer."

"Good work, Grobnar. Now, I need you to stay here and control the illusions. Do you think you can do that?"

"I'll stay up here all night, if I have to."

"Splendid. And you, captain... you remember my instructions?"

"We aren't to go out and help no matter what we see," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Good! Now, I have to go finish part three and implement part four. I'll see you in the morning, Grobnar."

"Good luck, Neeshka. And thank you for letting me help."

She climbed down the ladder on the wall and hurried to the tavern. For a moment she stopped outside, taking deep breaths. Then, continuing the deep breaths, she burst through the door, practically falling over herself.

"KHELGAR!" she shouted, panting as if she had just sprinted for a mile.

"Bah, I hear ye, lass, no need to shout."

"Khelgar, come quick! Orcs... orcs and ogres... and... and.... kobolds! Outside! They're attacking the Keep! All of the Greycloaks are sick or drunk or injured... you're our only hope, you _have_ to stop them!"

"By Clangeddin's beard!" he roared, picking up his axe and dashing to the door faster than she had ever seen him move before. He left, his armour clinking as he ran, and she smiled. When Bishop picked up his bow and started to follow, she barred his way, planting the heel of her hand on his armour to stop him getting through.

"Not you," she said, with a wicked smile.

"What's going on, vixen? If there's orcs and ogres and kobolds then we need to... there... are no orcs and ogres and kobolds. The orcs are all up at the Well. I've scouted the forests around here, and I'd _know_ if there was a kobold den nearby. They stink. I don't know what you're playing at, but the dwarf isn't going to be happy when he gets out there and realises he's been made a fool of."

"He'll do no such thing. Right now, he's elbow-deep in monsters. Have a seat. Relax."

He watched her warily, like a hunted thing, but returned to his chair and picked up his ale. For a moment she lounged by the bar, then brought over a stool, perching on it in front of the fire.

"You know, I was up in Kail's room last night," she said.

"Good for you," he grunted.

"It gets awfully cold in there."

"The Keep's draughty. Old things usually are. Explains Ammon Jerro, doesn't it?"

"You should do something about it."

"Well, I _did_ suggest we extract information from him then get rid of him."

She slapped the back of his head.

"_That_ is beginning to become an annoying habit of yours, vixen," he said.

"You should do something about Kail having to sleep in a cold room."

"Why? She has servants to carry her firewood, doesn't she?"

"Yes, but you know how stubborn she is. She won't light the fire."

"More wood for everyone else."

"Well, if you won't go and keep her bed warm, maybe I'll just ask Casavir to lend his help instead."

"You put the tin-head in her room and he'd probably have a heart-attack," Bishop snorted. "The paladin wouldn't have the first clue what to do with a woman."

"Oh? Well, maybe he's been getting some pointers. I took this from his room," she said, bringing out a book from behind her back. "It's one of Aldanon's romance novels. A pretty steamy one, from the looks of it. Casavir's been reading it lately."

"Aldanon doesn't have romance novels."

"He does. Ask Sand if you don't believe me."

"I don't believe you, vixen. Now go away."

"I particularly like the bookmark. It's such a... caring touch," she said, holding up Grobnar's sketch of Kail sleeping. It was really quite convincing; he was a decent artist.

"You drew that yourself."

"Right, me with my fantastic art skills. Just because I can steal it and fence it doesn't mean I can draw it, you know. Hmm... I particularly like this passage, the one that he had bookmarked. It's pretty descriptive. Like this part here, where the protagonist moves closer to caress his lover's heaving... what's this word?" she asked, holding the book up for him to see.

"Fine, fine, what do you want?"

"Like I said, I don't want my friend to spend her nights in a cold bed. She deserves more."

"Fine, I'll go keep her bed warm. Just... stop pointing that thing at me."

"Good. If you change your mind and need me to read any more of the passages he has earmarked, just let me know," she smiled.

She closed the book and slipped it back into her hidden belt pouch. Then she waved good night to Sal and left the tavern. As she walked back to the Keep she bounced her lucky coin on the palm of her hand. Tonight had been a good night. At the very least, she had cheered up Grobnar and had an enormous amount of fun herself. It would be even more fun to watch what happened next. These were going to be a very _interesting_ three days indeed.


	82. Three Days

_82. Three Days_

Kail covered her mouth with her hand and gave the biggest yawn of her life. Before her, the words on the paper blurred, running into each other, dancing around the page and generally appearing to be having a great time. Which was more than could be said for her.

She didn't know what time it was, only that it was after eleven and before midnight. Although she _could_ use one of the powers of the Ritual of Purification to wash away her tiredness and the aches in her muscles, she didn't want to become too reliant on them. Reliance led to dependency which led to weakness. She couldn't afford to be weak. Now, when she had so much to do, she had to remain strong. And that meant getting some sleep.

"We'll have to continue this tomorrow, Kana," she said, cutting her officer of in mid-sentence. She didn't even know what they were discussing, anymore. Possibly the Keep's drains.

"Very well, Captain. You have had a busy day, after all. I shouldn't have kept you up so late."

"Don't worry about it. I might sleep in for a bit tomorrow, if I can. Then I need to start putting some wheels in motion. Good night, Kana."

"Sleep well, Captain."

Kail circled her shoulders as she walked the Keep's corridors. The cold room did little for her aching joints, but her pain was nothing compared to the suffering that her friends in West Harbor had endured. She would not allow herself a moment of comfort until she had avenged their deaths, until she had ensured that the King of Shadows would not hurt anybody ever again. Hot baths didn't count as comfort, though. They were merely good hygiene practice.

The golem towered over her as she approached. With its bladed arm and cold, armoured exterior, it was quite menacing. She lived with the perpetual fear that because the construct was of Illefarn origin, the King of Shadows would somehow be able to reactive it, to recall it to its service. If that happened, very little would stop it. It would carve its way through the Greycloaks like a hot knife through butter.

"Good Mister Pointy," she said, patting its body as she passed. In her room, she shut and bolted the door, then leant back on it, her eyes closed. Sometimes she regretted bringing the construct back for Grobnar to work on.

_I must __**really**__ need sleep,_ she thought as she rested against the door. _I thought I just saw Bishop in my bed_. She opened her eyes, and blinked. He really _was_ in her bed, lying on his stomach beneath her blanket, leafing through a bunch of papers he held in his hands. A few candles had been lit near the bed, providing minimal light, but the fire itself was unlit.

"What are you doing in my bed, and how did you get past the golem?" she asked, stalking towards the bed.

"Sleeping, or trying to. And the golem likes me."

"Hey, those are private!" She snatched the documents from his hands.

"Boring is what they are. Kana's reports for the past few days... hardly exciting bedtime reading."

"You can leave right now," she said, putting the documents back in the desk drawer where they belonged.

"I can't do that."

"You must be _delusional_ if you think..."

"I don't think anything, wildcat. Your thief sent me. It seems she's had enough of you sleeping in a cold room. She's already been in my room and lit the fire, so you get a choice of either going there and sleeping in the warmth, or staying in here with me."

"And what do you get out of it? I'm sure sleeping in a cold room is no fun for you either."

"Of course not. The second you're gone I'm lighting the fire in here. I'll have it burning nice and big. Oughta heat the room pretty fast."

"This is _my_ room. I'm not being chased out of it by Veedle, by you, or by Neeshka. If you want to play games, then fine, play them, but you'll be playing them in here, in the cold, because I'm not going _anywhere_."

She stepped behind the mahogany screen and began changing into her nightshirt. As she undressed, the cold air made her skin turn to goosebumps, and she shivered as she pulled the cold material over her head.

"What did Neeshka do, to make you go along with her plans?" she called out as she finished disrobing.

"Trust me, you don't want to know. But I think it's safe to say that we're in the tiefling equivalent of the full moon. She's gone crazy."

"Maybe it will pass," she mused. "By the way, I wanted to thank you for keeping an eye on Bevil whilst I was away."

"No need to thank me, she blackmailed me into it."

"Can't you admit, for once, that you've done a good, selfless thing?"

"No. It wasn't a good, selfless thing. She gave me a choice of watching over your friend, or the gnome, or old scarface. It was an easy choice, believe me."

She stepped out from behind the screen and blew out the candles on the wall that were closest to her. When she noticed Karnwyr lying on the bed, at the foot, and watching her, she knelt down in front of him. He still had the necklace around his neck, and she wondered how long it would stay on for. Mostly likely it would catch on something the first time he went into a forest, and break off. But it wasn't like she had a lack of the things, so she left it on him.

"How does it work?" she asked, looking into the wolf's eyes. "Do you see and feel what he sees and feels, or does he see and feel what you see and feel, or does it work both ways?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Elanee's told me a little about her connection with Naloch. I was wondering if it's the same for you and Karnwyr."

"Oh, that. It works both ways."

"So if I do this," she said, tickling behind the wolf's ears, "you feel it too?"

"Stop tormenting him," Bishop growled.

"So you _do_ feel it," she grinned.

"No. He chooses what to share and when. Otherwise we'd drive each other crazy."

"And he'll live for as long as you do, right?"

"Right."

"Have your eyes always been that colour?"

"No. Are you going to ask questions all night?"

"Yes. It's what I do. Even in my sleep. I also mumble and sing to myself and fidget constantly. And I snore."

"No you don't. I've watched you sleep."

"You've watched me sleep?" she asked, a questioning eyebrow raised.

"Don't flatter yourself, wildcat. I've watched everybody sleep. It's not like there's much else to do, on a night watch shift."

It made sense. More sense than him watching her, at least. She was probably the least interesting person to watch in the history of... forever. Unless you had a penchant for watching people overwhelmed by paperwork, of course. She didn't question his explanation as she slipped into the bed. Immediately, it felt warmer than usual. Nowhere near as warm as it would have been with the fire burning, but still a few degrees closer to a tolerable temperature. She blew out all but one of the remaining candles, then snuggled down under her blankets.

"You stay on that side of the bed," she warned.

"Fine by me. Aren't you going to blow that candle out?"

"No. I like to watch the last candle burning down as I fall asleep."

There was silence for a while as she watched the candle. The flame was not only hypnotic, dancing from side to side as gentle breezes from the draughty windows blew it softly, but it also reminded her of her own struggles. Like the candle, she too was a single, lone flame, trying to hold back the darkness, trying to overcome the shadows that crept inexorably forward.

"You don't have that crossbow of death under your pillow, do you?" Bishop asked at last.

"I could burn you to cinders in the blink of an eye and you're worried about the RAMP?"

"Fair point."

There were no more words as she resumed her watch of the candle. But her observation didn't last for long. The last thing she saw before she closed her eyes was the candle, burnt halfway down, swaying from side to side. She always managed to fall asleep before the flame died away and the darkness took it.

o - o - o - o - o

"Help!" Elanee called hoarsely as she banged feebly on the door.

"Perhaps you should save your energy," Casavir suggested. "You have been calling for help for what must be hours now. I do not think anybody is coming."

"I don't understand what's happened," she said, sinking down into the floor, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

"It appears the door has swung shut, trapping us in here," he replied.

Why wasn't he more worried? Why was he so calm about it? By the light of the single candle he appeared to have not a care in the world. It was infuriating!

"The door didn't swing shut, it was purposely closed," she sighed. "Why aren't you worried about this?"

"Because Kail will be down eventually, and she will free us."

"What makes you think she'll come? She rarely comes down to the dungeon. It reminds her too much of Garius."

"Cellar. And she will come because I received this note from her," he said, producing a piece of paper. He gave it to her to read, and she sighed again.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but Kail will not be coming." She took out her own note and gave it to him. "Look familiar?"

"It... it is my writing, but I did not write this note."

"We've been tricked."

"But who would want to lock us in this small room, and why?"

"Neeshka. Because she's a... a... well, never mind what she is."

"Perhaps we have been locked in here by a minion of the King of Shadows. Perhaps it is his plan to separate us all from Kail, then he can strike at her freely."

"Right," she said dryly. "Because the King of Shadows would go to all the trouble of making us sandwiches and crackers and cheese, and providing us with water and red wine, including two glasses. And he'd give us blankets to make sure we're comfortable and warm, and candles to banish the darkness."

"I... suppose you're right. What is to be done?"

"Done? Done? Nothing can be done!"

"Elanee, you must calm yourself. We cannot allow ourselves to become hysterical. We have food, drink, warmth and light. For now, we are well. In the morning, Grobnar will return to continue his experiments, and we can make enough noise for him to hear us and free us."

"Then why wasn't he here when we came down? And why hasn't he heard us shouting for the past few hours?"

"Perhaps he is having a break. A very _long_ break," he added when she subjected him to a level gaze.

"I... I can't stay here overnight," she said, feeling panic setting in once more. "I have to enter reverie."

"Surely you can do that in here? You must have meditated in many ruins and tunnels. I remember seeing you meditate in the orc caves at Old Owl Well many times, often in near darkness."

"That was different!" she said, her teeth chattering.

"You are freezing cold. Come and take this extra blanket. We will warm up together, sleep for a while, and in the morning we will resume our efforts to gain attention."

"Warm up together? What do you mean?"

"Two bodies are warmer than one. We must conserve body-heat... it is something I had to do often with the men and women at Old Owl Well. Sometimes we had to huddle together like sparrows in the snow, to stave off hypothermia."

"I'm not huddling with you! Your... your armour is too cold!"

"But easily removed," he assured her, beginning to unbuckle his armour.

"No! You... might need it! In case we are attacked!" she said desperately.

"By vicious bottled beetles?" he asked, holding up a glass container that held a stag-beetle inside it.

"That's er... right. They might be magically enchanted beetles. Who knows what Grobnar has done to them?"

"I think we are safe for now, Elanee."

"Why do you even wear your armour inside the Keep? It can't be comfortable."

"One can get used to discomfort. I prefer to be ready for battle at any time. There, now you shouldn't be bothered by my armour." He put the heavy plate aside and pulled the basket closer. They had already gone through it, for anything that might have been of use in escaping, but he rooted through it again anyway.

"What are you looking for?" she asked.

"A sandwich that doesn't have cheese on it. I'm not all that keen on cheese."

"You're going to eat, at a time like this?"

"What else should I do?"

"I... don't know."

"Can't you simply use a spell to empower either of us, then we can break down the door?"

"I don't... have that spell prepared."

"Then what about something to give us greater protection against the cold?"

"Nothing. Sorry."

"Do you have any spells ready that might help us?"

"No, I... I skipped reverie last night. I was too worried to meditate."

"Too worried about the land?"

"Amongst other things."

"Then we shall have to keep warm the old fashioned way." He took the fourth blanket from the basket -- he already had two, but she had declined a second -- and held it out to her. Sighing, she took it, and wrapped it around herself.

"That's much better, thank you. I'm warming up nicely."

"Elanee, I can distinguish between a cold person and a warm one. Now, please come here. I won't have you shivering all night when I can do something about it. I promise, I won't harm you."

"I know you won't." Realising that her choices were either letting him warm her or spending the night freezing cold, she crawled along the floor and into his open arms, trying to slow her breathing rate. She could do this. She could spend a single night in his arms, listening to his heartbeat, feeling the warm and strength of his toned, muscular body beneath hers...

"I think I need a drink," she said with a choke.

"Water, or wine?"

"Water. Definitely water."

"Whilst I don't approve of alcohol, I admit that wine _would_ warm you better than water."

"I'll take the water. Hopefully the wine won't be needed."

"You know," he said thoughtfully as he poured a cup of water from the canteen, "I have to wonder why Neeshka has provided us with so much. We have enough food, drink and candles to last days. But why?"

"Don't worry. We're getting out of here tomorrow if I have to bang on the door and shout until I lose my voice."

o - o - o - o - o

_Day One_

Kail was woken by birdsong. They might have been chaffinches, or perhaps sparrows. Whatever they were, they were depriving her of precious sleep. With a quiet groan, she shuffled instinctively closer towards the warmer part of the bed as her mind tried to force her back to unconsciousness.

For a moment she realised that something wasn't quite right, but she couldn't think, exactly, what it was. Then she remembered that there should be somebody else here; beds didn't warm themselves, after all. Well, magical self-warming beds, perhaps, but she had yet to come across one.

Slowly, she reached out, and when she felt nobody beside her she opened her eyes. The bed was empty, though still warm, so Bishop couldn't have been gone long. When she glanced at the bolt on her door she noticed it unlocked. For a moment she warred with herself; part of her wanted to get up and start the day, the other part of her wanted to stay in bed. A brief battle ensued, and the latter part of her won. Yesterday she had gained the True Names of the Reavers, which would weaken them greatly. Today, she deserved a little extra time in bed.

She pulled the blankets around herself, forming a cocoon of them around her body. Comfortable, warm, and surprisingly content after a good night's sleep, she closed her eyes and let herself rest for another hour.

o - o - o - o - o

"Khelgar? Khelgar? Wake up."

He grunted as somebody shook his shoulder, and he tried to get back to sleep. But whoever was shaking him was persistent, and he opened his eyes to a face he hadn't expected to see.

"Kana!" he said, or tried to say. His tongue didn't seem to want to work right now. "What are you doing in my room?"

"This isn't your room, Khelgar. It's the tavern."

He looked around and saw that she was right. And worse, the sun was streaming in through the windows. Bah! Nothing good ever came of sunlight. Underground was where he was happiest, with a mountain over his head and absolutely no sun whatsoever. It just wasn't natural, all that light.

"Well, uh, thanks fer the wake-up call, lass," he said, planning to find somewhere dark and quiet and sleep off the migraine that was banging around inside his skull.

"I came to tell you that the Captain wants to see you."

"At this hour? Bah, it's too early fer work, I say!"

"It's two o'clock in the afternoon, Khelgar."

"Like I said, too early."

"I think what the Captain has to say is important. Something about Clan Ironfist."

"Alright, alright, I'm on my way," he said, pushing himself up from the bar. He had, he realised, fallen asleep over it, on a stool. Oh well, he'd slept in worse places, and woken up on worse bars.

There was no sign of anybody else, except for Sal, in his usual place behind the bar, and Bishop with his wolf, at their usual seat in front of the fire. The ranger was a strange one, alright. He spent almost all of his time alone, with the wolf, not talking unless he was spoken to first. And when he did talk, it was usually to insult somebody. Sometimes there was good reason for the insults, and sometimes not.

"What's up with you, lad?" he asked as he followed Kana past Bishop. "Looks like you haven't slept a wink all night."

"Shut it, dwarf," Bishop scowled. Khelgar merely grunted, and left the tavern on Kana's heels. As far as insults went, it was a poor one. No effort at all. Even Princess Qara could have done better.

The Keep was eerily quiet. Normally there was _somebody_ around, but now the only folks he saw were Greycloaks and servants. It was almost as if everybody was hiding. Well, if it was hide and seek they were playing, they'd be waiting a long time for Khelgar Ironfist to find them. He didn't play games, unless they involved him hitting people with his bare fists.

Kana took him to Kail's office, letting him in the door and closing it behind him whilst she herself waited out in the corridor to give them a modicum of privacy. Kail, sitting behind her desk, looked refreshed and invigorated, for once. Obviously the fight with Sydney Natale yesterday, and the fresh air she'd gotten on the walk back, had done her the world of good.

"Thanks for coming, Khelgar," she said without preamble. "I'm sorry Kana had to wake you."

"Not to worry, lass. I had a busy night last night, I was just letting my sleep catch up with me."

"You... had a busy night?"

"Aye. A horde of orcs, ogres and kobolds attacked the Keep, and the Greycloaks were in no fit state to rally a defence. I had to go out there alone, one against an army of monsters. And I beat 'em, too. Every last one of them. Afterwards, the 'Cloaks took me to the tavern and bought me a round or twelve of drinks, to celebrate my victory."

"Did you maybe... take a blow to the head whilst you were fighting last night?"

"Course not! Why, just ask the gnome! He was there, watching me from the walls."

"Grobnar was there... but he didn't help you?"

"Nay, he just stood there and watched. He waved a few times though, so I knew I had his moral support."

"Right. Anyway... I wanted to talk to you about your kin. I think we could really use their help in the upcoming war. With an army of Ironfists by our side, we can't lose."

"Yer damn right, lass! I just know Khulmar and the rest of me kin will want to do their part, when they hear about the King of Shadows."

"What's the best way of convincing them? I could send a letter by courier, or perhaps maybe an emissary of Neverwinter or the Keep. I'm not sure how much I should play up Neverwinter's involvement, though."

"If ye ask me, lass, which you just did, I think it'd be best if ye took yer request to them in person. They'd respect you more for it, and ye'd be honouring them by visiting. Plus, ye can remind them exactly who found the gauntlets of Ironfist."

"You were there with me when we found them though, Khelgar."

"Aye, but it was you who brought me there. That's just my opinion, of course. It's what I'd do if I was in yer position. But if ye think ye don't have the time, I suppose an emissary would do instead. Can't say they'd come and fight on the word of some errand-boy, though."

"You're right, Khelgar," she sighed. "If I want the help of Clan Ironfist, I should go there myself and make my case before them. It's what I'd expect from others, in their place. Will you come with me, when I go?"

"Of course I will. It'd be good to see me kin again, and I can help ye to convince them to fight with us."

"Great. Thanks Khelgar, you've put my mind at ease," she smiled, looking radiant despite her bad haircut. "You can get back to the tavern now, if you like. Tell Sal to give you a drink, on me."

"Maybe later. I have to keep a clear head before the battle tonight."

"The... battle tonight?"

"Aye! Judging by the size of the army I fought last night, those ogres really want t' get into the Keep badly. My guess is they'll try again tonight, and I have to be ready fer them!"

"I see. Well, good luck. Let me know if you need any help."

"No need, lass. Ye just deal with the paperwork, and let Khelgar Ironfist handle the fighting."

"Right. Kana!" Kail called. The officer entered the room and saluted. "I need to speak with Elanee. Please find her."

"Right away, Captain."

Khelgar made his way back to the tavern as Kana rushed off in the opposite direction. He'd had more fun last night than he had for weeks. He didn't know what was making the monsters attack the Keep, but he was glad he was here to stave them off. Without him, the Greycloaks wouldn't stand a chance at protecting this place.

o - o - o - o - o

"I can't find Elanee, Captain," said Kana. "None of the guards have reported seeing her leave, so she must be in the Keep _somewhere_. I can organise the men and do a top to bottom search, if you feel it's prudent."

"No need. Bring me Bishop, instead."

"Yes, Captain."

"Kana?" she said, and the woman stopped in mid stride. "First, bring me Neeshka and Grobnar."

Kail leant back in her chair as Kana left the room. She didn't know exactly what was going on around here, but she knew that Neeshka and Grobnar were at the heart of it. This morning, after she had dressed, eaten breakfast and performed her morning exercises, she had sought out Casavir. She hadn't been able to find him anywhere, and nobody could remember seeing him last. On top of that, Bishop had somehow been cowed into sharing her bed, Khelgar had been fighting an army of monsters that had apparently appeared out of nowhere, and Sand had sent a message back saying he was too busy to come and meet with her.

It was a _very_ innocent-looking Neeshka and Grobnar who returned with Kana, which meant that they were guilty of something. When Kana left, Kail subjected them to an appraising stare for a moment as they began shifting uncomfortably on the spot.

"Grobnar," she said at last, and the gnome jumped. "I wanted to talk to you about the Wendersnaven."

"Oh, what a relief! I mean, err, marvellous, marvellous! What did you want to know?"

"Well, you suggested seeking them out, but I don't even know what they _are_. Can you tell me a little more about them?"

"The Wendersnaven are, by their very nature, said to be unknowable. Opinion is divided on what they look like... for all we know they could be six Neeshkas high..."

"Hey, don't use me as a unit of measurement," the thief interjected.

"Sorry. They could be twelve Khelgars high, or so small that they cannot be seen with the naked eye."

"And you think these... sages... in Port Llast can shed some light on the matter?"

"Oh, I certainly hope so! Their names, I believe, are In-leeeeva and Nodoob. At least, I think that's how they're pronounced. I've never been too good with names. But they've been studying the Wendersnaven almost all their lives."

"They've been studying something that they can't see or hear or touch?"

"That's right!"

"I see. Well, the next time I'm heading to Neverwinter I think I'll go a little further and stop at Port Llast. When I do, will you come with me?"

"Why, I'd love to!"

"Good. That's all, for now. Oh, before I forget, Neeshka... Khelgar is expecting another army of monsters, tonight. You'll see that he's not disappointed, won't you?"

"Of course." Beside her, Grobnar nodded emphatically.

"And I hope that Sand won't be kept busy for too much longer?"

"Oh, not too much longer, I think."

"And Elanee and Casavir... whatever you've done with them, they're not in any danger, I assume?"

"None at all."

"Good. You may go now."

"Hey, did you sleep well last night?" Neeshka asked, her face the picture of innocence.

"Best night's sleep I've had in weeks," she smiled. "What exactly did you do to Bishop, by the way?"

"Nothing at all, it was entirely his idea. I think he was just looking for an excuse to find a way into your bed, y'know? We'll ah... go and get started on... some stuff." Neeshka hurried Grobnar out the door, and Kana entered with a bemused smile on her face.

"What was that about, Captain?"

"Nothing to worry about. But I wouldn't count on finding Elanee any time soon, if I were you. Will you go and fetch Bishop for me?"

o - o - o - o - o

"Ah, 'Captain'... I hear I'm the consolation prize," said Bishop as Kana closed the door behind him.

"Do you know anything about the lizardmen of the Mere?" she asked, before he could start a new argument.

"The usual. Big, territorial lizards, some smarter than the others. They eat each other... and pretty much everything else, including people."

"How would you get a message to them?"

"I wouldn't. I'd leave them alone, unless they were coming after me. Then I'd put arrows through their heads."

"Elanee suggested that an alliance with them might be beneficial."

"She also suggests eating nothing but leaves is good for you. I'm not all that inclined to agree with her ideas."

"Humour me. Please?"

"Fine. If you want to get a message to the lizardmen, you need to find someone who knows their way through the Mere, who won't be an easy target and who won't end up in the bottom of a lizard's cooking pot."

"Someone like you?" she smiled.

"Not a chance, wildcat," he said, sitting on the edge of her desk and folding his arms across his chest. "Your friend, Bevil, told me that the Mere's changed. That the waters have risen and swallowed the old paths, exposing new ones in other places. And rumour has it that the Claimed Lands are expanding, swallowing whole sections of the Mere. I'm not suicidal enough to go back there."

Kail sighed, and resisted the urge to boot him off the edge of her desk. She did, after all, have to share a bed with the man, at least until she could figure out a legitimate way of keeping him out. Of course, bolting the door and telling the golem to stop him from entering was the easiest way, but that would be cheating. No, Neeshka had started this game, and Kail was going to win it by using her wits.

The problem of the lizardmen would just have to wait until Elanee came back from... wherever Neeshka had put her. She should have known that Bishop wouldn't be much use in the matter, but it wasn't as if he had Elanee's experiences of the lizardmen. Most humans saw them as little more than large predators. This situation needed a druid's touch.

"You know, Neeshka said that it was all your idea," she smiled.

"And you believe her?"

"No. Of course not. I can tell when somebody's lying through their teeth. At least, when Neeshka is. Don't go getting comfortable, though. You won't be sleeping there for much longer."

"Face it, wildcat, the only way the thief will be satisfied is if you go up there and light your fire. She won't accept anything less."

"I could sleep in one of the spare rooms."

"And tomorrow she'll light the fires in all of them. You can't win this one."

"I can... if you tell her I've lit the fire."

"She wouldn't believe me. Besides, this is your game, yours and the tiefling's. If you want me to lie, you'll have to come up with an incentive."

"What sort of incentive?"

"I dunno... what have you got?"

"Gold?"

"Don't need it, and would get my own if I wanted it."

"A new weapon?"

"I like the one I have."

"New armour?"

"This _is_ new armour."

"A horse?"

"I prefer my own two feet. Easier to track from closer to the ground."

"Come on, Bishop. Everybody wants _something_."

"And what do _you_ want?" he asked, his amber eyes reflecting the light of the low sun that shone through the window.

_This shard gone from my chest. To not be hunted by the githyanki. To not have to face the King of Shadows. To be free of this Keep, and of my lands and titles. To have West Harbor back. To go back to a time when everybody was still alive, when Bevil and Amie and I had no cares in the world. To go back to the time before Valear left._

"Nobody can give me what I want," she said, opening her eyes, unaware that she had even closed them as she thought of home.

"And you have nothing I want."

"Fine. Then I'll fix my problem myself. I don't really need your help anyway. I just thought it would be faster."

"Glad we're straight."

"So. You're right about one thing. I need to find a way through the Claimed Lands sooner or later, to strike at the King of Shadows. Any thoughts?

"Actually, yeah. There must be some way through the Claimed Lands. I mean, some of the King of Shadows weaker minions will need to report to him. Like those Shadow Priests you ran into, or Garius. Can't imagine them walking through the Claimed Lands."

"Garius used some sort of projected image method of communication, to get his orders," she shrugged dismissively.

"Still, if there _is_ a way of getting through the Claimed Lands, it would be useful to know it. And maybe the King of Shadows will even end up revealing it, if he needs to get somebody to him fast enough."

As soon as he finished his sentence, ideas began to bloom in her mind like wildfires. She stood and hurried towards the door, afraid that if she tried to grasp the idea too firmly it would fly from her mind and she would never find it again.

"Where are you going?" Bishop called.

"I have things to do. Thanks!"

She gestured for Kana to wait at the door and hurried down to the library.

o - o - o - o - o

"Can you hear anything?" Neeshka asked. Grobnar, paused at the heavy door with a glass beaker to his ear, jumped in fright.

"Nothing. They were banging for over an hour earlier, but they seem to have stopped now."

"Was that a joke?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at the gnome.

"A joke? What do you mean?"

"Never mind. How did it go with Sand?"

"He wouldn't let me into his castle of books, but I found Aldanon, and he gave me these," he said, holding out six scrolls.

"What are they?"

"Long story short, they summon wyverns."

"Aren't wyverns... dragons?"

"Only by very distant relation. You see, dragons have six limbs -- two rear legs, two front legs, and two wings. Wyverns have only four limbs... they lack the front legs. Plus they employ poison as a defence, and they lack many of a dragon's abilities. They have no breath weapon, they can't fly very far, and they don't have magical abilities."

"So they're not really dangerous?"

"Oh no, quite the contrary. A wyvern is still quite capable of rending a man's flesh and swallowing him in a few tasty wyvern-bite-sized pieces. I could summon them one after the other to keep Sir Khelgar busy for a couple of hours."

"It will have to do, I suppose."

"Er... Neeshka?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you really think we're doing the right thing? I mean, I'm sure Khelgar is having fun now, but once he realises the threat isn't real..."

"Are those wyverns real?"

"Of course."

"Then the threat is real. Just because _we're_ the ones controlling them doesn't make them any less dangerous."

"Well, what about Casavir and Elanee? I don't think they'll be pleased when we finally let them out."

"Leave them to me. I'll tell them it was entirely my idea."

"I saw Bishop earlier and he looked pretty angry. And very tired too, for some reason. I don't think he's enjoying this as much as we are."

"Did Kail look happy to you?"

"Well, not as happy as somebody who's just been given a puppy, but happier than she has for a couple of weeks."

"Right. She said it herself. Good night's sleep. And she actually smiled. As far as I'm concerned, that makes everything we're doing just and right."

"But what about Sand? We're distracting him from important research on the King of Shadows!"

"He always gets grumpy when he's researching the King of Shadows. We've just taken his mind off it for a couple of days. Aldanon and his assistant are still researching, and I'm sure Ammon and Zhjaeve are contributing too."

"Say Neeshka, why haven't we tried to cheer up Qara?"

"Because Qara's always a miserable bi... that is to say... I don't know of anything that would make her happy right now. Well, apart from a personality transplant, that is."

"I suppose you're right."

"Relax, Grobnar. We've gotten through the first day, haven't we?"

"There's still a few hours of it left."

"But nothing will go wrong. We have two days left. Then we'll let Elanee and Casavir out, and Sand will have finished his book, and we can tell Khelgar that he's defeated the enemy hordes."

"And Kail?"

"No reprieve for Kail, I'm afraid. I have to keep that game going to the end. When she gives in, I'll call it a day."

"I suppose I should go and look for the best places to summon these wyverns, then," he said, holding up the scrolls.

"You do that. I'll go and check on Khelgar, make sure he's not too drunk yet. I'll meet you up on the walls in two hours, and we can go over our plan with the Greycloaks."

o - o - o - o - o

Kail stared at the huge pile of books in the library. They seemed to have been stacked into defensive positions, designed to keep out intruders. Somebody had mischievously placed a flag atop one of the piles -- it had the letter 'N' on it. No surprise there.

"Are you sure he's in there?" she asked Aldanon.

"Oh yes, quite sure. He's been inside since last night."

"Thanks, Aldanon."

"My pleasure. By the way, have we met before?"

She ignored the old man and made her way into the fortress of books. She crawled through a small opening and explored inside it, carefully passing down corridors between book piles and the shelving. When she finally found Sand, he was poring over a book, making notes on paper with a quill.

"Sand?"

"Hmm?" he asked, not bothering to look up.

"What are you doing?"

"Studying this wonderful tome that Startear left for me."

"Startear... left you a tome?"

"Yes, just last night in fact."

"Did he say anything else about his wizard tower?"

"I don't know, I didn't speak to him myself. He had to return quickly to Sigil, but he left the tome with Neeshka."

"Ah. I see. Could I talk to you for a moment? It's about the King of Shadows."

"You have my undivided attention," he said, turning a page of his book and writing something down on the paper.

"I was just talking to Bishop..."

"My sympathies."

"Yeah, thanks. Anyway, we were talking about how to get to the King of Shadows through the Claimed Lands, and he gave me an idea."

"Aldanon's working on it."

"I know. But what if we can find a faster way?"

"How?" he asked, looking up from his book for the first time since she'd arrived.

"He said that if there's a way through the Claimed Lands, the King of Shadows might accidentally reveal it if he had to get somebody to him quickly."

"That's true."

"So what if that somebody is one of us?"

"One of us? Ah, you intend espionage. It will never work."

"Why not?"

"Who would you send?"

"Casavir."

"I know you don't like Casavir, but that's no reason to send him off to his death at the hands of the King of Shadows."

"I don't dislike him. But he's experienced in combat and I trust his judgment... well, enough to trust him with this."

"He's a paladin."

"Paladins_ can _fall."

"Not without a reason."

"We could find a reason, I'm sure."

"Your plan would be perfect, were it not for one small fact."

"And that is?"

"It's insane," he said, returning to his book.

"What? Why?"

"My dear, creatures of the Higher Planes... devas, planetars, solars... as well as good-aligned gods and their servants, can often sense creatures of the Lower Planes as well as the undead. But this works conversely. If you send Casavir into the Mere, he would be a shining beacon of light and goodness and he would draw all of the undead creatures to him like giant, frenzied, two-inch-fanged moths to a flame. Then he would die, probably quite painfully."

"I... hadn't thought of that," she admitted.

"If you want someone to spy for you, you need somebody who doesn't look like a tasty morsel to the King of Shadows. It has to be somebody who he thinks he can actually use. Send Qara."

"I don't trust Qara. Bishop would never risk his life like that, and Ammon would never agree to even pretend to serve the Shadow."

"What about Neeshka?"

"No."

"She _would_ make an excellent candidate."

"I'm not sending the closest thing I have to a best friend into the Claimed Lands to spy on the King of Shadows."

"If you don't think it's safe to send Neeshka, then you shouldn't ask it of anybody else, either."

"Alright, forget it, it was a bad idea," she sighed.

"It wasn't a bad idea, just one borne of desperation. Have patience, and more will come to you."

"I wish more allies would come to me."

"Ah, this is the part where you start talking about your daily struggles and I return to my book."

"I get it, Sand. I'll leave you in peace."

"Thank you. And fear not... Aldanon will come up with something eventually. Until then, just do what you can."

o - o - o - o - o

Several hours later, Kail washed her hands and face using cold water in the gilded wash stand. After drying her face on a towel she slipped her night shirt over her head, swearing as the material caught on a piece of wire in her hair. She ripped it out, and a long feather came with it. Most of them had already fallen out, though a few still clung stubbornly to her hair.

"Need help?" Bishop called from the bed.

"You're practicing chivalry now?"

"Chivalry wasn't what I had in mind."

"And just what did you have in mind?" she asked, stepping around the screen. "You keep making these little comments and seditious invitations but you're remarkably slow to actually follow them through."

"Seditious, huh? That's a big word. I'm not sure I know it."

"You're all talk, is what I'm saying. This is simply a game to you, isn't it? You say things because you think I'll get upset, or flustered, or offended, like Qara does, and you like to see people thrown off-balance. Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I'm not bothered at all by your smart-alec remarks and enticing suggestions."

"That's it exactly. You've figured me out. Well done you," he said idly as he fluffed up his pillow. Well, technically _her_ pillow, just on his side of the bed. Not that he _had_ a side. It was just the side that she allowed him to temporarily use. On the foot of the bed, Karnwyr whined for her attention, and she stroked his head.

"You're spoiling him," said Bishop.

"By giving him attention?"

"Attention, scraps of food, gold necklaces. How many wolves have _you_ seen running around wearing necklaces recently?"

"It's an amulet of spell resistance, I thought it might be useful in the fight against Sydney. If you're jealous of the wolf, I have more going spare."

"I don't want a bloody necklace. The best way to fight mages is to not stick around."

"And yet you were willing to follow behind us to meet Sydney," she smiled.

"Because she was a Luskan, and therefore in need of a few arrows through her head."

"You could have followed us without telling me. You didn't have to warn me, or suggest taking Karnwyr."

"Right. I could have just stepped out in the middle of an ambush and hoped that you wouldn't mistake me for an enemy and shoot me or run me through with one of your many bladed weapons. You have an impressive collection, by the way. I'm sure Lucas would be proud."

"That is the worst attempt at topic-changing I've ever seen, but I'll let it pass because I'm tired."

She blew out all but one candle and hopped into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin and allowing her body to shiver to heat up. As before, the bed was warmer than it would have been had she slept there alone. Bishop was wearing a plain shirt and light pants, which were probably warmer than her long shirt. Maybe she should look at getting some more effective winter bed-wear.

Lying on her back, she watched the silk of the canopy overhead moving very slightly in the breezes that blew though the draughty old Keep. She couldn't see fine detail up above, by the light of only a single candle, but she could see the movements easily by the shadows that the material cast; the longer the shadows, the greater the movement appeared to be. Funny how the shadows had never disturbed her, before she left the Mere. Now she watched them cautiously, aware that each one might be hiding an enemy, or might be an extension of the King of Shadows himself. Her thoughts, as her eyes slowly closed, were not pleasant.

A piercing shriek tore through the silence of the night, ripping her mind back to consciousness and making her jump almost out of her skin. She sat up in bed, her heart racing, her hearing strained for any further sounds.

"What in the hells was that?" she asked aloud at last.

"A wyvern. Go back to sleep," said Bishop drowsily. She looked at him and noticed his eyes closed; he didn't appear the least bit concerned about the unnatural scream.

"What do you mean? There aren't any wyverns around here."

"That you know of." He opened his eyes and they seem to absorb the candlelight, reflecting it and glittering, his pupils wide to make the most of what little light was available. At the foot of the bed, another pair of eyes shone gold as they watched her. "There aren't any orcs around here either, but that didn't stop them from putting in an appearance last night."

"You think this is Neeshka's doing again?"

"I told you, she's gone crazy. Tomorrow it will be pit fiends, or something. Now will you lie down? You're letting all the cold air under the covers."

She lay down again, pulling the covers up and around her. She finished shivering for the second time that night, but lay with her eyes wide open, listening for any more wyvern cries. None followed, and eventually the moon crossed the sky, shining through a slight gap in the curtains. The sliver of silver moonlight shone on her face, but she was too warm to get up and close them properly. Instead, she closed her eyes and rolled over onto her side.

When she opened them again she found herself looking into unblinking eyes that, blocked from the candlelight behind her, were light hazel-brown in tone.

"Are you watching me?" she asked.

"No."

"What are you doing, then?"

"Trying to decide how ridiculous you look with those feathers in your hair."

"And you can't do that by daylight?"

"It's more fun in the dark."

"Right. Well, have fun. I'm going to sleep now."

She closed her eyes, making a conscious effort to relax every muscle in her body. She would never fall asleep, she knew, if she remained tense. But the tension was a hard feeling to fight. She wasn't used to having somebody sleeping so close to her before. Well, not like this, anyway. She was always surrounded by her friends when they were forced to make camp on their many adventures, but it wasn't the same as having somebody in her bed. Bedrooms were supposed to be private places, not somewhere that the general populace slept.

To keep her mind distracted, she tried to recall every instance when she had camped rough since leaving home. The first time was in the Mere, with Khelgar, then later in crypts, with the addition of Neeshka. Then had come Elanee, and another few instances of camping in wilderness. After that had come a few days of reprieve in the Flagon, where she had begun to become accustomed to a bed once more. Then off to Old Owl Well for more camping fun. After that had been camping in Luskan territory whilst rescuing Shandra, and then camping in the Duskwood during her trial. Since then had been Arvahn, the road to Jerro's Haven, and a half-dozen other places where she had pitched her proverbial tent and lain awake looking at the stars. Now all she had to look up at was a silk canopy.

When she realised she wasn't asleep, she opened her eyes again. Bishop had managed to fall asleep at last; his eyes were closed, his breathing deep and regular, and his face was relaxed. The constantly on-guard, hunted look that he wore during the day was gone, making him look younger than he usually appeared.

For a moment she had the childish urge to reach out and touch his cheek, to make sure it was really him, the same man he was when awake. She ignored her impulse. Of course he was the same man. Who else could he be? She would only wake him if she touched him, and he might react instinctively in defence. Besides, she didn't even care. She would soon think of a way to beat Neeshka at her game -- she would! -- and then all of this would be a thing of the past.

She rolled over, onto her other side, and looked at the candle that was on the verge of burning out. She closed her eyes quickly; the light giving way to darkness was something she didn't want to see. She had to believe that she had a chance. She had to believe that, for once, the candle would not extinguish, that the darkness would give way before it.

o - o - o - o - o

_Day 2_

"Here's the thing," said Kail over breakfast the next morning. "There are things I need to know about you, if we're going to make this... relationship... work. I know we're both new to this sort of thing... trusting people, I mean. But I won't lie. I need you, and I know that you need me. We have to learn to trust each other, otherwise it's just not going to work. I know there are dark deeds in your past, and things that you would much rather keep secret. But if you can't trust me, then we might as well just give up now and go our separate ways. I have questions... I've had them for a while... and I would like answers, if you're finally ready to give them."

"What do you want to know?" asked Ammon.

"Where did you get the Sword of Gith?"

"I suppose I should tell you that much at least," he sighed. "That way, if you ever lose it, you'll know how to find it again. To begin with, all I knew was that Gith had taken her sword to the Lower Planes after her conflict with the illithids, to seek an alliance with a dragon-queen. It is there that I began my search."

"But surely you didn't just wander, searching aimlessly? That would be like me searching for a needle in a haystack the size of Faerûn."

"Or larger. No, of course I didn't wander, looking at random. There are many creatures in the Lower Planes... powerful creatures, with eyes that see all. I sought one of them, a baatezu known as the Still Lord. He is imprisoned, and has been for a long time, but he knows more than any other, and sees further than any other. I made a bargain with him, and from him I learnt the location of the sword."

"Did you find Gith, too?"

"No. She had become... separated... from her blade during her travels. Whether she still lives or not... I do not know. When you finally reforge the blade, if you ever lose it, then you can seek its location again from the Still Lord."

"Making pacts with devils... it doesn't sound very healthy," she said, suppressing a shudder.

"It is not. But the agreement I made with the Still Lord was small in comparison to the pacts I have made with other devils and demons. And, in a way, I benefitted from our agreement. Though the Still Lord is imprisoned, his servant, Mephasm, is free to roam the Planes at will. That is how he first entered my service."

"Do you have any regrets?"

"Very few. Everything I have done, I have done to protect the realms. I do not have time for regrets."

"Your Ritual power... what does it do? How can it help us to defeat the King of Shadows?"

"It binds shadows to each other in a powerful web. You yourself took the ability that can harm the undead, yes?"

"That's right."

"If you use your ability on an undead creature or shadow that is caught within my web, all creatures in that web will be burnt by your cleansing ability. This will help us if the King of Shadows ever splits his essence into many forms. We can strike at them simultaneously. You must understand, however... what you perceive as the King of Shadows is actually its external form; the body of the Illefarn Guardian. The King of Shadows rests within this construct. Our Ritual powers will allow us to break the external shell of the Guardian, but you must destroy the King of Shadows itself with the Sword of Gith."

"Perhaps we can remove the shard from my chest, surgically," she suggested. "Then we can reform the sword to its entirety, and you can wield it once again."

"Hmm..." said Ammon thoughtfully, and she knew that the idea was an attractive one to him. "No, it is too risky. Such a procedure might kill you, and the Rituals that you performed would be lost with you. The githzerai is right about one thing... you cannot be allowed to die. Nor can I. If we sacrifice our lives to successfully destroy the King of Shadows, then that is all well and good. But until then, our lives are too important to be thrown away. You must remember that, and take care in all that you do."

"You don't think we'll survive in battle against the King of Shadows, do you?"

"I am... unsure. I have survived once, but I found myself cast down to the Lower Planes, and the Sword of Gith was broken in the process. All that I got for my efforts was the King of Shadows' banishment to the Shadow Plane for twenty years."

"How did you... escape... from the Lower Planes?" she asked, fascinated by his tale. He had lived for so long, done and seen so much, held so much power in the palm of his hand... and yet he was willing to sacrifice everything he had to protect Faerûn from the King of Shadows. She was, slowly, beginning to respect Ammon Jerro. True, he was hardly going to win any personality prizes, but she couldn't doubt his determination and dedication.

"Ah, my escape, yes. It was quite recent, and brought about by men trying to understand more than their tiny minds could cope with. To put it plainly, I was summoned by mages who sought information about the King of Shadows. They were careless and incompetent, and I escaped."

"These mages were from Faerûn? I find that remarkably... convenient."

"Hardly. But I'm sure you will appreciate the coincidence. The mage who summoned me was a man called Garius. I believe you've met him."

"Garius! Your tale makes more sense to me now. He summoned you in the Hosttower, and you escaped. You then made your way to Neverwinter and began hunting for the shards of the Sword. You killed Dalren, Gentry and Hawkes in the process, then returned to your Haven and began summoning your army once more."

"Yes. And believe me, twenty years of torture in the Lower Planes is nothing compared to what will happen to my soul once it is forced back down there. I have new blood on my hands, and new deeds that must be accounted for."

"Did you truly have no idea that you had family still alive?"

"No. I thought that they had all been killed in the first war against the Shadow. That any of them survived is remarkable. I suppose the Jerro line is more resilient than I had thought. Or, it was. That line will now end with me. But... I did not intend to kill Shandra. Had I known that she was my kin... I regret her death more than any other I have caused."

"I only knew Shandra for a short time, but I learnt much about her life. If you like, I could tell you about her. Give you a little insight into what your grand-daughter was like."

"I... would like that," said Ammon.

"Then I think I should start at the beginning," she smiled.

o - o - o - o - o

"And then," said Casavir, "I was sent to become a squire with a man named Sir Emon. I was the second squire he had at the time, which was quite unusual for knights back then. Usually, knights have only one squire, but his first squire's master had died suddenly in battle with..."

Elanee nodded at his words, but she did not hear them. She had suggested, several hours earlier, that they share stories of their childhoods to pass the time. Hers had been quite a brief story; 'My mother died in child-birth, my father was killed by orcs, and I was raised by druids who found me in Merdelain, crying amongst the corpses'.

Casavir's stories, by comparison, were far, _far_ longer. It seemed his life had been influenced by a great many people; his family, knights, other apprentices, lords and ladies... and he named them all, telling anecdotes of them all as an accompaniment to his main recounting. It wasn't that Elanee didn't care about his story; she _did_. She just didn't care about all the faceless people she had never met and never would. Instead of making the story of his life about _him_, he made it about everybody else.

As she sat and nodded, she tried to contact Naloch once more. All she had to do was contact her companion who could them make his way into the Keep, catch Kail's attention, and lead her down here. But it just wasn't _working_. She had been without proper reverie for so long that her mind felt lost, like she was floating in a sea of fog. In part, she knew it was because she was losing her connection with the land. The King of Shadows was tainting everything, and she could feel it growing darker, and somehow less real.

Not only could she not enter reverie, she also couldn't shift out of her elven form. Had she been able to turn into her bear form, she could easily have smashed open the door with sheer brute strength. But, like her ability to cast spells, her shifting skills had become victim to her sleepless nights and days.

She watched Casavir's face as he talked. Why was she attracted to him? He was a human. Yes, his features were pleasing to look at. Yes, his body was nice and strong and warm and had held her protectively through the night. Yes, his eyes were piercing and attentive, and his voice was like warm honey wrapped in silk and smothered in chocolate, and it made her spine tingle just listening to it. But that didn't mean she had to be attracted to him.

Perhaps it was something simpler than that. She hadn't met many humans before, and the ones she _had_ met hadn't been very much like her. Casavir, on the other hand, was similar to herself, only his obligations were to his god, to Tyr, not to the land. Perhaps she was simply missing the Circle so much that she was projecting her feeling of loneliness and her desire for acceptance onto him.

Clearly she needed to get over Casavir, and quickly. In all probability they would be spending another night in this room, and he would want to make sure she wasn't cold, which meant another night in his arms, and she just didn't think she could stand that. She would rather get it over and done with now. After all, when a limb grew too gangrenous to be healed, it had to be amputated. It was exactly the same principle here. Casavir's presence was preventing her from reaching reverie and stopping her from contacting Naloch, so she should do something to make sure he wouldn't want to hold her in his arms again tonight.

She leant forward, closed her eyes and kissed him, her lips tingling warmly where they met his. Naturally, he found it hard to continue talking, and had to be quiet, which was simply an added blessing. For some time she let her lips linger over his, kissing gently at her whim. When she was sure he wasn't going to start talking again, she pulled back, and opened her eyes.

"My lips were cold," she said by way of explanation.

She had rarely seen surprise on his face before. Often grim resignation, when he thought nobody was looking and was being broody and introspective, and sometimes anger, when somebody mentioned Bishop or Kail's life was threatened, but surprise was something he was usually good at masking.

"They... ah... felt quite warm to me," he managed at last.

"Can I give you a piece of advice that I should have given you a long time ago?"

"Of course."

"Kail loves a man who left her and travelled over a thousand miles to serve his god. She will never give her heart to anybody else, least of all to somebody who will place her second on his list of priorities. You can wait until the end of time, but she will never feel for you what you feel for her."

"I know."

"Oh."

"But why are you telling me this now? And why did you say you should have told me a long time ago?"

"Twenty-three years ago, or thereabouts, I was given a task by my Circle. I was told to watch a child who was injured during a fierce battle in her home village in the Mere. A piece of a powerful sword, a relic of the past, was lodged in the child's chest, and we feared that it would do her harm. So I watched, and I watched the child grow up into a woman. But even when she was grown, and an adult, I still thought of her as a child. To elves, twenty-three years is not a very long time at all, and I forgot that humans mature more quickly than we do.

"I still wanted to protect her. I knew that she was constantly in danger, and wished to surround her with people who might care for her welfare, as I did. I saw your attraction for her and knew that you cared for her safety, and I thought I could use you to help me keep her safe. For using you like that, I am sorry."

"You have no need to apologise, Elanee. I might have done the same, in your shoes. But... now that you're telling me this, does that mean you don't care for Kail's safety anymore?" he asked worriedly.

"Of course I do," she said with a mirthless laugh. "But she is not the child that I watched grow up. She is not as helpless as I first thought her. She is a woman, and she is far stronger than I gave her credit for. Out here, away from the Mere, she has grown, and I have not. Now she has governance of this Keep, to keep her safe. She has Zhjaeve, who knows far more than I ever will, who will sacrifice her life for the 'Kalach-cha'. I look at myself and wonder if I could do the same.

"Now that Kail has grown, and has her Keep, and her ties to Neverwinter, and her army with its sergeants and Nevalle to advise her on the matters of war, I know that she does not need me as she once did. I have always considered myself her guardian, not realising that she only ever considered me her friend."

"So now you want to be my guardian instead?" he asked, making a rare joke.

"I think my days of guarding are over. I already consider you my friend, but I would like us to be more than friends. At the same time, I fear what such a change might bring. You are human. I am an elf. You worship Tyr. I worship the land. My fear of rejection, of losing something more than my Circle, is what has kept me from telling you any of this before now. And it has played a small part in keeping me from reverie for the past couple of weeks. That is why I cannot cast spells. That is why I can do nothing to free us from this room. I cannot sleep, therefore I am useless."

She brushed away tears from her eyes before they could spill. It felt freeing to give voice to the words, to her own guilt, but she didn't want Casavir to see her crying. Paladins of Tyr surely never cried, and she could be at least as strong as a paladin, even if she couldn't sleep properly.

"Elanee," he said, lifting her chin to look into her eyes. "You are not useless. You have simply lost your direction in life. It happens to many people; you are not alone. Eventually you will find your way again, and you will be able to enter reverie, and you will help in the war against the King of Shadows. Until then, I will be here for you as you need me. Had I known before now how you felt... I too consider you a friend. You are wiser than anybody I have ever met. You are strong and resourceful and a caring person. On top of that, you are a beautiful woman. I don't know what tomorrow will bring, but I would like to be beside you through tomorrow, and the tomorrow after that. And I would like to know you better than I already do."

There were tears in her eyes as she kissed him again, but she didn't care. For the moment, she could forget about everything else. She was locked in a store room with a man who wanted her as much as she wanted him. The rest of the world could wait.

o - o - o - o - o

"What's going on in there?" Neeshka asked, making her way down into the cellar. Grobnar was, once again, leaning against the door with a glass to his ear. She was surprised he hadn't invented a new gadget for hearing, yet. The old glass-on-wall trick _was_ rather old-hat, after all.

"Hard to say, really. It's all a bit muffled."

"Here, let me listen," she said, nudging him aside. She only actually listened for about five seconds. "Okay, that's our cue to move our base to the other side of the Keep. Come on, let's walk for a while."

"Where are we walking?" he asked, following her to the door.

"_Anywhere_."

They ambled in silence for few moments, then made their way to the kitchen. It was one of the few safe places left, at the moment. They couldn't go to the tavern, because Khelgar was there. The dungeon was now _clearly_ off-limits, and the library was the domain of Aldanon. The kitchen, though, was home only to cooks and Qara, and the sorceress left as soon as she caught sight of Grobnar.

"Here," said Neeshka, holding out a scroll for Grobnar to examine. "This was the only one I could find in the entire Keep."

"Oh my. It's certainly very powerful."

"More powerful than six wyverns?"

"Yes, definitely."

"Too powerful?"

"No, maybe not. If we use this, Khelgar will quickly become something of a legend."

"Just think what it will do for Greycloak morale," she smiled.

"Yes, I suppose you're right. Tales of Sir Khelgar's heroic acts of bravery against the dangerous wyverns are already beginning to grow. I've even asked to compose a ballad about it."

"Great. How's Sand going, by the way?"

"When I popped my head inside his book-fortress an hour ago he was over half-way through the tome. I don't think the rest of it will take him much longer... the bibliography is about sixteen pages long."

"Then tonight is the last night."

"Yes, I suppose it is. You know, I've rather enjoyed myself, these past days. I feel like Shandra has even been with us, in spirit."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. What time is it, anyway?"

"About half past eight."

"Time for the scroll, do you think?"

"Perhaps we should warn the Greycloaks again."

"Trust me, when they see _that thing_ standing in the fields outside the Keep, they aren't gonna go rushing towards it," she grinned.

o - o - o - o - o

Kail was standing at the end of the corridor outside her bedroom, looking out of a window that overlooked the fields and forests that made up her immediate territory. How many people were out there, now? How many farmers? How many bandits? How many merchants risked the roads to get here? Were the people of Leeves in their beds already? The villagers was all but hers, and she had never even been there. Perhaps she would rectify that in the coming days.

As she stood watching, she rolled her shoulders, trying to work out the knot of pain that had been growing all day. Pain was something that she normally had quite a high tolerance for -- Lucas said that when you felt pain, you knew you were alive -- but this was persistent pain, and it had been getting worse.

There was a flash of light out on the fields, and something materialised from the darkness. Then, a small figure ran out from the Keep, screaming a dwarven battle-cry as it raised its axe above its head.

She heard movement behind her, and somebody stepped to her side, watching the same scene that she watched. They were silent, for a moment.

"That is a pit-fiend," she said at last.

"You are correct, Kalach-cha."

"Khelgar is fighting a pit-fiend."

"So it would appear."

"It's not an illusion. It's an _actual_ pit-fiend."

"Yes, Kalach-cha."

"Neeshka _is_ insane."

"Know that Neeshka simply wants to make things right. She sees things that are broken, and wants to fix them."

"I'm not broken," she said, turning away from the window.

"When was the last time you looked in a mirror, Kalach-cha?"

"I don't like mirrors anymore."

"Why not?"

"They're too honest. Good night, Zhjaeve."

"Wait, Kail."

She stopped, surprised that the githzerai had used her actual name. She hardly ever did.

"You are in pain."

"That's one way of putting it. It's like... an aching between my shoulders."

"I will heal you."

"Don't bother. I already tried the healing Ritual I picked up in Arvahn... it did nothing."

"Still, I would like to try."

"Very well."

She stood still as Zhjaeve approached, closing her eyes as the githzerai laid one hand on her shoulder and the other on her arm. She felt magic washing through her body, and immediately the blister that had been forming on her heel went away, the burning sensation gone.

"Is that any better?" Zhjaeve asked.

She rolled her shoulders, but the pain was still there.

"Didn't work."

"I sense nothing wrong with you, Kalach-cha."

"Really? Because it hurts quite a bit. Are you sure it's not something left over from that broken rib I got running like an idiot at Sydney Natale? Or the shard in my chest... maybe it's hurting me somehow."

"No, I sense nothing of injury inside you. Perhaps this is simply a symptom of stress. Your mind's way of telling you to relax, get some rest... and perhaps have another long, hot bath?"

"Maybe in the morning. For now, I'll sleep. I have to be up early tomorrow... I'm going on a patrol of the roads with the Greycloaks."

"As you wish, Kalach-cha. If you like, I will try healing you again in the morning, before you leave."

"I'll see. Sweet dreams, Zhjaeve."

"I do not dream."

"Oh, well... happy resting, or whatever it is that you do."

She patted Mister Pointy as she passed him, entered her room, closed her door and bolted it behind her.

"Khelgar's fighting a pit-fiend," she said, stepping behind the mahogany screen.

"I really don't care," said Bishop from the bed. She hadn't managed to figure out, yet, how he knew when she was planning to go to bed, but he always managed to get there before her. She suspected it had something to do with sending Karnwyr to spy on her, but so far she hadn't been able to catch them doing it.

"Yes you do. You so desperately want to be out there, fighting that pit-fiend. You're simply jealous that Khelgar gets to have fun while you're stuck here with me."

"You know me so well," he said dryly. "I hope you blame yourself for my misery, by the way. I could be out there having 'fun' with Khelgar if you'd just light your damn fire."

"You could be out there right now if you'd just lie to Neeshka," she smiled, stepping out from behind the screen, dressed for bed in her night shirt.

"It occurs to me that winter won't last forever. You could simply wait until the winds change and the weather gets warmer. That would be victory, of a sort... I suppose."

"I'm not giving up quite so easily," she warned as she blew out all but one candle.

She crept to bed, slinking under the covers to preserve what little heat was there, and hating herself for doing it. The people of her village didn't have beds to sleep in anymore. Their spirits would wander lost and alone, prevented by the influence of the King of Shadows from entering the after-life. She knew it; that was why she had heard them speaking to her, the night after they had arrived in the destroyed village. When she had told Bevil that she thought the people of West Harbor were in a better place, she had been lying, putting his mind at ease. It would hurt him too much to know that the souls of his family still wandered the Mere, calling out for help, for salvation that would never come. Unless she could destroy the King of Shadows. With the Guardian gone, the souls of her people would be free.

"Stop fidgeting, wildcat," Bishop growled.

"I'm not fidgeting."

"You are. That's the fourth time you've turned over and you've only been in bed for five minutes."

"I'm just trying to get comfy," she said, settling on her back. She could tolerate it only for a minute or two, then her shoulders began to ache once more, and she was forced onto her side.

"Are you doing this just to try to get me to lie to Neeshka and leave?"

"No. My back hurts. I told you, I'm just trying to get comfortable."

"Whereabouts does it hurt?"

"Between my shoulders."

"Lie on your stomach," he said, sitting up in the bed.

"Why?"

"I told you before, I can take pain away."

"Don't waste your time. Zhjaeve already tried healing me, and I tried the healing Ritual of Purification. They didn't work, and she said there's nothing wrong with me."

"Well that's stupid. If you're in pain, there's something wrong with you, even if it's just something wrong in your head."

"There's nothing wrong with my head."

"You hired a Luskan as a sergeant for your Greycloak army. The state of your head is entirely debatable. Now, sit up and let me check your back. The githzerai isn't even human, so how you can expect her to understand how human bodies work is beyond me. Plus, flooding your body with magic? Hardly the best thing in the world for it."

"Fine," she said, sitting up and turning her back to him. "But remember... fiery death, etcetera."

"I remember. You know, this would be easier if you took your shirt off."

"How gullible do I look?" she said levelly.

"Right. I've seen you in the bath and the gnome's seen you frolicking naked in a river. Heavens forbid I should see your back. But if you want to be all repressed, that's fine. Just tell me if this is the place where it hurts," he said, touching the centre of her back through her shirt.

"No, higher. Between my shoulder blades."

"Tell me when to stop where it hurts." He ran his finger up her spine, which tickled until it reached the sore spot.

"There," she said. "But on both sides of my back."

"Here?" he asked, two fingers on the parts of her back that ached like hell.

"Yes, right there."

"Okay." He ran his hands up her back by another inch, then moved his fingers in towards her spine. "This will be uncomfortable," he warned. Before she could even ask what he meant, she felt pressure on her back. It was sudden and intense, and she gasped as her muscles felt as if they were being pinched. Then his hands were gone, taking the pain with them.

"What did you do?" she asked, circling her shoulders to make sure the pain really _had_ gone away.

"Deadened your nerves," he said, lying back and reclaiming half of the blanket. "The pain's still there, you just can't feel it."

"Deadened them? Permanently?" she asked, alarmed.

"Not permanently, no. You don't want to know what that sort of thing involves. But it will last for about six hours, so I suggest you make the most of it and get some sleep."

"Where did you learn to do that?"

"What, sleeping? I've always been able to do it."

"Ah, the 'I don't want to talk about it so I'll brush aside the question with a flippant remark' thing. Well, that's fine. Thank you, for making the pain go away."

"Don't thank me. I only did it so that you'd stop fidgeting and I'd get a decent night's sleep."

"I don't care whether you wanted to help or not. I'm just grateful that the pain's gone. So you'll just have to accept my gratitude and live with it."

"Hmph. Go to sleep, for gods' sakes," he said, pulling the blanket over his head in a feeble attempt to ignore her.

She settled down into bed once more, lying on her back now that it didn't cause her pain. Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths in and out, filling her lungs with cold air before expelling it again.

"Bishop?"

"What?"

"Why was my back hurting? What caused the pain?"

"No idea. Like the githzerai said, it's probably just stress and tiredness."

"You _heard_ all that?"

"I have good hearing."

"Right," she sighed, turning her head to look at the lone candle.

Everybody wanted to extend the life of a candle for as long as possible. They brought it to life only when they needed it, and took that life away when its light wasn't needed. Then they gave it life again, then they took it in an unending circle, until at last the candle had no more life in it, and it finally extinguished forever.

What if doing that was merely prolonging things, delaying the inevitable? What if some candles couldn't be saved? What if some were destined to burn quickly, brightly, for a brief time, before going out permanently? Did that make them any less useful than the candles that were kept and carefully preserved for years?

All this time spent worrying about the shadow, and she had forgotten one thing. She had been so busy worrying about what happened when the candle died down, that one of the most important facts of life had slipped from her mind. It was something that her father had told her, when she was a young girl in her bed and afraid of the shadows cast by the small candles in her room.

_Kail_, he had said, when she was no older than six, _there cannot be shadows where there is no light_. Then he had blown out the candles, leaving her with the darkness that, although scary in its own right, was not as terrifying as the mis-shapen shadows that had danced and jeered at her across her walls and ceiling.

Lying in her four-poster bed, she raised her hand to her lips, licked her forefinger and thumb, then reached out for the wick of the candle, squeezing it at the base, below the flame, until it sizzled out. And, as if by magic, all of the shadows were banished from the room.

o - o - o - o - o

_Day Three_

Kail was woken by birdsong. They might have been chaffinches, or perhaps sparrows. Whatever they were, they were depriving her of precious sleep. With a quiet groan, she shuffled instinctively closer towards the warmer part of the bed as her mind tried to force her back to unconsciousness.

"You're going to be late for your patrol," whispered a voice in her ear.

"I'm the Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep. They'll wait for me," she replied, refusing to open her eyes and acknowledge it was morning. As long as she kept her eyes closed, she could pretend that it was still night, despite what the birds said, and she could pretend she didn't have to get out of her warm bed.

"You've crossed the line."

"What line?"

"The halfway line on the bed."

"Oh, that line. It doesn't exist for me. Only for you."

"How fair."

"Life isn't fair," she said, pulling the blankets up further and inching closer to him. She suspected if she kept moving closer, she could force him off the bed. Maybe then he wouldn't come back again. He did back up, a short space, then refused to move any further. Oh well, at least she had tried.

"Why do you try so hard to make people dislike you?" she asked.

"I don't try at all. It comes naturally to me."

"You remind me of someone I once knew... a man called Tarmas, who lived in West Harbor."

"The wizard?"

She opened her eyes, surprised at the accuracy of his guess. She hadn't realised that she had moved so close; her eyes were just a few inches from his.

"How did you know that?"

"Your friend talked about everybody in West Harbor, his family most of all. But he mentioned the wizard, once or twice. He didn't tell me that I reminded him of the man, though."

"Tarmas was always grumping around, complaining about West Harbor, about the smells, the people, the children, the Mere... he acted like he didn't care about anybody or anything, like he didn't need or want friends."

"I guess that the difference between us then."

"What?"

"I'm not acting."

"You honestly believe that you don't need anybody? That you don't care about anybody but yourself?"

"That's right. And I _thought_ it was a sentiment you understood."

"I understand it, but it's not who I am. I cared about the people of West Harbor, enough to leave my home to protect them. I care about stopping the King of Shadows."

"And after that?" he asked. It was an innocent enough question, but she didn't like it. She didn't like the intensity of his gaze, the predatory gleam that lurked in his eyes, masking something she could not read.

"I have to go and patrol the roads," she said, rolling out of bed and stepping behind the screen to change. She couldn't give voice to the words that she was thinking. She didn't want to say that she suspected she might not survive the destruction of the King of Shadows. If people realised that she thought she was going to die, they would lose faith in her. Or worse, they would make pointless gestures, risking their own lives to try to save her. It was something that she didn't need or want. They had to believe, right up until the end, that she expected to be victorious. That she expected to walk away afterwards.

"Seems you're not so confident after all."

"My confidence is the last thing you need to worry. Trust me."

Fully clothed, she took the Daystar and the Sword of Quickness from her wardrobe, threading their scabbards onto her belt. Then she sat on the edge of the bed as she pulled on her boots. Tucking her trousers inside she laced them up to her calves, pulling the laces tight.

"How's the pain?" he asked.

"Pain?"

"Your back."

"Oh. It's fine. Whatever you did, it seems to have worked. The pain is gone."

"Just don't go hurting yourself again. I'm not your personal healer."

"You worried about me now?

"That's the most foolish thing I've ever heard you say, wildcat."

"Glad we're straight," she said, unsheathing the Daystar and examining its edge. For a moment it shone with orange fire, lighting the room until she sheathed it again. "Have a good day. I know I will."

She unbolted the door and left, patting the construct's arm as she passed it. The Greycloaks that saw her saluted, and she nodded to them. Anticipating a full day on the road, she stopped by the kitchen and ate a full hot breakfast of sausages, eggs, bacon, toast, mushrooms and tomatoes. With a full stomach she made her way to her office and found Kana hard at work.

"Have the Greycloaks assemble in the courtyard in half an hour please, Kana. I'm ready to begin patrolling."

"Yes, Captain. Sir Nevalle would like to accompany you."

"That would be fine. Advise him of my departure time. Is there any sign of Elanee yet?"

"Not yet. I've got the men and the servants keeping an eye out for her. I'll tell you as soon as I find her."

"Good. I'll see you this afternoon."

"Have a pleasant ride, Captain."

In the stables, Kail brushed and tacked up Wind herself. Though there were grooms who could quite easily manage, she preferred to still do _some_ things herself. The way things were going, pretty soon she wouldn't even be able to bathe herself. Wind whickered gratefully when she stroked his head, and she led him out of the stable to where a Greycloak patrol awaited her. Nevalle was already there and mounted, and he nodded to her as she approached.

"Good morning, Captain," he said. "Are you ready to see what progress has been made in the lands around your Keep?"

"Yes, I think a proper tour of the area has been long overdue," she replied, springing into Wind's saddle. "Lead the way, men. Sir Nevalle and I will follow you."

o - o - o - o - o

"Hey, Khelgar," said Neeshka, sitting on the stool beside him and poking him playfully in the ribs.

"Urgh," he grunted, trying to bury his head in his arms where he leant on the bar.

"Heard you fought a pit-fiend last night. How did it go?"

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

"You don't sound too happy about it."

"Just have a bit of a headache... the ale was flowing freely last night, from what I remember."

"Why don't you eat something?"

"Can't stomach food right now," he grumbled.

"Do you think that pit-fiend was in charge of the attacks the past few nights?"

"Probably. Can't imagine anything bossing a creature like that around. Can you?"

"You mean, other than Ammon Jerro? Not really."

"Hmm... y' don't think Jerro was in on it?"

"Oh, no, definitely not. We've been watching him closely."

"Glad to hear it. I haven't missed much these past couple of days, have I?"

"Absolutely nothing at all," she grinned. "It's been really quiet around here, for some reason."

"Apart from the monster attacks, ye mean?"

"Yes, apart from those. Well, I think you've done a great job. The Greycloaks say you're a hero... I hear Grobnar's composing a song about your bravery."

"Ugh, time to invest in some ear-plugs."

"You should give him a break. He's been taking Shandra's death really hard, you know," she chastised. "Wouldn't hurt to me nice to him for once, would it?"

"Aye, I suppose not," Khelgar smiled.

"Well, enjoy the rest of your day. I have to go speak to Sand, and then do some... stuff."

She left the tavern and marched briskly to the Keep, shivering in the cold air. So far, things were going well. Khelgar had had the time of his life, and Grobnar was currently checking on Sand. Soon they would have to let out Elanee and Casavir, but that could probably wait until after lunch.

Turning a corner, she almost crashed into Bishop; her fast reflexes saved her, and she stepped aside just in time. Unfortunately tripping over Karnwyr in the process.

"Serves you right for stomping around like that," he said, as if he never stomped anywhere in his life.

"Uh-huh," she replied, rubbing a bruised elbow. "What's happening?"

"I'm going for breakfast."

"I meant what's happening with Kail?"

"She's gone patrolling with Greycloaks, or something."

"That's not what I meant!"

"Maybe you should stop speaking rubbish, then," he growled, brushing past her. "Have you seen Qara today?"

"No... why? What do you want with Qara."

"I want to reminisce about old times with her. Let me know if you see her."

She shook her head and continued on to the library, waiting outside the door for Grobnar to appear. Whatever Bishop wanted Qara for, it couldn't be good. Not for the sorceress anyway. But it wasn't her problem. All she had to worry about now was avoiding Elanee after the druid was released.

When Grobnar stepped out of the library, she walked beside him in silence for a few paces.

"How's Sand?" she asked.

"He's finished the tome already and seems to be in a much better mood than he was four days ago."

"Good. I spoke to Khelgar and suggested that the pit-fiend was behind the whole monster invasion. We won't need to summon anything else tonight."

"Oh, thank the gods! I don't think there's a single summoning scroll left inside the whole Keep! Say, when are we going to let Casavir and Elanee out?"

"In a few hours. I'll do it, you can hide in Kail's office. Or better yet, the kitchen. She'll never think of looking for us there."

"Do you really think she'll be that angry?"

"I dunno. But would _you_ want Elanee angry at you?"

"I see your point."

"Come on. We've got some time left to kill... let's really go to town on Kail's room. Candles, wine, grapes, the lot."

"But err... Kail has been quite against that sort of thing in the past. She seems to abhor luxury of any sort."

"I know. But it will be _fun_!"

o - o - o - o - o

Lying on her side upon one blanket, with another one draped around her shoulders and over her body, Elanee traced patterns on Casavir's chest with the tips of her fingers, feeling the warm of her skin beneath hers. She had entirely lost all sense of time, but she no longer cared. In fact, she found herself wishing that the door to the outside world would never open, and her thoughts would have given Elder Naevan a heart-attack, had he been able to hear them.

"May I ask what you're thinking?" said Casavir.

"Just general thoughts along the lines of how nice it's been to lie here in your arms, not having to worry about things for once."

"Yes, being cut-off from everything... it does make for an interesting distraction. But I hope we're not kept in here for _too_ long. Every moment that we lie idle is a moment when the King of Shadows is harming the people of Neverwinter. I wonder how much damage he has done, whilst we have been trapped in here."

"Part of me wishes that door would never open," she admitted. "The rest of me knows that it is an idle fancy. We have a task to see to, and we cannot rest until we have completed it."

"If you like... when I next see Kail, I will request that she move me into a bigger room. With a bed big enough for two."

"People will talk," she warned, but secretly thrilled that he had even suggested it.

"I have learnt that people will talk no matter what you do. Besides, there are worse things they could talk about."

"Thank you. I might take you up on your offer... but not just yet. I need to find a way to rest properly, to reach reverie, and you, I fear, will be a constant distraction. Besides, maybe I'll ask for a bigger room myself. And a bigger bed to go with it."

He smiled, and leant down to kiss her neck, letting his lips linger over her collarbone as he transferred his kisses to her shoulders and throat.

When the outside bolt of the door slid open, and the door itself swung open to allow a crack of light to enter, they both looked up, waiting for somebody to appear. For several moments they waited in silence, then she ran her hand across his shoulders to get his attention.

"Why have you stopped?" she asked.

"You were so desperate to leave at first, I thought you would want to get out as soon as the door was opened."

"Maybe in an hour or two," she smiled, reaching up to pull him down on top of her.

o - o - o - o - o

Sitting in his usual seat inside the tavern, Bishop was bitterly aware that the hour was growing late. The clock on the mantlepiece read almost ten, and most of the Greycloaks had already left the continuing celebration of Khelgar bloody Ironfist. For the first three nights he had made sure he was in Kail's room before her. He had been somewhat worried that if he arrived after she was already in bed, she would bolt the door and refuse him entry. Then he would have to come back here and endure Neeshka reading him more of the horrible book. The thought of Casavir doing the things that the book described to Kail -- or, in fact, anybody -- was enough to make him more than a little queasy.

Now, he knew that wouldn't happen. Kail wouldn't lock him out, because in her eyes, that was cheating. She would play by the tiefling's rules, and she was determined to get the best of Neeshka. Which was, in his opinion, entirely unlikely. The thief had planned this far too well, and he knew that if he tried to lie to her, she would quickly see through him. She had an annoying habit of knowing what was in his head, or so it seemed. Just like that bloody githzerai and her too-knowing looks.

He sensed confusion from Karnwyr. Why weren't they in Kail's room yet? Why was he sitting down here being angsty when he could be curled up beside a warm body? Though he had spent almost all of his life mentally bonded to a human, Karnwyr still saw things the wolf way; if you wanted a mate, you got yourself a mate. There was no need for indecision, no room for doubt. _Alpha_ obviously liked them both, otherwise she would defend her territory against them, so what was the problem?

No matter how hard he tried, Bishop couldn't convey to his companion that it wasn't that easy, with humans. The wolf idea of a relationship involved running through the forest with your mate, hunting, killing, and feasting. He'd already tried that with Kail, in the Duskwood, and it hadn't worked. Women -- the ones who weren't interested in you only because you were paying them for the night -- wanted more than that. They wanted conversation and sympathy and flowers and the like. They weren't usually satisfied by spending a whole night hunting and then a day sleeping in a leaf-filled den.

On top of that, there was his additional... problem. No woman wanted to spend her life on the run, being constantly hunted. When Karnwyr conveyed to him that _Alpha_ had spent many weeks of her life being hunted by the planar-sword-hunting-two-legs, and was even now being hunted by the minions of the shadow-walker, he ignored the wolf. It wasn't the same thing at all. It was entirely different. Besides, women just didn't like being around him. They moaned at his behaviour and tried to change him. Malin had tried to change him, hadn't she? She'd thought that she could wrap him around her finger and convince him to be different. She had been very, _very_ wrong, and now she hated him because she thought she'd been special, and he'd shown her just how special she wasn't.

_But Alpha is nothing like Malin. She doesn't want to change us_, Karnwyr thought back, though not in as many words. It was more of an intuitive understanding of expression and intent that they shared, rather than a means of word-for-word communication.

The worst part was the constant indecision. Karnwyr was convinced that everything would be fine, that as _Alpha_, Kail would accept them as her mate -- and it was always 'them' and 'us' and 'we' to Karnwyr, never 'you' or 'I' -- and then there would be no more problems. Part of him believed that the wolf was right. But the greater part of him worried that the wolf was wrong, that Kail would be just like the others; cold and judgmental. If she learnt about his past, she would want nothing more to do with him. That was how it always went. Always.

Eventually he decided it was time to leave the tavern, and he left his empty glass on the table by his chair. Karnwyr followed him out, but nobody saw him leave. They were all to busy drinking, talking and enjoying themselves. They had no time for him, which was how he preferred it. Still, he _was_ relatively safe, here. The Circle were most likely not insane enough to send anybody here.

He dragged his feet as he made his way into the Keep. Sleeping beside Kail every night was a new form of torture for him, and it tested his self-control like it had never been tested before. Lying no more than an arm's reach from her, the urge to reach out and touch her was at times more than he could bear. She looked so small and innocent when she was sleeping... he just wanted to hold her as she slept, to keep her there next to him, to have her completely to himself because the rest of the world didn't deserve her, wanted her to sacrifice herself for it.

Sometimes he hated her for it. She had made him feel this way against his will. He had once promised himself that nobody would ever make him do something against his will ever again, yet she made him _want_ to care for her despite the fact that she didn't need it. They said that moths were attracted to candles, and if he was a moth, that made her a bloody raging bonfire.

So far he had been able to resist throwing himself at the fire, but he didn't know how many more nights of sleeping beside her he could take. That morning, when she had edged closer and closer to him, he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, feel her body against his. They also said that moths, before they were burnt alive, felt a moment of exquisite pleasure. Of course, that was just poetic nonsense, but he knew that she was entirely capable of burning him alive. He had seen what she had done to a blade-golem, fusing it to the floor with dragon-fire. He just wasn't sure if a few moments of holding her was worth all that pain.

When he reached her room he opened her door, and found himself looking at something that he never, ever would have expected. On her bed was a tray of food, along with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Candles had been lit around the bed, forming a pool of light around it. But it wasn't that which surprised him; Kail was sitting in front of the fire. The fire that was lit, and burning merrily in the fireplace.

"You gave in?" he asked, elated and disappointed at the same time. On the bright side, he wouldn't have to lie in the bed beside her again. On the down side, he wouldn't have to lie in the bed beside her again. "I didn't think that you would."

"I came to realise that you are right," she said, watching him carefully from her seat by the flames. The light cast over her face made her eyes vivid blue, and Karnwyr picked up a sense of sadness or regret from her. "It took you and Neeshka to show me how stubborn and foolish I was being. Thank you for teaching me a valuable lesson."

"Well, now that my services are no longer required, I'll be getting back to the tavern," he said.

"Very well. Will you please pass on a message to Neeshka?" She waited for him to nod. "Tell her thank you, but I don't like wine."

"Anything else?"

"No, that's it."

He closed the door and left her alone. No doubt she'd put the fire out when she thought it was safe, but it wasn't his problem anymore. He was a little disappointed that she'd given in so easily -- he'd thought that she'd fight for longer than she had done -- but at least he could get back to sleeping in his own bed again. And he wouldn't have to worry about _that_ book.

With Karnwyr following, he made his way back to the tavern.

o - o - o - o - o

When Kail watched Bishop leave her room, she felt nothing. She couldn't let herself feel things. Feeling led to all sorts of complications, complications that she couldn't afford until her task was complete. Though at first she had been wary and skeptical, she had found that she didn't mind Bishop sharing her bed. When she realised that crawling into bed beside him was something she looked forward to -- though obviously, just for the warmth he provided, and nothing more than that -- she knew that she had to do something to get rid of him quickly, before she began to get used to having him there. If she got used to him, she would eventually start missing him, and she couldn't afford to miss people. She couldn't afford to be weak.

But she had been torn. It went against everything she believed to give in, to admit defeat. It was, partially, why she couldn't let go of Zhjaeve's metaphorical rocks. It was why she kept holding on, fighting, until there was nothing else left inside her. In the end, the answer had come to her, and it had been so simple. As she was riding beside Nevalle, she had recalled a conversation she had with Shaundakul, six months ago. In the Mere, he had said, everything was black and white. Out here, black and white were just two different shades of grey; extremes of it, yes, but still no less grey for it.

The terms of the game were that she could either sleep in Bishop's room, which was warm, or sleep in the bed with Bishop, which was slightly less warm. When she wanted to surrender, she could light her own fire. At first, she had thought that either she must win, or Neeshka must. Then she had found a way to let them _both_ win.

"You can come out now," she said aloud. "And make the flames go away."

Grobnar stepped out from behind the mahogany screen, and with a wave of his hand the illusion was dismissed. The flames, which had never given off any heat because they had never been _real_, disappeared, taking their light with them. It had all been an illusion, but nobody would ever know it.

"I... um... I don't really understand what just happened," said Grobnar.

"Don't worry about it. Just remember your promise to never tell anybody about this."

"Of course not, I wouldn't dream of it."

"Good. Thank you. You can go now."

He left, and she changed into her night shirt. Then she blew out all of the candles in the room, and slid into her cold bed. This was the way it had to be. She either had to be the candle, lit and extinguished at the whims of others, or she could be the one to extinguish the candles, and be left alone in the darkness.

o - o - o - o - o

There was a minstrel playing in the tavern, and some of the Greycloaks sang along to his tune. The ale was flowing and the mood was good. Neeshka smiled as Khelgar arm-wrestled with one of the Greycloaks, and won easily. Her plan had gone wonderfully, so far. Khelgar was in a good mood once more, Sand had stopped being grumpy and sarcastic, Elanee had finally admitted her feelings for Casavir to Casavir himself, and now they were happy gazing into each others eyes, or whatever.

She looked up when the door opened, and saw Bishop enter the tavern, taking his seat by the fire. _This_ wasn't part of her plan. She stood and made her way over to him, ready to take out _the book_, if necessary.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, planting her fists on her hips.

"Drinking ale?"

"You aren't supposed to be here!"

"Don't worry, vixen. You won."

"What do you mean?" she asked cautiously.

"The little wildcat has the fire going in her room. If I hadn't seen it for myself, I never would have believed it."

She slapped the back of his head with the flat of her hand, and he glared at her.

"What was that for?" he asked with a scowl.

"For being the stupidest man ever!" she hissed, and returned to the merry-making.

"What do you mean?" he called after her. "You won!"

She didn't bother to correct him as she accepted a glass of something cool and alcoholic from Sal. Clearly there was just no helping some people.


	83. Broken Heart

_83. Broken Heart_

There was frantic banging on Kail's bedroom door. It tore her from her sleep, from a dream about her childhood. She had been playing with Bevil and Amie again, under the watchful eye of Retta Starling. Together they had roamed the dirt-track streets of West Harbor, pretending that they were wizards or adventurers or... there was more banging, and she groaned. It would be just typical of Neeshka to show up late in the night to check on the status of her fire. When the banging continued, she wrapped the blanket from the bed around herself, tiptoed to the door across the cold stone floor, and unbolted it, squinting out at the figure outlined before her in the bright light of the corridor.

"Kana?" she asked, suddenly aware that she was half asleep, half dressed, wrapped in a blanket and probably suffering from bed-hair. No officer should have to see her captain like that. Kana, however, seemed not to notice any of it.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Captain, but I've had one of the Greycloak parties out on a night patrol."

"That's good. Very... foresighted of you," she yawned. "What time is it, anyway?"

"So late that it's now early. Forgive me for being hasty, Captain, but the patrol picked up the trail of a Shadow Reaver and followed it back to its camp. It isn't too far from the Keep."

"How long ago was this?" she asked, suddenly awake.

"An hour or two. The patrol made their way straight back here to report."

"What sort of troops does it have with it?"

"They don't know. It was dark, and I think they were a little reluctant to hang around a Reaver camp for too long. At the very least you should expect undead creatures in its service."

"Thank you. Will you wake my friends? Tell them I'm leaving in an hour."

"All of them?" asked Kana, somewhat worriedly, it seemed.

"All of them. I'll be waiting in the war room. Veedle _did_ finish the war room whilst I was away, like I asked, didn't he?"

"He did, Captain."

"Thank Shaundakul for small blessings. Please hurry, Kana. I can't let this Reaver get away. I'll be leaving in an hour whether anybody's ready to come with me or not."

o - o - o - o - o

In the end, nobody had stayed behind. Ammon and Zhjaeve had been the first ones down to the war room, practically arriving together. Everybody else had shown up after them, with Qara cutting pretty close to the hour. Now, as Kail headed the procession away from the Keep, she tilted her head to one side, listening to what they were saying.

"It's about time those Reavers showed themselves," said Khelgar, remarkably sober for once. "I was beginning to think they'd all run off back to their mothers!"

"Reavers don't have mothers, moss-breath," said Neeshka.

"Bah, they were human once."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Casavir asked Elanee quietly. Apparently the answer needed no words, because Casavir was almost contrite the next moment as he apologised for questioning her judgment.

"This should be an excellent opportunity to test Mister Pointy out against creatures of the night," said Grobnar. He was holding the golem's non-bladed hand with his own. It was an amusing sight. The construct was big enough and strong enough to crush Grobnar to death merely by squeezing him with its fist, yet he was over-protective of it, all but mothering it. She wouldn't have been surprised if he took out a handkerchief and did the old spit-and-polish on its face.

"We are not here for your amusement, gnome," said Ammon. "We are here to weaken the King of Shadows by destroying one of its minions... and to test if the scroll of True Names truly does work."

"Know that the scroll will work," said Zhjaeve, with both patience and confidence. Kail wished she could be as confident as the githzerai always managed to be. She often spent time second-guessing herself; though oddly, not when it came to decisions about herself. She worried that she was sending Greycloaks off to die, that she wasn't training them hard enough, that she might be training them _too_ hard, that they weren't well-equipped enough to get the job done, that her standards for recruitment were too high or too low, that she hadn't set Veedle on the right tasks as far as fortifying the Keep was concerned... but when it came to decisions about _her_, she had no such doubts. Her path remained clear; she had to stay strong, she had to do the job in front of her, and she had to do it without complaint. Just like any Harborman would.

"You better hope you have time to even use those scrolls," said Bishop. "We're probably walking into an ambush." Kail turned around, walking backwards for a moment.

"I suspect we _are_ heading towards an ambush. I have a hard time believing that _Greycloaks_ managed to track and follow a powerful undead wizard completely undetected. That's why I asked everybody to come along."

"You intend to ambush the ambush?" Casavir asked.

"Yes," she smiled. "And here's how I want to do it."

Kail stepped forward into the clearing where the Greycloaks had indicated the Reaver's camp was made. Mister Pointy followed her closely, stomping loudly through the dead leaves and debris that lay about the floor. Behind the Reaver was Grobnar, and Elanee brought up the rear.

At first, Kail thought she had been wrong, that this wasn't an ambush. The clearing was empty. Had the Reaver moved on? Had this been a genuine display of skill by the Greycloaks? Just as she was about to call out that it was time to return to the Keep, shadows coalesced in the clearing. A Reaver emerged, flanked by two shadows, and two large blade golems stepped to its side.

"Do you remember me, shard-bearer?" the Reaver asked, its skulls fixed into an unnatural, permanent grin. "I am the one who tasted the life-blood of those you swore to protect at Castle Never. You could not defeat me there, and you shall not defeat me here."

Kail said nothing. She could tell when she was being goaded. The Reaver was trying to anger her, to make her attack in blind rage, but she did not feel any anger at all; she felt no responsibility for the people who had died in Castle Never. They were Lord Nasher's concern, not hers.

She drew her swords into her hand, and the Daystar sprung to life. That was the signal; from the trees on one side of the clearing stepped Khelgar, Sand and Bishop, flanking Ammon protectively. From the other side of the clearing stepped Casavir, Neeshka and Qara, likewise protecting Zhjaeve.

"Mister Pointy... kill the Shadow Reaver," she ordered, and the construct rushed forward towards its goal. The two golems beside the Reaver moved to intercept it, whilst the shadows closed in on the two groups.

As she hadn't known what types of enemies she would be facing, she had only been able to make the barest of plans. The idea was for both Ammon and Zhjaeve to begin reading through the list of Reaver names -- they wouldn't know which Reaver belonged to which name until they read it aloud -- whilst their 'guards' would keep any enemies at bay. Kail had wanted a battle-plan that was clean and organised, for once; something other than her usual 'everyone rush at the target' method of fighting. And so far, her plan was working.

Casavir was channelling positive energy through his body, keeping the shadows from coming too close to Zhjaeve. Meanwhile, Sand was using fireballs to combat the shadows that harassed his group as Ammon continued reading names from the list. Content that her friends were handling themselves and sticking to the plan, she closed on the constructs which were attacking Mister Pointy, followed closely by Elanee and Grobnar.

Though Elanee could not, by her own admission, cast spells or shift form, she could still wield a blade. Her scimitar had been enchanted, and would hopefully be enough to harm the golems. Meanwhile, Grobnar began playing a song on his flute; Kail's skin, and that of her friends, grew a protective barrier around it, then the gnome changed to a different song, one that would lift their spirits and give them strength to hit harder and fight for longer.

Though Kail knew that she could use dragon-fire to melt the golems, she knew that she couldn't control the fire; she might end up burning her friends, and possibly the whole forest. So she fought with her swords, and prayed that Ammon and Zhjaeve would find the right name before she needed to resort to greater force.

When the Shadows were destroyed, Khelgar and Casavir stepped to her side to help her against the golems. Kail attacked one, with Khelgar helping her, and Casavir and Elanee took another. Their weapons hit the golems again and again, the sound of metal ringing on metal rolling through the still-dark morning like constantly tolling bells.

There was a flash of light in the clearing, and the next time Mister Pointy landed a blow on the Reaver, it roared in pain. _It worked!_ Kail thought, relief suffusing her body. _The True Names can weaken the Reavers!_

"Sand, Qara! Concentrate your attacks on the Reaver!" she called, ducking a swipe from a golem's bladed arm.

Now that the True Name of the Reaver had been found, Ammon and Zhjaeve were free to join in the attack. It as the first time Kail had truly seen Ammon in action -- other than the time she had fought against him in his Haven -- and she found herself quickly impressed. His magic was like nothing she had ever seen before; she couldn't identify any of the spells he was using.

In its weakened state, the Reaver quickly succumbed to the sheer force of magic hurled at it from two mages, a warlock and a cleric. Its body was turn apart, sending out a shockwave the knocked everybody around it to their feet, even the constructs.

Zhjaeve, making the most of the momentary confusion, cast a sanctuary spell around one of the golems; a barrier of magic energy sprang up around it, preventing it from affecting anything outside the barrier. Khelgar and Casavir closed on the remaining enemy golem. It was still trying to recover from the shockwave, and as it slowly pushed itself to its feet, the two warriors brought their weapons down on it, knocking it back to the floor. After several more hits the fire in its eyes went out, and it lay inert in a heap on the ground.

When they were ready, Kail gave Zhjaeve the order to release the held golem, and it received the same treatment as the first. Then there was nothing else to do except survey the carnage that had taken place in the clearing.

"That was almost too easy," said Kail, breathing heavily.

"You can expect the other Reavers to learn from this one's mistake," said Ammon. "They will not venture out of the Mere without more of their servants to protect them. We have tipped our hand, but we have proved that the True Names work, and defeated one of the King of Shadows' most powerful minions in the process."

"And that is not all," said Zhjaeve, standing up from her examination of the Reaver's corpse. "Know that the Reaver carried a shard of the Sword of Gith." She held out her hand, and in it was a piece of jagged silver. Kail took it, and immediately knew that it was a piece of the Sword.

"I wonder where the Reaver found it," she mused as she took off her pack to place the shard with the others she had picked up along the way. Ammon had also given her the shard that he had taken from Melia.

"Know that I believe we have enough shards now to reforge the blade."

"And how is it that you know that?" asked Ammon suspiciously.

"I simply know it. However, the knowing of how to reforge the sword is not mine. In order to reforge it, we must know how it was broken in the first place."

"Ammon," said Kail. "Have you any idea how it happened, or how we can reforge it?"

"No. I have been imprisoned within the Lower Planes for the past twenty years. I have had little time to ponder how the sword was broken. There is, however, one who may have the answers. He has had a long time indeed to think on such matters."

"And we are only just hearing about this individual now?" asked Zhjaeve.

"There was no point in mentioning him earlier. We did not have enough pieces of the sword to reforge it. Now that we allegedly _do_..."

"Who is it?" Kail asked before they could begin arguing again.

"The Illefarn found a great wyrm who would fight for them against the Guardian, after it became corrupt. A crystal dragon, who became their champion in the war. Unfortunately, he was defeated."

"How does this help us?"

"Though his body was destroyed, the dragon's spirit still remains, tied to this Plane by the magic of the Illefarn. His name is Nolaloth, and I have spoken with him myself. I sought answers regarding the King of Shadows, and Nolaloth provided them. But we did not leave part on the best of terms. I believe Nolaloth may know how we can reforge the Sword, and I can tell you where you can find him, but I cannot go with you. My presence would only make him more resistant to helping you."

"How long will it take to reach this place?" she asked, giving Jerro her map.

"A few days to get there, and the same to return."

"Then we should set off immediately."

"You should also know that there are other dragons present at Nolaloth's remains. They go there to pay homage to him, like adherents praying to a god. They also guard him, and may become hostile if provoked."

"Then maybe I should go alone."

"No, Kalach-cha. You cannot," said Zhjaeve. "It is too dangerous."

"But I had a draconic ancestor, somewhere down the line. Perhaps they will sense that within me, and consider me less of a threat."

"Most dragons won't even claim kinship with each other," said Ammon. "Least of all with 'mortals' who have dragon-blood. They are intelligent but often petty, greedy creatures who cannot be trusted."

"Alright. Then anybody who wants to risk it can come with me. Anybody who doesn't can return with you to Crossroad Keep. I need you to let Nevalle know what's happened here, and advise him that I'll hopefully be back within a couple of weeks. Tell Kana to handle things while I'm away. And Master Veedle needs to continue work on the fortifications. And the Greycloaks should..."

"I will tell Kana to sort it all out," Ammon interrupted. "But I recommend you make haste. Now that the King of Shadows has tasted our strength, he will be fast to retaliate."

"Right. I'll see you soon, then. Anybody who doesn't mind a week or two hiking, come with me. Everybody else, go with Ammon."

o - o - o - o - o

"We aren't well equipped for this," said Bishop later that afternoon. Kail had stopped everybody for a break in the forests to the north of Crossroad Keep. So far they had made good time, and covered more ground than she would have hoped for. Now she was staring at the map, trying to count how many times they would need to make camp for the night before they reached their destination.

"Are you listening to me, wildcat?" he asked, leaning over the map to block her view of it. "We left with only a few canteens of water and basic rations, no camping gear and no change of clothing."

"I know. We'll have to hunt as we travel. I'll tell everyone to keep an eye out for game. We'll need to find somewhere to sleep each night... a cave or somewhere protected and sheltered. Look," she said, pointing at the map. "We're here, in the forest north of the Keep, and we need to get here, to the entrance of these mountains. I think we can do it in three days, if we set a fast pace."

"And you'll have everybody dead on their feet by the time you get there. If we have to hunt as we travel, it will slow us down. Three days isn't enough, and it would be stupid to try."

"I guess I'm stupid then," she said, rolling up her map and turning to the rest of the group. "Come on people, break's over, we need to get moving."

"I'm beginning to regret not going back to the Keep," Qara grumbled, pushing herself to her feet.

They travelled throughout the entire afternoon, only stopping when they chanced upon prey. It was mainly wood pigeons and grouse that were shot down in the forest, though Grobnar did manage to catch himself a hare -- after Mister Pointy had already stepped on it. They carried what food they were able to find as they walked. As the afternoon began to pass to evening, Kail gestured for Bishop.

"It's going to be dark soon," she said. "Can you find us somewhere safe to sleep for the night?"

He nodded, and walked off into the forest with Karnwyr by his side. She knew that he would have no trouble finding their party again; Karnwyr's senses were far finer than any human's, and he would sniff them out easily.

The fast pace began to take its toll on her friends. Qara was the first to begin to flag, and Grobnar was not long after. Surprisingly, Elanee was also struggling to keep up, occasionally leaning on Casavir for support. Kail had heard from reliable sources that the pair of them were together now, and she was happy for her friends. Elanee deserved something to go right in her life, after the loss of her Circle. She deserved a little happiness.

Bishop returned after darkness had already set in, and took them to a small cave he had found. Working together, they collected firewood, cooked and ate what they had caught during the day, then settled down to sleep, taking it in turns to keep watch. To Kail, it felt almost like old times.

One thing was in their favour as they travelled north. The weather stayed cold but clear, with no snow or rain to impede their progress. When they arrived at the base of a path three days later, a path that Ammon had described as leading to Nolaloth's valley, Kail called a halt and everybody, including her, sank wearily to the floor.

"I told you it was a stupid idea," said Bishop, taking a sip of water from his flask.

"I told you it could be done," she replied, desperately trying to ignore her aching feet, legs, back and shoulders. As she had the previous days, she used her Ritual ability to wash away some of their aches and their tiredness, and wished she was capable of using the power more than once a day. But, like a wizard's spell, it needed to be replenished through sleep. She wouldn't be able to do it again until tomorrow.

They hadn't been able to find any game on the previous day of travel, so they had subsisted on rations, and were now feeling the pangs of hunger. It didn't bother Kail too much; she had gone hungry before, when hunting with Valear's people, or during the times when her father had taken her out blindfolded into the Mere and left her to find her way home alone. She could live with a little hunger, but it seemed not everybody could.

"I'm starving," moaned Qara, and as if to prove the point her stomach growled.

"Bit of hunger never killed anyone, lass," said Khelgar. "A lot of it, sure, but not a bit of it."

"Don't worry," said Kail, standing and stretching her arms behind her head, trying to loosen the tension in her muscles. "The human body can survive for weeks without food. As long as you keep drinking, you'll be fine."

"Oh yeah?" said Qara. "If I'm hungry, I can't sleep, which means I can't replenish my spells, which means I'll be as useless as Elanee."

"She is not useless," said Casavir, jumping to the druid's defence.

"No, Casavir," said Elanee, laying a hand on his arm. "She is right. I cannot cast spells, I cannot shift my form, I can't hear the land speaking to me anymore... all I can do is wield a blade. But that is what Khelgar does, and he is not useless. And though I too am hungry, and weary, and tired beyond all belief, I am not the one complaining about it."

"Let's go," said Kail. The last thing she needed was everybody bickering now.

"This path... it winds like the tail of a great beast, just as Ammon said," Zhjaeve mused.

"Or a great dragon. I guess we'll find out which it is soon enough."

They climbed the winding path for half an hour, and Kail desperately wished for rest. She had never pushed her body so hard and for so long in her life, and she was beginning to pay the price. Even though she had washed away some of her pain and tiredness, she still felt exhausted, her muscles aching and cramping occasionally. She suspected most of the others were just as bad as her, if not worse.

As she began to climb, she began to sweat and removed her brown leather coat. When the sweating didn't stop, she called Zhjaeve over.

"Zhjaeve, I think I'm getting ill. I feel so hot."

"It is not you, Kalach-cha. The weather is warming rapidly as we ascend."

Looking around, she saw Zhjaeve was right. Everybody else was doffing their coats and cloaks and loosening their collars. By the time they reached the summit, they were into high-summer temperatures, and Kail found herself looking out over a green and verdant valley.

"Well... Ammon never mentioned _this_," she said, as everybody else gathered around her to stare.

"Look down there!" said Qara, pointing into the valley. "Apple trees. And I can see apples on them."

"Wait, Qara," she said as the sorceress took a step down the path.

"What? Now you don't want us to eat anything?"

"I simply think that the dragons here may resent us taking food from their valley."

"I don't see any dragons."

"Up there." She pointed to the top of the mountain wall where she had seen movement. A moment later a dragon appeared, watching them with cold reptilian eyes. She had thought that she might be able to sense the dragons, having dragon blood in her veins herself, but if it hadn't moved, she would never have known it was there.

"Know that we should not make any threatening gestures," said Zhjaeve. "For now, the dragons are watching us. Let us give them no reason to change that."

Qara grumbled about being hungry, but fell into line as Kail began to descend the path into the valley. This place was, she realised, crater-like in its construction, as if it was the caldera of a volcano or an impact-crater. In the centre of the crater was a small pool of water, and above it hovered a large, crystalline rock that spun slowly on some invisible axis.

"This rock is the shape of a dragon heart," said Zhjaeve as they approached it.

"I don't even want to _know_ how you know what a dragon heart looks like," she replied, giving the heart a wide berth.

"Know that we must not harm this heart, or it will likely call down all of the guardians of this place upon us."

"Don't worry, I have no intention of even touching it. Everybody, spread out. Look for a crystal dragon named Nolaloth. Gather some food if you like, but don't do anything that might be construed as threatening."

They moved away from her, Casavir and Elanee together, Grobnar with the construct, Bishop with Karnwyr, Neeshka with Khelgar, and everybody else alone apart from Sand, who remained by her side.

"Had it occurred to you that you could further your own studies here?" he asked, when everybody -- at least, everybody on two legs -- was out of earshot.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we are surrounded by dragons, looking for a powerful crystal dragon... perhaps it, or they, can aid in your research into your draconic heritage."

"Perhaps. For now, the Sword of Gith is my main priority. Then making alliances and finding a way into the Claimed Lands. Exploring my heritage just doesn't seem as urgent, at the moment."

"You should not dismiss your studies entirely, though. What you could learn may be beneficial to the war, and to your survival."

"I'll keep it in mind. Thanks, Sand. And thanks for all your help."

"I think I've found something!" Grobnar called. She looked around the clearing for him, then saw him at a higher point, near a second, narrower path that led to somewhere out of sight. Together with Sand she hurried towards the gnome, and everybody else joined them on the way.

"This path seems to lead into a second crater with a lake inside it," said Grobnar. "And there's some interesting crystal formations beside it. They seemed to glow briefly when I approached them."

"Alright. Thanks. I'll go first... everybody else, stay behind me, just in case something goes wrong.

"You mean in case old scar-face pissed the dragon off so much that it wants to eat everyone who talks to it now?" Bishop asked flippantly.

"Something like that."

She approached the crystals cautiously, conscious that they could either be nothing at all, or part of a trap. When she neared the end of the path, which actually jutted out over the lake inside the crater, a plume of water swirled up into the air above her head. When it formed into the huge form of a dragon's head, she instinctively took a step back. She had found Nolaloth, and he was far, far bigger than she had ever imagined he would be.

"Who are you, mortal, to trespass her, inside the bones of my dead body?" the disembodied head asked in a deep, growling voice that echoed around the canyon.

"My name is Kail Farlong, and I seek Nolaloth," she replied. "Are you he?"

"What brings you here? Have you come to mock me, like the others? Have you come to request a boon of me, to seek knowledge that I possess?"

"I only wish to..."

"Only? There is no 'only', here. You are no different than the others. You come here to taunt me with promises of life, but I remain as caged as always. I will show you what it means to be caged. We will wait here together until the end of time. I have already existed here for millennia. I wonder... how long will you last?"

The ephemeral dragon head disappeared, and at the same time a barrier sprang up across the entrance to the crater. When Grobnar touched it, it proved to be solid, though translucent. They were trapped. It seemed Ammon really _had_ upset Nolaloth. Perhaps that was the real reason he had refused to come along. Perhaps he feared what the dragon might do to him.

"Nolaloth," she called, trying to appeal to the dragon. "We came here because we need your help." There was silence. "I need to learn how to reforge the Sword of Gith, and was told you might know how to do it."

"I do not think he is listening," said Elanee.

"Please, Nolaloth. I need the sword to strike at an old enemy of yours. The shadow is once again lying across the land."

That seemed to catch the dragon's attention. Its head reformed from water from the lake, closing the distance between them as it examined her through liquid eyes.

"What shadow?" it asked suspiciously.

"The King of Shadows," said Zhjaeve. "Know that it has left the Plane of Shadows, where it was imprisoned, and has entered this place."

"This... changes things," said the dragon slowly. "I had thought my old enemy trapped forever within the Plane of Shadows, sealed there by the Illefarn, and again by the githyanki."

"What do you know of the githyanki?" Kail asked, curious about what her former hunters had been upto.

"The githyanki came to me at a time of great need. The King of Shadows was attempting to form a portal between the Shadow Plane and the Astral Plane. It sent through an avatar of itself, which the githyanki came to call 'Nightwalker', and it attacked their pitiful cities. Knowing that I had fought their enemy once before, they came to this place, asking for my aid, promising to free me in return."

"What did you tell them?"

"I told them to turn their blades not on the Nightwalker, but on the portal itself, if they could find it. I assume that they did. Destroying the portal would have sealed the King of Shadows back in his home plane. After that, I never heard from them again. I rather hoped that the King of Shadows and the githyanki would wipe each other out."

"You said you were 'caged' here... what do you mean by that?"

"I mean what I say, mortal. I am trapped here by the magic of the Illefarn."

"But... why? What would they gain by keeping you here?"

"I was their mercenary. I came to their aid for the promise of the wealth of their empire. Whatever your histories or seers tell you, know this for the truth; it was greed that brought me into their war, for the hearts of all beings are greedy and covetous."

"I don't believe that. Greed does not govern all things, nor all people."

"Perhaps, but regardless, greed was in my heart, though it was not deceitful. I went into battle against the King of Shadows, as the Illefarn requested. But soon after the battle began, I knew my defeat was inevitable, that a means of escape was required. I fought the King of Shadows until I fell from the sky, and this is where I landed. The rock of this place is my body, and over the centuries it has slowly turned to soil and dirt. This place is maintained by my will alone."

"But how was your spirit caged? Why didn't you die, and go to... wherever it is that dead dragons go?"

"The _Illefarn_," Nolaloth growled. "They came here and promised to find a way to restore me to life, to restore my soul to my body and make me live again. I believed them, and allowed them to cast their spell to preserve me across the ages. Then they left... and that was the last I saw of them. Now _you_ come here. Are you part of Illefarn? Did they send you here to once again ask my assistance, but leave with empty promises?"

"No. The Illefarn Empire is dead, and it has been for a long time. Their cities lay in ruins, and the name of Illefarn has been lost to all but scholars and historians."

"That is... unfortunate. With them goes my salvation, my one chance at living. A man came here, not long ago, and called himself Ammon Jerro. He told me that he was sent by the Illefarn Empire, told me that they were even now working on a way to restore me to life. I told him what he wanted to know... and then I never saw _him_ again, either."

"I'm sorry that you were lied to and let down by so many people," she said, angry at Ammon for deceiving Nolaloth, but not wanting it to show.

"You, mortal, have been honest with me. So I will answer your questions, and help you as I can. This way, I may once again strike at the King of Shadows. Because although I despise the Illefarn for leaving me here to rot, and I hate the githyanki and Ammon Jerro for their hollow promises, I reserve my true loathing for the being that was once the light of Illefarn."

"Can you tell me how to reforge the Sword of Gith?"

"You must not make the mistakes that others made in the past. They saw the shadow and considered it a threat, but they forgot that a shadow is put a pale outline cast from a single source, encompassing its master. To reforge the sword, you must look past the shadows cast by the individual pieces, and see to the core of the weapon."

"But I don't have all of the pieces."

"That is not important. You should not try to reforge the same weapon; it will never _be_ the same weapon. It can only ever be a new weapon cast from old parts. But it will be no less powerful for it, if done correctly."

"That doesn't tell me _how_ to reforge it."

"It can only be reforged through an act of will. It must be your will alone that will shape the blade and make it anew. And it is your will that you should know and be sure of, for the King of Shadows will employ fear and doubt long before the battle is even joined. You must know the reasons that you are fighting this war, or you will lose it."

"So... I merely need to _think_ about reforging the blade, and it will happen?"

"It is not quite as easy as you make it sound. Your will must be focused, you must concentrate entirely on reforging the weapon. And it must be done in the place that it was broken. There will be power, in that spot, for nothing can break the most powerful Silver Sword ever created without expending an enormous amount of power. Perhaps that is why the King of Shadows was banished back to its home Plane."

"There... is a scar, in my home village," she admitted cautiously. "On the ground. Where the sword was broken."

"Then that is where you must take your shards to reforge them into the sword."

"But it's deep within the Mere, through the Claimed Lands! To enter that place means death and corruption."

"It will be difficult, Kalach-cha," Zhjaeve spoke up. "But I believe we can use the Illefarn song portals to enter the Guardian Ruins on the edge of your village. We may avoid the worst of the corruption."

"Then you have your answer," said Nolaloth. "Now, I ask you for something in return."

"What is it?" Kail asked.

"I know, now, that there is no hope for my revival. For a being of the Planes, such as I, to be chained here for eternity, being slowly driven mad... it is a crime, one that I wish you to set right. Release my chains. Free me from this cage, and let me die at last."

"You _want_ to die?"

"It is preferable to remaining here, alone, slowly becoming insane, yes. You need only smash my heart... it is the only living part of my body left. When it is destroyed, I will die. You may harm it, now that I wish it. But be warned; the dragons who come here to feed on my power and energy will quickly attack when they realise what you are doing. Breaking my heart will slay them all. You must move quickly, once you begin."

"I will do as you ask. You have suffered enough."

"Thank you. I die knowing that at least one creature on this wretched Plane is capable of showing compassion."

The dragon disappeared, the water returned to the pool, and Kail stepped away from the edge. She felt saddened by Nolaloth's plight, far more than she ever would have thought herself capable. Here was a powerful creature struck down in the prime of its life. It had been ignored and eventually forgotten by the people who had requested its aid, and then lied to and betrayed by those who subsequently come to visit it. And she had to wonder; was his fate to be her fate, too?

Her thoughts were dark as she made her way down the path, past her friends and back into the main crater where the heart awaited her. Now that she had spoken to Nolaloth, she knew what she could expect in the future. The people of Illefarn had hailed him as their hero and worshipped him, just as the people of Neverwinter hailed and worshipped her. But no amount of worship could prevent defeat and death. If she was defeated by the King of Shadows, the people of Neverwinter would turn their backs on her, just as the Illefarn had done to Nolaloth.

But now that she was expecting it, she could be ready for it. She could prepare for it. Nolaloth had gone into his battle believing that he might come out alive. And if a crystal dragon could not defeat the King of Shadows, what hope did she have? Not that it would stop her from trying, of course. She would not allow the King of Shadows to roam free, not after what he had done to her, to West Harbor. But she would make sure that if she was going to die, she would die completely and utterly. She would not allow her spirit to become trapped and used by people a thousand years in the future. She would not beg, in a millennia, somebody else to free her from un-life. She would not be made helpless.

"Kalach-cha? Have you changed your mind?" asked Zhjaeve, and she realised that she had been standing in front of the heart, staring at it unseeing, for some minutes.

"Just... give me a moment," she said, taking a deep breath. She wanted to remember this time, this place. She wanted to remember Nolaloth, not just to learn from his mistakes, but also to preserve his memory. After all, if she was going to be the one to banish him to physical and spiritual oblivion, the least she could do was ensure as many people remembered his sacrifice for as long as possible.

_I'm just like you, Nolaloth,_ she thought, silently addressing the dragon, wondering if he could even hear her. _They put me up on a pedestal too. They tried to tempt me with wealth and land and titles. They want me to throw myself into the fire to save them. They'll be pleased if I survive it, but they'll settle for me dying, as long as their lives are preserved. And I'll do it, if necessary, but I won't let them use me. If I go to the fire it's by my will, my choice, and mine alone. I won't let anybody sway me, though they may think I'm doing it for the greater good. I'm not, I'm doing it because the King of Shadows needs to be stopped, and I'm the only one who can do it. And I'll keep your memory alive until the day that I die._

"I'm ready," she said, drawing the Daystar into one hand and the Sword of Quickness into the other. "Here's how I want to do it. The heart is too high for anybody but Mister Pointy to reach, so Qara, Zhjaeve, Sand, Neeshka, Bishop and Grobnar... I want you to fire everything you have at it, and don't stop for anything. I will distract any dragons that show up, with Elanee, Casavir and Khelgar. Mister Pointy can help us. Breaking that heart is the most important task. Everybody understand?"

There was a chorus of 'yes', along with a complaint from Qara that her powers were better suited to fighting living foes than inanimate objects, but everybody fell into line quickly enough.

"Everybody ready with their spells, arrows, bolts, and other thrown sundry?" she asked. A group nod followed. "Good. Then you may begin."


	84. In Shadow Forged

_84. In Shadow Forged  
_

"You lied to Nolaloth." Kail leant over the table where Ammon Jerro was sitting nursing a cup of black liquid in the tavern. Flames of anger licked at her mind, kept on a tight leash. She wanted Ammon to _see_ her displeasure. To feel its effects.

"Yes," he admitted without hesitation. "I deemed it necessary."

"And have you lied to me, too? Have you deemed it necessary to tell falsehoods and with-hold information from me, also?"

"Of course I have with-held information from you," he said, the anger in his own voice mimicking hers. "I have lived for far longer than you, seen much more than you, _learnt_ and forgotten more than you will ever know in a life-time. I tell you what you know as and when you need to know it... to do otherwise would overwhelm your small mind with information. But I have never lied to you."

"Good. I despise liars." She stood up, backing out of his personal space and running her hand over the hilt of the Daystar. "Pack a bag, grab your weapon, and find a horse from the stable."

"Where are we going?" he asked gruffly. He didn't say please, or ask nicely, and she didn't want him to. It was one of the aspects of his personality that she liked. He didn't try to please her, he didn't fawn, he simply expected to be told and expected to be listened to. There was honesty, in that. There were no games with him. He was as dedicated to his task as Nevalle was to his... only their tasks differed greatly.

"To Arvahn," she said. "You and I, and Zhjaeve. Just the three of us."

"There is nothing for us in Arvahn. We have done the rituals, taken what information was there, and have no need to return."

"Arvahn is not our destination, simply a step in our journey. We're going to reforge the Sword of Gith."

o - o - o - o - o

"This is crazy. You _have_ to let me go with you!" Neeshka begged. Kail finished shoving a change of clean clothes and enough rations for several days into her pack, then tipped the shards of the sword onto her bed, arranging them like a puzzle in the rough shape of a blade. Then she shook her head.

"No. I'm going with Ammon and Zhjaeve."

"But lass," said Khelgar. "Who'll protect ye from those two?"

Kail smiled at her friends. They were sitting in her suite with her, trying to talk her into letting them accompany her back to West Harbor. And though she would welcome their company on the journey, she knew they would only distract her from her task.

"I heard you might need someone to help guide you through the Mere, 'Captain'," said Bishop, stepping around the golem that was once again guarding her door, and taking up a lounging position against the wall.

"You heard wrong," she informed him coolly. "I'm going by Song Portal to the ruins just outside West Harbor. I know the place well and can find my way easily. And you two," she said, turning to Khelgar and Neeshka, "as much as I'd love to have you along, I need to remain focused on the task. I can't have any distractions whilst I'm reforging the blade."

"What if Garius attacks you?" Neeshka asked worriedly.

"Don't worry, we'll be fine."

"I have a bad feeling about this, lass," said Khelgar.

"You have a bad feeling about _everything_, Khelgar. I've made up my mind, guys. You'll just have to sit this one out I'm afraid. Now, are you going to come down to the courtyard and see us off?"

"Aye, I suppose we can do that much at least."

She fastened the buttons on her coat and hefted her backpack onto her shoulders. They had only returned to the Keep from Nolaloth's valley that morning, which had given her time for a quick bath and a hot meal before setting off again. Because she and Zhjaeve were still somewhat exhausted from the intensive pace she had set, she had opted to ride to Arvahn. They could leave the horses there and travel by Song Portal to West Harbor. Then back the same way, picking up their horses and riding home.

Kana had already been given orders for the next few days, and Nevalle had been apprised of the situation. All that was left for her to do now was meet Ammon and Zhjaeve and set out before it got any darker.

In the courtyard, Ammon was already mounted on a black horse, and Zhjaeve was being helped into the saddle of a bay by two of the grooms. The githzerai had never ridden before, though Ammon looked comfortable enough. After being hugged by Neeshka, Kail sprang into Wind's saddle, settling him with a touch on the rains and a squeeze of her legs. Her horse pawed impatiently at the ground, eager to be out of the stable.

"I still think you should let us go with you," Neeshka called up to her.

"You can come on the next trip... wherever it may be to," she promised.

When one of the Greycloaks raised the portcullis, she nudged Wind forward, followed by Zhjaeve and then Ammon.

"Good luck lass!" Khelgar called.

"Thanks!" she shouted back as the distance between them grew. "And try to keep Veedle out of my room!"

o - o - o - o - o

Kail took a deep breath, willing her heart to slow its rapid beat as she stared at the ruined statue in front of her. The last time she had been here was shortly after the destruction of West Harbor. She had allowed her anger to consume her. She had channelled so much of her energy into the Ritual of Purification in an attempt to destroy the Reaver that had brought destruction and ruin to her home village, that it had exhausted her. After that, she had slipped into a waking coma, forcing her mind deep into a false dream of home, fuelled by her guilt and her grief.

Even now, weeks later, just thinking about how she felt at the time was enough to stir her guilt once more. She had thought that she was past this, that she was past blaming herself, but clearly she wasn't. All she had ever wanted to do was to keep her home safe. She had let everybody down. It may as well have been her hand that had killed them, her lips that had uttered the orders for West Harbor to be destroyed.

But she would not let them down again. She would destroy the King of Shadows, or die trying. To do that, she needed the Sword of Gith. And to reforge the Sword of Gith, she needed to focus, she needed her will to be strong and resolute. She could allow no doubt into her heart, for if she did, the blade would not be reforged. Or, worse, it would be reforged poorly, corrupted by her own weakness, made impure by her guilt.

So, as she stood in front of the statue that would never speak again, she pushed down her feelings of guilt and of grief. She took the people of West Harbor and locked them deep within her heart, where she could not idly think of them. One by one she recalled the memories that made her happy; hunting in the Mere with her father, playing with Bevil and Amie, lying in Valear's arms, and forced them down where they could not be recalled easily. Then she remembered the dark times; Amie dying at the hands of the githyanki, losing control of her powers and incinerating Lorne with dragon-fire, Shandra lying cold and lifeless in Jerro's Haven. These memories, and all the feelings that accompanied them, joined the happier memories, locked deep inside her.

One thought arose in her mind; _I __**will**__ reforge the Sword of Gith_. It rose from her other thoughts like a single bird rising in flight, and she pushed all other thoughts away. Emotions went with them; fear, anger, grief, happiness, longing, want, hunger, need, joy, sorrow... she buried them deep inside herself, and found stillness within her mind. She felt nothing, nothing at all. She wanted nothing. She needed nothing. Only one thought filled her; the Sword would live again.

"Know that although this place is within the claimed lands, the shadow's influence on it is far less than I would have thought," said Zhjaeve. Kail's mind registered the words, processed them, and stored them away for future examination. Right now, it didn't matter.

"Why should that be?" asked Ammon.

"The Illefarn must have known to protect this place, to ward it against the taint of the shadow."

"We have to go, quickly," said Kail. Even as she began to feel urgency, she suppressed it. This feeling, this emptiness and focus towards a single goal, was similar to how she had felt in the past when she had lost control of herself in combat. In a berserker rage, her feelings and emotions became a furious storm, fuelling her body, but leaving her feeling empty afterwards. This was similar, only her feelings and emotions hadn't been used up, they had been hidden, and she did not know how long they would remain hidden for. Eventually they would begin to rise again, and she would lose control, lose this feeling of stillness and emptiness and focus. They had to reach the scar in West Harbor before that happened.

"Very well," said Zhjaeve. "But know that once we leave this place, the corruption of the Claimed Lands will begin to slowly taint us. We must not stay here any longer than necessary. Lead the way, Kalach-cha."

Stepping outside the ruins, Kail understood what Zhjaeve meant. She immediately began to feel a little nauseous, and felt a little of her strength drain, as if it was being slowly sapped. She did not tarry through the Mere. Though Bishop had said that the waters had risen and fallen in places, changing the paths, these paths, at least, remained the same. She set a pace that bordered on jogging, leading the way surely through the Claimed Lands to the place she had once called home.

Two figures awaited them on the outskirts of West Harbor. Kail felt a prickle of hope, then fought it back down to the depths of her soul, where her feelings and memories lay dormant. She could not allow herself to feel hope, or anything else. Whoever these figures were, she would find out soon enough, and she would deal with them after assessing the situation in the village.

Drawing closer, she recognised Webb and Ward Mossfeld. They were standing confused beside their house, as if they didn't know how they had got there.

"Do you see them?" she asked Zhjaeve and Ammon.

"Yes, Kalach-cha."

"I see them, but you shouldn't trust them," said Ammon.

"You've returned!" said Webb, when the brothers caught sight of her.

"Webb, Ward... what are you doing here?" she asked. She knew that it was not truly them; they were but pale imitations of the real Webb and Ward. But if they were the spirits of Webb and Ward, trapped in un-death, why could Ammon and Zhjaeve see them? The last time she had walked through the Mere she had heard the voices of the dead, but nobody else could hear what she could hear. Nobody else could see what she could see. It was her tainted blood that allowed her to see and hear those murdered. No amount of tainted blood could account for these two figures. And they did not seem the same as the others, as the humans and elves who had called out to her in strange tongues, as the souls of Brother Merring and Georg, and others who had cried out where they had been slain.

"We don't know," said Ward. "We just found ourselves here, and we can't seem to leave the village. Isn't that strange?"

"I have no time to talk to you right now. I am here to stop the shadow," Kail said, dismissing them from her mind. Whoever they were, whatever they were, they were keeping her from her goal.

"We can help!" said Webb. "And we can prove that it's really us. If you want to stop the shadow, you need to get to the village, but the bridge has been destroyed."

"We can show you another way," said Ward. "Follow us!"

They ran together, down to the river. When she received nods from both of her companions, she followed them, and found them standing by the narrowest point of the river itself.

"Now your journey ends here, Shard-bearer," hissed Webb. Before his eyes, the brothers' bodies began to ripple; their eyes shone red and the bodies were cloaked in darkness.

"Shadows!" she called, though it was quite unnecessary. Zhjaeve was already starting to channel positive energy through her body, and Ammon had begun casting one of his infernal spells. Kail drew the Daystar, willing the fiery blade to life, and the shadows cringed in the light of the blade. She stepped forward and swung at one of them, and it jumped back just in time to save its un-life. And instant later warm energy emanated outwards in a circle with Zhjaeve at its epicentre, and it ripped through the shadows, tearing apart the bonds of darkness that held them together. When the light disappeared, nothing was left.

"Know that we must be on guard against such further tricks as we pass through the village," said Zhjaeve.

"We have to cross that," Kail said, pointing at the river with the Daystar before sheathing the weapon.

"We must not touch the water. It is poisonous, and will burn our flesh."

"Perhaps we can fashion a make-shift bridge from these," said Ammon, nudging a fallen sapling trunk with his booted toe.

Together they hoisted as many narrow trunks as they could find to the water's edge, then carefully placed them as a bridge over the river. One by one they stepped across, with Kail as the lightest going first, and Ammon bringing up the rear. Safely across, they stopped for a moment to drink water and eat food, which Zhjaeve said would help them fight off the taint of the land for longer, then set off once more into the village.

There was movement up ahead, beside the well, and Kail held out her arm, signalling the others to stop. One hand on the hilt of the Daystar, she stepped cautiously forward, ready to draw the weapon to defend herself. When she stepped around the well, she found herself looking into the scared face of Danan Starling, Bevil's younger brother. Grief once more threatened to overwhelm her, and it took every ounce of will that she possessed to suppress the emotion. Danan was just a child, he didn't deserve... _No!_ She realised that she was letting her thoughts and feelings drift again, and she centred herself once more. She could cry for Danan once she returned to the Keep. Now, she had more important business here in the village.

"You aren't like the others. You aren't hollow. You aren't going to try to take me too, are you?" Danan asked, his voice small and scared.

"Where do you think I'll take you?" she replied.

"I don't know! Men like ghosts keep coming and trying to take me. But they can't catch me. I can hide in the swamp, and they never find me."

"Who are the hollow men?"

"They're not like you. You can see through them. They look like normal folk but they make me feel strange. I don't like them. That's why I always run when they come."

"I need you to tell me what happened here."

"I... I woke up and everyone was gone one day. I tried to look for my Ma, but she was gone too. They wanted to take me. I could feel it when I woke up, like someone as trying to grab me by the collar and drag me, but I wouldn't let them. I need to find my Ma. I just need to find her."

"We'll look for her together."

At that moment, several shadows coalesced from the darkness. Danan screamed and ran off, and the Daystar was in Kail's hand in an instant. But these shadows were stronger than the last; they did not shy away from the weapon's light. They did not cower in fear.

"Our enemy is not the only one who can manipulate the dead," said Ammon, his eyes glowing orange with an inner-fire. He spoke an incantation and there was movement from the ground around them. Skeletal arms broke through the soil, dragging bodies up with them, bodies which clung to swords and staves and hammers and axes. It was said that West Harbor was built upon the bones of dead civilisations... she just hadn't realised that it was literally true.

As Ammon's skeletal army charged forwards towards the Shadows, Zhjaeve began channelling positive energy again. Kail knew that there was only so many times the githzerai could do that before her power, and her body, was exhausted, so she herself charged with the skeleton, striking first against the shadows that waited them.

On more than one occasion, shadows tried to grasp at her with their icy-black fingers, trying to sap her strength. At those times, Ammon was there, with spell or sword to fight back the beasts that wanted her strength and her life for their own. Before long, all of the shadows had been cast down, destroyed completely.

"I tire of these shadows, and their futile attempts to stop us," said Ammon at last as he dismissed the skeletons. The magic holding them together unravelled, and they fell where they stood, crumpled into mere piles of bones. For an instant Kail felt sadness and regret that old warriors had been used in such a way, without any care for their bodies and spirits. Then she fought the sadness, sending it away before other emotions could follow it up.

"As do I. We must hurry."

"Are you well, Kalach-cha?" asked Zhjaeve. "You feel... strange... to me. I feel a strength and focus from you, and a calmness that I have never known in you before."

"I am well. I am simply determined to reforged the blade. Shall we continue?"

They set off again, and once more Kail caught sight of Danan up ahead. But there was another figure standing not far away, gesturing to the boy. The figure was that of Retta Starling, but as the boy approached his mother, Kail's protective instinct kicked in. She automatically changed her course, heading now for the pair.

"Ma? Is that you?" Danan asked, hope shining in his small eyes.

"Yes, Danan, it is me," said Retta, holding out a hand for him. When Kail looked closely at the woman, a chill ran down her spine. Retta's eyes were lifeless and empty, her skin pallid and grey, and shadows seemed to cling to the hem of her dress.

"Danan!" she said. "That is not your mother."

"What does she mean, Ma?" Danan asked, clearly confused.

"She means nothing," said Retta, narrowing her eyes at Kail. "Who are you?"

"If you were really Retta Starling, you'd know who I am. Now, step away from the boy."

"Never! He is mine!" Retta hissed. The shadow around her dress grew, encompassing her whole body even as she sprang forward in attack. Kail drew the Daystar, ducked under the shadow's arms, and pierced its incorporeal body from behind with the sword. The beast screamed as it was engulfed by flames, and then it was simply gone, unmade by the power of the weapon.

"That... wasn't my mother," said Danan sadly.

"No. I don't think your mother is here anymore, Danan," she replied.

"I don't know what to do. I'm so cold and alone."

"Know that your will is strong," said Zhjaeve, "and it is your will that binds you to this place. You need only concentrate on yourself, think of nothing else but you, in order to move on."

Danan closed his eyes, and his spirit began to fade. Just before he disappeared completely, he held out his hand, revealing a stick or a root.

"Here, you can have this now. I don't need it anymore."

Kail took the root and the boy faded completely. Now she knew that at least one spirit in West Harbor had been lain to rest. It put her mind at ease.

"It's easier to breathe here, now," she said, feeling the corruption around her lessen.

"It seems this root was what was protecting the boy," said Zhjaeve. "It was probably what prevented him from being corrupted."

"Then let us keep it close," said Ammon. Kail nodded, and tucked the root into her belt. Then she turned her gaze back to the road. She could see, only two dozen paces away, an area of green grass that was scorched and scarred black. Fighting back apprehension, she walked onwards, and heard her friends follow wordlessly.

"We are here," said Zhjaeve as they approached. There was something in her voice that was akin to reverence. "This is the place, I can feel it. The scar runs deep."

"This is where I struck at the King of Shadows... and the blade, it shattered." Ammon knelt down, running his hand over the blackened earth.

"It is here that we must mend the blade anew and close the wound. Yet without your presence and focus, this is but a place. Is your will here?" Zhjaeve asked her.

"Yes," she replied simply. She had never been so focused in all her life.

"Very well. Sit with me." The githzerai took up a cross-legged position beside the scar, and Kail sat opposite her. Together they lay the shards of the sword onto the ground, beside a hilt that had been created by the smith in Crossroad Keep. The hilt of the sword, Zhjaeve had told her, was inconsequential. It was an insignificant part of the whole weapon. The shards themselves would be the weapon, and so Kail had asked the weaponsmith to create something that was functional. The silver detail along the handle, in twisted filigree, was something he had added himself, merely for aesthetic purposes.

"Listen to my voice, grasp the hilt and close your eyes," said Zhjaeve. Kail followed the githzerai's instructions, holding the hilt in both of her hands, even though it was designed to be held in one. It felt more natural to hold it with both hands, like she was focusing her entire _being _upon it. "Hear not just my words but the meaning behind them. Zerthimon's will, my will, your will. Let us all be as one. In this place, broken upon shadow, carved deep in earth. What once was sundered, from two peoples born. Make all that was scattered whole again by the heart that guides the will. By the will that guides the hand. And the hand... that guides the blade."

Kail absorbed Zhjaeve's words, letting them pass over her mind, but not lingering on any hidden meaning. She felt warmth inside her chest, warmth that she had felt once before and never thought she would feel again. It was the warmth that she felt when Valear had held her in his arms, and now it suffused her again, spreading out from her chest to encompass her body, her arms, her legs, right up to the top of her scalp and right down to the ends of her toes. Her skin began to tingle, like ants running over it, and inside her chest the warmth grew hotter.

She heard sounds, like metal ringing against glass, producing every tone of note available. The ringing grew into a musical chime, the shards of the sword singing a new, unique song as they were forced back together. She felt the weapon _peering_ into her soul, at everything that she kept there, felt it assess her, judge her, and finally it found her worthy. The warmth that flowed through her body suffused her with power, and she felt joy and bliss sending tingling sensations of pleasure across every nerve in her body.

But she knew the joy was not hers; it was the Sword's. Warriors of the Kara-tur believed their weapons had souls, but they surely paled in comparison to the Sword of Gith. It not only had a soul, it had a voice, and it spoke to her through the shard in her chest, making its will known. It had spent so long sleeping, shattered. Now that it had been remade, it would never allow itself to be broken again. It would strengthen itself by slaying her enemies. It would taste the blood of its foes and it would not allow itself to rest until they all lay dead at her feet.

It was the Sword of Gith, but it was also the Sword of Kail, and it remade itself partially in her image. It took on the aspects of her strongest feelings and emotions; it sought, most of all, vengeance against the King of Shadows. It sought to unmake the one who had destroyed it, the one who had destroyed West Harbor. It would never, ever tire, it would never, ever stop fighting. It would fight relentlessly for as long as it had a single enemy left. It would never, ever yield, and it would fight until there was nothing left to fight.

The Sword also absorbed other aspects of her personality; it found her weaknesses, hidden even from herself. It yearned and hungered, it knew fear and knew what it meant to lose control. In her strength was arrogance, and this was absorbed as well. Then it turned to the primal part of her; there existed within everybody a core of being, something that would still exist even if all of civility was stripped away. Inside her, just as inside every person, was the part of her that was kept leashed, that most people draped with morals and values and codes, because according to society, if you didn't have morals and values and codes, you were an animal. But the Sword saw past the morals, the values, the codes. It saw to her core, and it absorbed what was there; desire, rage, and the will to survive. It was the part of her that _wanted_, and it took that too.

At last the sword was done with her. The warmth in her chest disappeared, and she opened her eyes. In her hands was the Sword, the Sword that she had never wanted but knew she must have. It was terrible and beautiful to behold. The blade shimmered with silver light that radiated from inside the weapon itself. When she focused on it, tiny arcs of silver lightning crackled over the blade, keeping tempo with the rhythm of her body and mind. Some pieces of the sword were missing, and these ghost-pieces were outlined in silvery-blue energy, ethereal pieces of a physical sword.

"Impressive," said Ammon, standing above her. "I was not sure you would be able to reforge the sword."

"It... wanted to be reforged," she said, standing. She used the back of her coat sleeve to wipe the perspiration that was slicking her forehead, then realised that her whole body was sweating.

"Only for you will the sword live," said Zhjaeve. "No longer do you carry the Heart of the Sword. Truly, now, you are its Heart." She stopped speaking abruptly and turned her head, listening to the still breeze. "Something comes," she warned.

Kail hefted the Sword of Gith, but did not draw any other weapon into her left hand. The Sword, she knew, wanted to fight this battle alone. It wanted no other weapon to share in its first victory. Kail felt worry, but not surprise, when a Shadow Reaver appeared on the path, blocking their way back to the Illefarn ruins.

"How does it feel to be back home, Shard-bearer?" it rasped, shadows dancing around its form. "Is that the famed blade? It looks so fragile... and little use without you to hold it together."

"I think you will find its edge more than a match for shadow and mere words," Zhjaeve said confidently. "Will you test it, thrall of shadows? "

"My master does not fear a poorly forged blade... nor a poorly forged hero."

"We'll test it on you, then," said Kail, and the sword screamed in her heart for a taste of the Reaver's blood.

"Stall the Reaver while I recite its true name. Together, we can break this creature," said Ammon.

"I brought some friends to help you with the recitation," said the Reaver, raising its arms into the air. More shadows sprang up from the ground around him, with fire-red eyes bathed in darkness. "You may recognise them. After all, they once lived in West Harbor."

"Be careful, the poisonous shadow of this land clings to this Reaver. We must hurry!" Zhjaeve warned. At the same time, she began channelling energy, turning undead to repel the shadows from where Ammon was reciting the names on the scroll.

Kail gave the Sword its first taste of an enemy for twenty-three years. It sliced cleanly through the shadows, searing their bodies with energy, forcing them back or slaying them as is struck. More shadows rose to replace the ones that fell, and she dropped back to stand beside Zhjaeve, so that they could make their stand together. The Sword cried that it wasn't necessary, that as long as she had it, she would need no-one else to fight with her, but she ignored it. Protecting Ammon as he read the scroll was more important than seeking revenge, at least for the moment.

Looking over his shoulder she noticed him nearing the end of the list, and knew that the True Name would soon be spoken. She needed something that would both distract the Reaver and injure it. Something that would keep back the shadows long enough for Ammon to finish.

She closed her eyes, thinking of the Illefarn Rituals, but something happened in their place. She had intended to lash out with her mind, activating one of the Rituals to burn the undead. Instead, the Sword picked up on her intentions, and let her mind carry it with it. She felt the sword breaking apart, the shards carried by their own energy. They flew out from her hand and then began whirling around her, cutting anything that came too close. But at the same time, they avoided Ammon and Zhjaeve, intentionally preventing themselves from harming her friends.

Opening her eyes, she saw the shards racing around her like a storm, and she was in the eye of it. Ammon finished reciting the scroll, and arcs of silver lightning flashed from shard to shard as they cut through the Reaver's body. It screamed an unnatural cry of pain, and just when she thought the it would succumb to its injuries, she felt a searing pain in her chest. Suddenly, she couldn't breath. It hurt merely to try to inhale, and she felt herself grow weak. The shards came rushing back towards her, reforming themselves into the Sword, but it was too late. She sank to the ground as her vision went black.


	85. Full Circle

_85. Full Circle_

Sitting beside Elanee inside the tavern, Casavir let out a deep sigh. He had never felt so conflicted before. In one way, he was happier than he had been for a long time. But on the other hand, he still found himself worrying constantly over Kail's welfare. The young woman was changing before his eyes. When he had first met her she had been a proud, strong woman. Her quiet, self-effacing manner belied her natural flair for flamboyancy. She had led without realising it. She had been feisty, quick to anger and quick to defend herself with an acid tongue, and she had a mischievous streak that had sometimes gotten the better of her. She had been curious, and gave respect to those who respected her.

Now... in a way, she was still the same person, but masked behind layers of... something else. The weight of responsibility sat heavily on her shoulders. The maintenance of the Keep seemed to be slowly wearing her down, and he was glad when she was able to take herself away from it for a few days. But recently she seemed saddened, as if she had been given terrible news and taken it within her stride, not mourning, not fighting, but simply accepting it. Now she led because she was forced to, but it had taken its toll on her soul.

She no longer composed music or wrote songs or poetry. She had left her instruments behind in West Harbor, and with them went the more light-hearted side of herself. Her style of fighting had shifted away from throwing knives to dual-wielding her weapons, and she no longer quoted Lucas as often as she had. It was as if she had given up on the one thing that had brought her happiness and calmness; music.

"You are worrying about Kail again," said Elanee, laying a hand on his arm. "I can tell."

"I am sorry. I simply can't help it. I fear that she is losing hope and confidence, that Ammon is convincing her to take short cuts and sacrifice more than is necessary to win the war."

"We must let her do things her own way, Casavir," she said with a small smile. "She is the one who will save us, after all. She won't accept any other way than hers."

"I know. I will try to worry less, in the future. I make no promises, though."

Elanee smiled and ran a hand down his cheek. He caught hold of her hand, turned it, and kissed her palm. From the corner of the room, where sat Neeshka and Khelgar with Grobnar, he heard a snicker. He didn't bother turning around to glare at the tiefling. She had avoided him completely on the journey to and from Nolaloth's valley, and this was the first time he had seen her since their return several days ago. And only because Elanee had dragged him down here, to the tavern. It took her mind off her problems, she had said, and she liked listening to the minstrel play.

Everybody who had been left behind was in the tavern. Qara was reading a book, for once, in one corner of the room. He didn't know what it was, but since Neeshka had given it to her he suspected it had nothing to do with magic. Regardless, it had held the sorceress' attention for hours. She had even ignored a Greycloak who had wolf-whistled at her earlier, a true testament to her concentration being elsewhere.

Bishop was in his usual place by the fire, with the wolf lying beside his chair. When he had told Elanee of Kail's relationship with the ranger, Elanee had laughed, and told him not to believe everything that his eyes showed him. He had no idea what she meant. If they were not in a relationship, then why did Kail allow the Bishop to sleep in her bed? Though, from what he could gather, their relationship was probably quite stormy; the ranger spent more nights in his own room than he did in the Captain's suite. Watching Bishop, he wondered if their relationship was entirely sexual, or whether they actually talked about things, as a normal couple might. Then he found his cheeks heating with guilt; what other people got upto in their relationships was no concern of his.

Sand was also in the tavern, but unlike everyone else, he was not spending his time relaxing. He was sitting at the bar, writing on paper, and holding a quiet conversation with Sal. Casavir had tried to listen in on their conversation, earlier, but they had both merely stopped talking and watched him until he went away. Then he felt guilty over his actions; he was no spy or eavesdropper, to listen to the words of others. What had gotten into him lately?

"The Captain's back!" said Dory, bursting through the front door, bringing a gust of cold winter air with her. "And she's hurt!"

There was a universal sound of scraping chairs as everybody stood and made their way to the door. Everyone except Qara, who appeared not to have heard and merely remained seated with her nose buried in her book.

Outside, the night air was cold enough to make every hair in his body stand on end. The courtyard was well lit by torches, and in the torch-light he could see three horses appearing beneath the tall gate in the wall. One of the horses, a broad-chested grey, was being led riderless by the figure on the bay; Zhjaeve, he realised. Ammon, on his black, was leading the way. On the saddle in front of him was Kail; she was slumped where she sat, leaning back against Ammon, her skin pale and her eyes closed. Ammon had one arm around her waist, to stop her from falling, and in his other hand he held his reins, guiding his horse more with his legs than anything.

"What happened?" Neeshka asked, rushing towards the horses.

"We will tell you once we are inside," said Ammon, halting his horse in the yard. "For now, the Captain needs her bed, and further healing. Somebody take her from me."

Everybody rushed forwards, but Casavir got there first. He accepted the still form of Kail when Ammon handed her down, then set out with her in his arms towards the Keep proper. Half of the group followed him, trying to cluster around the unconscious woman, whilst the other half remained with Ammon and Zhjaeve, questioning the pair about what had happened.

Elanee opened the door of the Captain's suite for him, and he placed the woman on the bed, shivering as he stood. It was almost as cold in here as it was outside. He bent down to examine Kail, checking her pulse and breathing rate, then pulling back her eyelids to test if her pupils were responsive to light.

"What are you waiting for, paladin?" Bishop sneered. "Heal her."

"First I must know what has happened to her, and how much Zhjaeve has already done for her. Without knowing that, I might make her condition worse."

"This is all that bloody Ammon Jerro's fault, I know it!" said Neeshka, curling up on the bed beside Kail. "She never lost consciousness when she was out with us." Elanee pointedly cleared her throat. "Well, almost never," the tiefling amended.

"Know that this was the will of the Kalach-cha herself, and not Ammon Jerro," said Zhjaeve, stepping into the room. In her hands she carried something long, covered in cloth.

"Is that the sword of gith?" asked Sand, peering over her shoulder as he followed her into the room. Grobnar and Khelgar came in after him, followed at last by Ammon himself.

"Yes," said Zhjaeve, placing the weapon on the bed beside Kail. "Know that she successfully reforged the sword, but then we encountered a Reaver. Casavir, I have already exhausted my healing spells. We took injuries during our fight, and have not rested since."

"What is wrong with her?" he asked. He had never seen somebody looking so pale before. Not whilst they were still alive, at least.

"Know that the Kalach-cha is able to break apart and reform the blade at her will. When she does this, it turns itself into a storm of shards that cut all passing near it. The shards swirl around, attracted and repelled by each other, until they run out of energy and converge upon the Kalach-cha once more. She did this, to protect us from the Reaver, and as she did, the shard in her chest moved, trying to join its brothers in their deadly dance. It did not move far, but far enough to cut through the main artery in her heart. She bled inside before I even knew what was wrong with her, and lost a lot of blood. I had to make an incision, to drain the fluid from her chest, before healing her, otherwise she would have drowned in her own blood. I healed her as best I could, but she is exhausted, weak, and requires replacement fluids at regular intervals. We must make sure she drinks small amounts and often, to replace that which she lost."

Casavir nodded, and placed his hands on Kail's body. He felt energy flowing through himself into the unconscious woman. As the magic worked its way through her body, some of the colour returned to her cheeks, and her breathing seemed to come a little easier.

"I will stay with her at first, to ensure she drinks," he volunteered before anybody else could.

"And I will stay with you," said Elanee. He nodded. He would be grateful for the company.

"I will return in the morning, when I have had chance to replenish my spells," said Zhjaeve, and he realised that the githzerai, too, was exhausted. Ammon did not look much better, either.

"I'll take next watch," said Neeshka instantly. "Come and wake me up when it's my turn."

Everybody filed out of the room, and Elanee went to the door, closing it behind them. He himself brought two chairs from beside Kail's table, and sat them on one side of the bed.

"She looks so small and vulnerable," he mused, as Elanee took one of his hands in hers.

"Don't tell her that whilst she's awake," she smiled.

He nodded. Obviously, he would never say such a thing to the bard. She cared too much about appearing strong and confident. He just wished there was more he could do to help her.

o - o - o - o - o

Consciousness beckoned alluringly to Kail. She hovered near it for a while, floating just below its surface. She had dreamt, she knew, but she could not remember her dreams. They had been cold, alien things, and she suspected she was dreaming of a time when the Sword had been held by its original owner.

At last she could stay asleep no longer, and slowly opened her eyes. It was morning; she could tell by the noise that the bloody birds were making outside her window. How long had she been asleep? The last thing she could remember was reforging the Sword. The power that had rushed through her body... it had been almost overwhelming. Even now, she could feel the Sword nearby, singing quietly to her in its chiming voice, though she could not understand the words.

Somebody shifted in the bed behind her, and a warm body was wrapped around hers, an arm strewn casually over her side. Kail smiled.

"I should have known you wouldn't be far," she said.

"I thought you'd never wake up. You had me really worried there, y'know."

She turned and looked into Neeshka's deep red eyes, ringed with dark circles. The tiefling was fully dressed, and looked as if she hadn't slept all night. She felt a pang of guilt, for that. Then she remembered her friend's playful blackmail, and the guilt quickly vanished.

"How long have I slept for?" she asked, sitting up in bed and regretting it when cold air greeted her.

"You passed out after reforging the Sword, or so Zhjaeve said. You've been unconscious since they brought you back last night. I'll go and fetch Zhjaeve, she'll want to check over you, to make sure you're okay."

She nodded, and the tiefling squeezed her arm before leaving the room. Alone, at least for a few moments, Kail reached for the cloth-covered object that had been placed on top of the drawers beside her bed. She knew that it was the Sword, and she felt incomplete without it, like a part of her was missing. It was a feeling she had felt ever since Valear had left her. Taking the Sword in her hand helped to fill that void; but not completely. There was still an aching emptiness inside her, but she had been living with it for several years, and she knew how to ignore it, how to pretend it didn't exist.

Neeshka returned with Zhjaeve, and she suffered in silence as the githzerai gave her a full check-over.

"What happened to me, Zhjaeve?" she asked, as the woman peered into her eyes. What she expected to find there she had no idea.

"Do you remember the Reaver, Kalach-cha?"

"Vaguely."

"You directed your will towards it, causing the Sword to break up into its shards. They whirled around you like a storm, cutting the Reaver and the shadows that drew close. This caused the shard inside your chest to move. It cut into your heart, causing you to bleed internally." Zhjaeve's eyes turned serious. "You must not do this again, Kalach-cha. You were saved because the shard did not manage to move too far before you lost consciousness, and lost control of the Sword. And because I was nearby, to heal you. Next time, you may not have that luxury, so there must be no next time."

"I understand. Just standard sword-stuff from now on," she nodded, caressing the blade with her hand. At the touch of her fingers, silver lightning arced across it, and the cold, lifeless blade sparkled with its inner light.

"Wow, I thought it was pretty before, but when you touch it, it really comes to life," said Neeshka appreciatively.

"I know. Watch," she said, picking up the Sword by its hilt. Immediately, the whole blade sprang to life, shining silver like stars in a black sky.

"Know that this weapon is not a toy, Kalach-cha. You must treat it with the reverence it deserves. The Sword of Gith was forged by Zerthimon for Gith herself, and it is with this blade that she freed us all from thralldom at the hands of the illithids."

"Right. Reverence. Got it," she said, putting the blade back down. "So, am I well enough to get up and wander down to the tavern for some of Sal's home cooking?"

"Yes, Kalach-cha," said Zhjaeve, in the driest tone Kail had ever heard from her.

"Great. Give me a few minutes to get dressed, both of you. I'll meet you down in the tavern... we need to go over what I need to do next."

When Zhjaeve and Neeshka left, Kail stepped in front of her mirror and brushed her hair back from her face with her hand. For the past six months, or thereabouts, she had lived with the perpetual fear that the shards, the Sword of Gith, would somehow change her. It was, after all, a powerful sword of a planar people who didn't really have the best of intentions as far as she was concerned. But she still _looked_ like herself, and she still felt like herself. Her eyes were still the same blue-grey they'd always been, her cheekbones were still high, though her cheeks were a little less full than when she had started out on her journey. Her hair was still... a complete mess, but it was growing out, and in another six months -- if she lived that long -- it would be back to its normal length, sitting just below her shoulders.

Feeling relief that the Sword hadn't really changed her at all, she began to dress. Somebody had put her in her nightshirt, before putting her in bed, and this she removed, giving her body a quick wash in the fresh water in the gilded wash-stand. Then on went her underwear and her warm, body-hugging trousers, thicker than leggings but with enough give and freedom in them to allow her to move unencumbered. She _hated_ being restricted. A white shirt followed the brown trousers, and she tied the strings of the sleeves at her wrists to prevent the rest of the material from falling over her hands, obstructing her finger. The laces at the neck she threaded up by two holes, then tied them off. Her supple leather coat, newly acquired on her last visit to Neverwinter, was donned next, the brown shades complimenting the colour of her hair, though that wasn't why she had bought it. It had been enchanted, conveying protection against the elements, and knew it would surely come in handy.

As she was pulling on her socks, there was a knock at the door. She recognised it and smiled.

"Come in, Kana," she called. The woman entered the room, hovering inside the doorway.

"Captain... forgive me for disturbing you. I heard that you were on your way down to the tavern, but you have a visitor, and I thought you might like to speak to him here, in private."

"Very well," she said, pulling a boot onto a foot and placing against the top of the chest of drawers, so that she didn't have to bend far to reach it. "Send him in."

She turned to her laces as Kana exchanged quiet words with someone. As her fingers worked surely at threading the laces through the holes, she wondered how her companions would react to her next plan. Most of them would probably think her insane, but if Grobnar wanted to find the Wendersnaven, then she would look for them with him. He would do no less for her, after all.

"Hello, Kail," said a familiar voice, and she froze, her blood cold.

_No! It couldn't be! He had died at West Harbor! She had seen the ruins of the house!_ Slowly, she turned her head, and saw Daeghun standing there. He looked exactly how she remembered him. His leather armour was worn and stained from years of use. His bow was strung across his back, a quiver of arrows hanging from his belt. A short sword was sheathed there too, ready to be drawn if needed. His green eyes were as aloof and cold as ever.

"Father?" she asked, taking a step towards him. "But... how...?"

"I saw Bevil in the courtyard, and he told me that you had been to West Harbor, seen its ruins. I was not there, when it happened. No, I was deep within the Mere, scouting the Claimed Lands. Is there one called Elanee, here? If so, I must speak with her."

"I've not seen you for six months and the first thing you ask is if you can speak to Elanee? No 'how are you?' or 'did you find Duncan alright?"

"Very well. How are you?"

"I'm... fine."

"And did you find Duncan alright?"

"Yes."

"I am glad to hear it. Now, where can I find Elanee?"

"Wait a moment," she said, pulling her other boot on and hastily fastening it. "We need to talk."

"There is little time."

"Why, do you have somewhere else to be?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," he said.

"Duncan told me about my mother. About Bhaal."

"It was not his place to tell you, but what's done is done."

"Not his place?" she asked, feeling her anger grow. "Then why didn't _you_ tell me? You've been keeping this hidden from me for almost twenty-four years. Duncan, at least, treats me like an adult. He tells me things that are important, that he thinks I should know."

"And has knowing benefitted you in any way?" he asked, his eyes boring into hers.

"That's beside the point. At least Duncan respected me enough to tell me, instead of keeping me in the dark like some stupid... child! What kind of father keeps a secret that big from his daughter?"

"But I am not your father, Kail," he said, and his words cut her deep inside. "I am merely the man who raised you."

"No. Retta raised me and taught me about compassion. Georg raised me and taught me about strength. Lucas raised me and taught me to fight. Even Tarmas did a better job at raising me than you did."

"Is that what you truly believe?" he asked quietly.

"No," she replied at last, after a moment's uncomfortable silence. "You taught me how to survive. How to be independent. How to be reliant on myself. But you kept things from me. You shut yourself off from me. I might as well have lived alone in that house, for all the warmth you showed me."

"Then I apologise. I did the best that I could. I have never had children of my own. I didn't know how to raise a child. Everything I did was by trial and error. I am sure you will do much better than I, with your children."

"My children?" she laughed, though she felt no humour. "I will never have children. I will never pass on Bhaal's tainted blood to an innocent who does not deserve it. It ends with me. And if I am the last of the Bhaalspawn, then Bhaal's line ends with me. Nobody will ever bring back the Lord of Murder, even if I have to die to ensure it. And I will not force any child to suffer as I have."

"Because only the children of gods ever suffer. No normal child ever suffers. No child born of a mortal family ever has to endure hardship or loss, or go hungry or cold. You are quick to see the negative and lay the blame, but you have so much to be thankful for, even now. It saddens me that you have lost sight of all Lucas and I taught you. But perhaps you were meant to walk your own path. If that is so, then so be it. I make no apologies for anything I have done or will do. I do as I believe is necessary, and am true to myself. Can you still say the same? Can you say that you are true to yourself, Kail?

_I can't be true to myself, because I don't know who I am_, she thought. But instead, she spoke. "What do you want to see Elanee for?"

"That is something I should discuss with Elanee, though you may listen to our words, if you like."

"Fine. I'll take you to her."

"Thank you."

She took the Sword of Gith from her bed and turned to the door without looking at her father. She had always believed that he had done what he thought was best for her. But now she suspected that he had done what was easiest for himself. He trained her to be self-sufficient so that he would not have to take care of her as much. He taught her how to survive alone so that he could leave her alone for extended periods of time. What she had once thought of as her father giving her much-needed freedom, she now saw as him neglecting her, allowing her to be alone whilst he pursued his own interests.

Kail knew that Elanee would be in her grove, so she took the stranger she had known all her life as 'father' to the makeshift druid grove. As she had suspected, Elanee was there, wrapped in a cloak and a blanket, meditating in silence.

"Elanee," she said as she approached. The elven woman opened her eyes, and, spying Daeghun, stood up. "This is my father. Daeghun," she said.

"Ah, it is good to finally meet you," smiled Elanee. "You must be proud that..."

"The Mere has grown dark and many villages needed help in leaving before it was too late," Daeghun interrupted her. "And I have sought the scent on the breeze, to learn of the dark hunter - King of Shadows. More can still be learnt in the Mere. But I have discovered something, and had to tell you at once."

"What is this about?"

"As I hounded the trail of the dark hunter and his minions, I came across something I thought lost. The druids of our lands, the Circle of the Mere, still live."

"Impossible," said Elanee, her hands beginning to shake.

"I can only venture to the swamp for brief periods of time. The reeds and waters feast on the living now. I followed the druids and they had a ritual I think sustained them, even in the Claimed Lands."

"The Circle..." Elanee mused, and Kail heard the hope in her voice. She just hoped that Daeghun wasn't setting her up to let her down. "They must have found a way to restore part of the Mere, keep it from the influence of the shadows. If so, we need to find them. They can tell us more about what is happening in the Mere than anyone... and if we can get them to ally with us, we may even be able to stop what the King of Shadows is doing to the land itself."

"They may be in danger," said Kail, laying a hand on the druid's arm. "We should go to them immediately."

"That was my thought as well," she smiled.

"Then you must make haste at once, if this is your course of action," said Daeghun.

"Are you going to guide us?" Kail asked, in mixed feelings about it.

"No, I cannot. But I can mark the location on your map. As for now, I have other duties in the defence of the Sword Coast and this Keep... and I must see to them."

She gave her map to Daeghun and he indicated the place where he had last seen the druids. Then he walked off, towards the Keep's exit without so much as a backwards glance.

"Your father's not one for showing emotion, is he?" said Elanee wryly. "It's difficult to see how he raised you... and you turned out so different. Regardless, we need to find the Circle, but as for reaching the location, that could be difficult."

"Ah, I thought I heard the cries of a damsel in distress," said Bishop, sauntering into the grove with Karnwyr on his heels. "Someone had to fill Shandra's role, eh?"

"Bishop, this doesn't concern you, so stop spying on us," Elanee snapped.

"My dear, with you around, it pays to be extra watchful," he said, a feral look in his eyes as he watched the elf. "As for you, wildcat... heard your father was playing scout. I wanted to meet him, tell him what a wonderful girl he raised... all of the Sword Coast is thankful, I'm sure."

"I'm surprised you even care," she said, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Surprises and me travel together. You should know that by now. For another surprise, why don't you show me on the map you have there where your druid friends are?"

"They're in the Mere, along the northwestern reaches, near the settlements the orcs attacked many years ago during their incursion into Neverwinter," said Elanee.

"I suspected that might be one of the places... as for incursions, it wasn't just orcs. That's near an area the King of Shadows isn't likely to have claimed... yet. Might be a good staging area to look for your dead druid friends."

"Daeghun says they're alive." There was a note of defiance in Elanee's voice that she hadn't heard there for a long time.

"Maybe for now. Still, if you want to go, I can guide you to a safe port on the edge of the marsh."

"Alright... that would be welcome."

Kail narrowed her eyes at the man and gestured for him to join her, away from the grove.

"I asked you a few days ago to go into the Mere, to take a message to the lizardmen, and you refused. Now you're suddenly willing to go?" she asked quietly, keeping her voice down so Elanee wouldn't hear.

"First of all, _Captain_," he said, stepping close and keeping his own voice to a low growl. "You didn't _ask_, you _suggested_. Asking would have involved the phrase 'Please will you...', or something similar. Second, I don't know where the lizards are, and I didn't fancy walking around the Claimed Lands until I stumbled into them, if they're even still there. But if your little map is correct, we can go straight to the druids. And third, if your father can make it that far, so can I."

"Is this just a competition to you? Somebody can do something, so you have to do it better?"

"Guess we're not that different after all, wildcat," he said, raising a hand to run the back of his fingers along her jaw. "I'll set out now, start scouting the path, and join up only when need be. It'll save us all a lot of time, and I'm sure you can remember your way back to the Mere."

He whirled past her, eddies of cold air swirling behind him, and she shivered. She just couldn't figure him out. He'd spent three nights in her bed and hadn't touched her once, apart from when he had taken away the pain in her back. Now that he was out of her bed, he seemed to have gone back to fleeting, provocative touches once more. He was playing a game with her, she knew. She just hadn't figured out exactly what that game was yet. Shaking her head, she dismissed him from her thoughts and returned to the grove. Right now, she had other things to worry about.

"Elanee, Bishop's gone on ahead to scout the lie of the land, or something. He'll join up with us on the outskirts of the Mere. These druids... they're your people, your family. How do you want to do this?"

"You mean... you will allow me to lead?" she asked incredulously.

"Of course. You know these people, and I want to help them. They would make valuable allies. I trust you with this."

"Thank you. It means a lot to me, that you still trust me. How are you feeling, by the way?"

"Oh, you know how it is... almost died, got healed, now I'm better."

"Sometimes, being healed does not cure all pain," said Elanee.

"I know," she said quietly. "But we should probably set off soon rather than later. Should I tell everyone to assemble in the courtyard in, say, an hour?"

"Yes, please do. But maybe tell Grobnar to leave the golem behind. The damp Mere is not a good place for such things, and... my Circle my be intimidated by it. They are not as used to civilisation and its creations as I am."

"I understand. Go and pack your bag, and I'll have Kana track everybody down. We'll be at the Mere in no time. You'll see," she said, smiling at the gratitude in Elanee's tired eyes.

o - o - o - o - o

"Haven't you just _come_ from the Mere? Couldn't you have sorted all of this out while you were there?" Qara moaned.

"I didn't know about the druids, back then," Kail replied, going through a mental checklist, trying to remember if she had packed her sleeping roll. It was a two day journey along the High Road, straight to the Mere. And it was a dangerous journey; bandits and the undead both traversed this area regularly, though she hoped that her band of travellers was large enough to deal with any undead, and that word of her had spread amongst the bandits. They'd have to be stupid bandits indeed, to attack her group. "Plus, I was busy being a bit unconscious," she added.

"Daeghun said that he could make brief forays into the Claimed Lands to observe the druids," Elanee mused aloud. "It could be that they are on the edges on the Claimed Lands, in a place where it will be relatively safe for us to enter."

"I must make observations and readings whilst we are there," said Sand. He rolled his eyes. "Aldanon has asked me to measure the effects of the Claimed Lands, so we can work out how fast it is spreading."

"Then you should do as he asks," said Ammon. "He may be somewhat eccentric, but he is one of the smartest men in Neverwinter."

"It really is a shame we couldn't bring Mister Pointy," said Grobnar. "He does so like to get out of the Keep and see new things."

"It is a mindless, magically animated suit of armor," said Ammon. "It doesn't have thoughts or feelings."

"Sometimes I think we're all magically animated collections of cells and organs, but we have thoughts and feelings, don't we?"

"Yes, but we have brains. At least, most of us do."

Kail turned her attention away from the ensuing argument about what truly constituted 'life', and surveyed the road ahead and to the sides of the path. She had seen no signs that Bishop had passed this way, but then, he hardly ever left signs behind. If something was wrong, he would send Karnwyr. She hoped. Otherwise she'd just continue on the road until it grew too dark to travel.

When the night did begin to set in, they stopped some way off the road in a well-used camping location. A circle of stones sat in the middle of a clearing in the forest, and Neeshka got straight to work building a fire. Nobody had done any hunting as they travelled, because they had brought enough rations for the journey to the Mere and back. As the hour grew late, Kail arranged for everybody to take shifts keeping watch, then settled down into her sleeping roll, hugging her legs to her chest for warmth. The advantage of sleeping a cold room was that she had become used to the cold, and it no longer bothered her as much. Sleep came fairly easily, out here, beneath the shining stars.

o - o - o - o - o

From her vantage point atop a small hill, Kail looked down on the western edges of the Mere. It was embroiled in fog, dark, swirling mists washing over it. Occasionally she caught sight of tall trees, their tops peeping out over the rolling fog, but more often than not her view was obscured, and she wondered how much of the fog was natural and how much was shadow-influenced.

"No place like home, eh?" asked Bishop, emerging from the forest and standing beside her to observe the scene.

"I have no home," she said, echoing the words she had spoken to Jadar as they had strolled Neverwinter's dock. But she didn't take her eyes off the eerie vista. "Something else we have in common, no doubt."

They stood in silence, and Kail let her thoughts wander. What was down there had been home, once. It had nurtured her and shaped her. It had been the place she had played, the place she had grown, the place she had lived. Now half of it was wreathed in shadow, tainted and corrupted so that even the waters were poison to the touch, and it was only a matter of time before the other half was swallowed up by the King of Shadows. She knew that, when it was gone, few would mourn its loss. It would be nothing but a footnote in a history book; 'And so the shadow descended upon Meredelain, and it was lost forever'. To care about the Mere, you had to have lived there. You had to have been born within it, amidst the murky waters and decaying ruins. And if you ever left it, you took it with you. Just as she had. Just as Cormick had. Just as Bevil had. When you tried to leave it behind, it drove you insane. Like Lorne had been driven insane.

"I'll fetch the others," she said, turning back to the road where her companions waited patiently for her to return.

o - o - o - o - o

"I have a bad feeling about this," said Khelgar.

"You and me both," Kail muttered. Then she raised her voice. "Zhjaeve? The corruption doesn't feel as strong here as it did in West Harbor."

"You are right, Kalach-cha. This place has not yet fallen completely into shadow."

"But still," said Elanee, shivering though not from cold, "You can almost feel the shadows in the air. If you stay for too long it's like they start clutching at you, trying to drag you down."

Nobody replied. Speech seemed oddly out of place, here. The air was heavy and muted, as if something unseen was watching and waiting. It put Kail on edge, made her feel hunted. Still, they continued along the path, avoiding the gnarled tree branches that seemed to clutch at their clothes as they passed, stepping over the pools of rank water that formed in the middle of paths.

Between them, Elanee and Bishop seemed to be coping with navigating the paths, and Kail was content to leave them to it. Daeghun had never brought her to this area; always he took her east, deeper into the Mere, whenever he wanted to test her sense of direction.

"Whatever the Circle did," Elanee mused aloud, "they must have found a way to shield themselves from this spreading darkness. If we can find out how they've done it, then we can reach the Vale."

"Then let us find what we need to know and leave this place," said Ammon gruffly. Kail could tell that he didn't like being here. Perhaps he didn't like being under the shadow's eye any more than she did. Or perhaps he simply wanted to get back to what he considered more important tasks, such as an alliance with the dwarves and finding a way to penetrate the Claimed Lands entirely to reach the King of Shadows.

"Here's the gathering place, just up ahead," said Elanee, stopping and peering through the trees. "Now, hold on, something's happening, I can just make it out."

Kail stepped up beside Elanee, nudging Bishop aside with her elbow so she could see. There was movement, centred around a large tree. Animals, some of them huge beyond normal proportions, were approaching the tree. Then, as they neared, they shifted to elven forms. She was surprised; Elanee could no longer reliably shift between forms, and the bear-druid they had been forced to slay, Kaleil, had also been trapped in his animal form. As had the wolf-druid in Neverwinter. So why were _these_ druids able to shift freely?

"I feel more at peace with each passing day," one of the druids spoke to the others. "I know you sense it as well, Naevan. Will silence be your only answer?" Kail's ears pricked up at the name. Naevan was the name of the druid that Elanee had spoken to, at the Skymirror.

"Silence and contemplation is my only peace in this place. Do not forget that I am your captive, Vashne." said a disembodied voice. She could not tell where it came from, but a second later Elanee pointed towards the tall tree and mouthed 'Elder Naevan' to her. Kail nodded. Obviously, these druids had trapped Naevan in the tree.

"We keep you here because we believe in the Circle," said another druid. Elanee whispered '_Vashne_' to her. "In time you will see that we are right. And when the shadow has passed, you will feel one with the land again."

"This isn't the Mere anymore. You treat the shadow as if it were a passing mist. You fail to see how it now hangs upon you, upon this whole place."

"We are caretakers of this land, and we cannot abandon it."

"We're caretakers of a graveyard! Free me from this prison, and let's stop the decay from spreading."

During the Elders' discussion, Elanee had stepped forward, leaving the forest and approaching the Circle. With one of Khelgar's bad feelings clinging to her, she followed her friend, and gestured for everybody else to follow but keep their distance.

"Elders?" asked Elanee, her voice contrite. "Is it you? Elders, forgive me for not seeking you out sooner. I thought you have all died in the Claimed Lands. How did..."

"Who are the ones who follow you?" said the druid that Elanee had called 'Vashne'. His face was pale beneath his hood, and at this closer distance she could see that his cheeks were sallow, his skin pallid and his eyes dark and fervent as if possessed of a fever.

"My name is Kail Farlong," she said aloud, holding her hands up to show that they were empty. The Sword of Gith was tucked into her belt, its blade naked. It would not bear to be sheathed; she knew without even bothering to try. But she also knew that, sharp as it was, it would never cut her. She couldn't cut herself on it no matter how hard she tried; and she _had_ tried. It merely blunted itself at her touch.

"Elanee, who are they?" Vashne asked again.

"They are my allies... my friends. They helped me reach here."

"They have the stench of civilisation and war upon them. As do you."

"Our path took us to Neverwinter, and through many battles. But this is the one from West Harbor, Elders, the one I... the one I had been watching."

"The shard-bearer?" another druid hissed in anger. "You have brought the shard-bearer _here_?"

"She could never leave West Harbor and its people be," said another. "Which was the problem before, I believe."

"Your fascination with the shard-bearer meant that we were less aware of the changes coming to this land until they were upon us," said Vashne. "We are fortunate, this time, that the land itself has chosen to speak."

"There are many of you, and Elanee is just one," said Kail, feeling familiar flames of anger licking at her mind. "If your many eyes were too blind to see the shadow approaching, do not blame Elanee." How dare they blame her friend for their own blindness! How dare they accuse Elanee of being responsible for the Mere's downfall!

"How does the land 'speak'?" asked Zhjaeve, taking a step forward.

"Can you not feel it in the air?" said Vashne. "A great storm is coming. It will rage across this land and scour clean the corruption of Neverwinter, of Luskan, of all civilisation."

"The King of Shadows. So you know the threat," said Elanee.

"You think that you can give name to such a force? As if the winds were to care or think," said one druid.

"West Harbor was destroyed by this 'force'," said Kail, her anger rapidly growing. These people were clearly insane.

"Your 'home' was cleansed, as Neverwinter shall be," said Vashne. "Your people did not belong, preying at the edges of Merdelain like scavengers."

"Since when were roving shadows natural?" The words were spoken through clenched teeth; her right hand curled as she spoke, and it took all the willpower she possessed to prevent herself from drawing the Sword of Gith and striking the pathetic creature down where he stood.

"Shadows are a part of the cycle of life and death, just as we all are. We do not all have such narrow views of nature."

"We came for your help," she replied, trying one last time to reason with them. Making one last plea for them to save themselves.

"Who are you to ask anything of us? You carry within you the very symbol for your civilisation's capacity for destruction."

"Elders, this King of Shadows... it poses a threat to us all, not just cities and towns," said Elanee, her tone desperate.

"Have you ever seen this 'King of Shadows'?" asked Vashne.

"No," Elanee admitted, her voice uncertain.

"He has," said Kail, raising a hand to point at Ammon. But Vashne ignored her, directing his next question again at Elanee.

"Have you ever spoken with it?"

"No."

"He has," Kail said more firmly, once again pointing to the warlock. The druids simply weren't listening to her. The Sword of Gith whispered that this might be a good time to do something flashy, to _make_ them notice her, and she ran her hand soothingly over the blade, feeling energy crackling beneath her fingertips as her skin touched the smooth, cold surface.

"Then what is this 'King', other than a story used to explain forces greater than ourselves?"

"This is the Circle, Elanee?" she said, unable and unwilling to keep the contempt from her voice. "They are truly blind, here."

"Surely you do not all share this view?" Elanee pleaded. "I cannot be so removed from Merdelain as to not feel its pain even now."

"No child, you are not alone." It was the disembodied voice from the tree that now spoke, its voice calm and soothing. Immediately, Kail felt reassured by its presence, some of her anger fading as Elanee addressed it.

"Elder Naevan?"

"Elanee, this shadow is anything but natural. I don't know if the Mere, if Merdelain, can be saved, but I know that we cannot accept it. We must..."

"Perhaps I have misjudged your value, Naevan," said Vashne, cutting the voice off in mid-sentence.

"What have you done to him?" Kail asked, and on some level, she hoped it was something unpleasant. Not because she wished Naevan harm, but because it would make killing Vashne all the sweeter.

"For a druid of power, living within the folds of a tree is nothing," Vashne replied. "As the land changes, we must change with it, Elanee. Stop clinging to what the Mere was and accept it for what it is now. Your friends will never see as we do, but it is not too late for you. Come back with us, and help us weather this storm to its completion."

"Do you truly thing what is coming is for the best?" asked Elanee sadly.

"Listen to me," said Kail. She turned to address her friend, expelling the druids of the Circle from her conversation. "Vashne's right about one thing - the Mere's time has passed. You're more in touch with the land than they are. You hear it's pain, where they are deaf to it."

"But, they are they Circle. They have tended it for decades... centuries... always. Maybe they simply hear it clearer than I."

"They are the Circle, not the Mere. And you have seen what the King of Shadows can do to even the strongest of people."

"I... you're right," said Elanee, bowing her head in acceptance. "They're speaking madness."

"Then you are lost to us forever," said Vashne. "I am sorry, Elanee, but we have no choice. And you, shard-bearer, you have been allowed to spread your influence for far too long."

For the latter half of the conversation, Kail had been expecting battle. But she had not expected the speed at which it began. Several things happened all at once, and she didn't know which to react to first. Vines sprang up from the ground, constricting around Khelgar and Casavir, restricting their movement. Lightning began to fall from the sky, and almost all of her companions rushed to the nearby tree-line to save themselves from being electrocuted. As they reached the trees, animals sprang forth, cutting off their escape. Some of the druids, meanwhile, had shifted into their animal forms, whilst others were casting spells.

One of them caught Zhjaeve in some sort of holding spell, and the cleric was rendered motionless in mid-step. Another called a plague of biting insects to harass Qara and Sand, making it almost impossible for them to get off any spells. Ammon and Grobnar were fighting in hand-to-hand combat with some of the forest animals, while Bishop and Neeshka tried desperately to aim for vital areas of anything that drew too close. Meanwhile, Casavir and Khelgar began choking as the vines constricted around their throats, trying to cut off their air supply. Sent into some sort of rage, Elanee began trying to shift into the form of a bear. Parts of her shifted faster than others, while some parts shifted from elf to bear and back again, making for gruesome watching. When she finally had control, and became a bear, she rushed towards the nearest Circle druid, rising up onto her hind legs and bringing the weight of her body down to crush the man. But instead of choosing her next target, she began tossing the man's bloodied body from paw to paw, like a cat playing with a dead mouse.

All of this happened in the time it took Kail to draw the Sword of Gith and choose her target. She closed on a druid, slashing at the woman, who stepped back and struck with her own stave. It shattered easily on the Sword, and Kail ran the woman through, turning on the spot and withdrawing the blade, letting her own momentum carry her through to her next opponent.

As she downed him, she turned to survey the battle. Though Neeshka and Bishop had made it to the trees with Ammon, where their bows could be more effectively employed, Grobnar was lying still on the ground, a pack of wolves passing him by to chase the three as they retreated to a safer distance. Zhjaeve was still held in some sort of spell, and Khelgar and Casavir were still trapped under an increasingly large amount of thorny vines. Qara and Sand managed to get a couple of missile spells off, which took down one of the druids, but soon they were back to being bitten again, unable to stay still enough to work their magic. And Elanee was still playing with a corpse that was now nothing but rags of skin and sinew. There were still several druids and their animal friends left.

Kail felt something wrap around her leg, and looked down, but too late. One of the vines had found her, and it constricted immediately around her, pulled her leg out from beneath her. She fell backwards, striking her head on the ground, and her vision blurred.

"Your taint ends here, shard-bearer," snarled Vashne. He was standing above her, a wickedly sharp spear held above his head as he prepared to plunge it into her chest, into the Heart of the Sword. There was a fervent, maddened light in his eyes once more as he brought the spear down with all of his strength.

It never reached her. Karnwyr threw himself between Kail and the spear, the weapon piercing his side as he collided with Vashne. He yelped in pain, and the two of them crashed to the floor.

Fighting for breath and fighting against nausea, Kail grasped the Sword in her hand. It felt natural, like it belonged there. Sitting up, she brought the weapon down in a swift arc, slicing cleanly through the vine that held her leg. First Grobnar, now Karnwyr... how many of her friends would fall whilst she whirled the blade, trying to be everywhere at once? She _could_ be everywhere at once. She had done it before, and she would do it again. She would not let her friends die.

She closed her eyes and reached out with her mind for the Sword, breaking apart the bonds of her will that held the blade together.

o - o - o - o - o

From his vantage point in the forest, Bishop saw an explosion of light centre round Kail. At first he thought she was the victim of a druid spell; then he spotted the shards of razor-sharp glittering metal that began swirling around her, as a wind sprung from nowhere to whip at her hair and her clothes. She merely stood there, both hands on the hilt of the Sword, her eyes closed and an expression of intense concentration on her face.

The shards of metal flashed silver as they sought out targets; they sliced through the flesh of the druids, tearing through skin, cartilage and bone with ease. When a druid fell from a dozen bleeding shard wounds, his animal companion fell with him, until at last there were no druids left, and the last of the charmed forest animals were slaughtered by Neeshka and Ammon, the only two apart from him who were in any condition to fight.

Then, as swiftly as it started, the display of flashing metal stopped, the shards of the sword racing back to their owner. For a moment he thought she was fine; there was a light smile on her face, and she seemed almost pleased with herself. The next instant that smile turned to an expression of pain, and then her face went blank. She didn't so much as fall majestically to the floor as crumple, her legs giving way beneath her.

Even before all the animals had been slain, he rushed out from his hiding place towards the form of the still woman. Movement hurt him; he had felt Karnwyr's injury as if it was his own, though almost as soon as the wolf had taken it he had withdrawn Bishop's ability to sense him. He wanted to spare the part of him that walked on two-legs the pain of dying... again.

Bishop was torn. He wanted to be beside Karnwyr. But he wanted to be beside Kail. The decision was taken from him. _Go to Alpha,_ Karnwyr conveyed, before breaking the mental bond between them once more.

His decision made for him, he crouched down beside Kail, afraid to touch her, afraid not to. Pushing his fear aside, he recalled old training rarely used but never completely forgotten. He checked for a pulse. It was there, but weakening. He checked for breath, with the same result. Then he noticed a purple bruise swelling beneath the skin on her chest. It was happening again, just like Zhjaeve had said. The shard beside her heart had moved; she was bleeding inside.

He looked around for help. Elanee was attacking once more, rearing up before an elf who appeared to step out of a tree. Zhjaeve was still bound by whatever spell held her. Casavir was still trapped inside the vines, though making slow progress in freeing himself. Neeshka and Ammon were still being harassed by the remnants of the charmed animals. Grobnar was still lying on the ground, his small body still. Sand and Qara were still being pursued by a swarm of biting insects. And he himself had no healing potions. There was nothing he could do but watch the woman on the floor slowly slip away, feel her pulse weaken with every beat. When she died, he would be free of her, but he hadn't wanted it to be like this.

"Let me see her," said a calm voice above him. He raised his head and found himself looking up into elven eyes. It was the man who had stepped out of the tree. But hadn't Elanee been just about to crush him? He risked a look at the druidess, saw her slumped, still in bear form, in the middle of the clearing. Then he dismissed her from his thoughts; he'd always said she was useless, and now she'd just proved it.

"It's the shard in her chest," he explained, not sure why he should trust the elf with an explanation of her condition, but knowing there was nothing else he could do.

"Yes, it has moved and pierced her heart." The blue light of healing magic suddenly surrounded the elf, and he laid his hands on Kail's chest, suffusing her with warm energy. She took a deep breath, and for a moment he thought that she would open her eyes. If she'd simply open her eyes and smile at him, he'd know that she would be okay. The healing glow lasted for a full minute, then it subsided. "I have healed the damage that was done, though I have kept her asleep. Her body needs time to heal itself. And now I shall see to your friend. It is the least I can do, after he saved the shard-bearer's life."

"Wait, what should I do with her?" he called as the man stepped to Karnwyr's side.

"Just keep her warm and still," said the elf.

He had no way of keeping her warm; his pack was back in the trees, where he had dropped it so that he could move more easily. And he was wearing no cloak that he could drape over her. He couldn't keep her warm, but he could keep her still. Gently, he lifted her head, sliding his knee beneath it and resting his fingers on her neck, along her carotid artery.

As order was slowly restored to the clearing, as the elven man healed Karnwyr and Grobnar, and then turned his attention to Elanee, as Ammon cut Khelgar and Casavir free of their prison of vines, as Sand and Qara used ointment to tend their painfully swollen bites, as Neeshka helped Zhjaeve find somewhere to sit and regain her senses, Bishop did nothing. He merely sat there, in the shadow-cursed Mere, feeling Kail's pulse growing stronger.


	86. On Wings of Death

_86. On Wings of Death_

The air in the Captain's suite was cold as Kail regained consciousness. For a moment she thought that it was just another regular day, and when she looked out of the window and saw that it was dark, she suspected she had overslept. Then her memories came flooding back to her... the Mere, the druid Circle, Elanee, the Sword, Grobnar and Karnwyr.

"What happened?" she asked, sitting up. There would be someone in the room with her; there was always somebody waiting for her, at times like these.

"Don't you remember?" Neeshka asked. Turning her head, Kail noticed her friend sitting in one of the chairs beside the bed. Again, she looked tired, not to mention cold. She had wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, but still shivered occasionally.

"I meant what happened after I... passed out?" she elaborated.

"Oh, that. Well, do you remember the guy in the tree? Nebbin?"

"Naevan."

"Yeah, him. Well, after you'd killed all the druids, he was free. He put Elanee to sleep before she could squash everyone, then healed you. Then he healed Grobnar and Karnwyr, then Elanee."

"How is Elanee, now? How is everyone?" she asked, closing her eyes. She should have acted sooner. She should have forced the Sword apart to attack her enemies as soon as the battle started. If she hadn't left it so late, Grobnar and Karnwyr wouldn't have been injured. Khelgar and Casavir could have been freed faster.

"Elanee's taking it pretty hard. I don't know what's worse for her, the fact that her Circle is gone for good after she thought she might get them back, or the fact that she lost control of herself and couldn't do anything in the fight. Everybody else is okay... Grobnar was winded for a while but he's fine now."

"What happened to Naevan? Did he come back with us? To help us?"

"No. He left. He wanted to see if there was anything left of the Mere to save. I think, like Elanee, the loss of the Circle was just too much for him. Nevalle was a little disappointed, but he said that they'd thought all along that the Circle was gone, so it wasn't like a new loss. Your... ah... father stopped by, for a while. He just sat with you, in silence. At least, I couldn't hear him talking, through the door."

"He's not my father," she said, a bitter taste in her mouth as she remembered their argument. "I don't have a father."

"Um... okay..."

"Where is my Sword?" It suddenly occurred to her that something was missing, and she knew instantly what it was.

"Which one?" asked Neeshka, for some reason not willing to meet her eyes.

"The Sword of Gith."

"Oh, that. Ammon carried it back, after the battle. He and Zhjaeve are looking after it right now."

"Where are they?"

"In the tavern. But I don't think you should go there yet. You're still weak and... stuff."

"I'm fine," she said, throwing back the covers and stepping, only a little unsteadily, behind the wooden screen to dress. "Besides, I could really go for one of Sal's meals right about now. I never got my breakfast the other day... maybe he'll make me some dinner"

When she had dressed, they left the room. The golem was still guarding her door, and she gave it a pat on its armoured shoulder. Could Grobnar be right? Did the golem actually have some sort of life, and intelligence? If so, what did it think about being set to constantly guard her room? Did it consider such menial tasks beneath it and suffer the indignity of guard-duty in silence, or was it happy to be given any task at all?

As they passed through the Keep, Neeshka seemed to grow more agitated. _Wouldn't Kail prefer to have a nice soak in a hot bath?_ the tiefling had suggested. _Or maybe we could do a little sparring. We haven't done that in a while, and the Sword will still be there in the morning._ As the suggestions kept coming, Kail grew more and more suspicious. It was almost as if Neeshka didn't **want** her to retrieve her sword.

Stepping outside the Keep, Kail inhaled deeply, and noted clouds peeping over the horizon, turning the black sky a shade of grey.

"Snow's coming," she mused aloud.

"Yeah, Elanee said that too, on our way back here. She doesn't think it will hit before tomorrow, though."

"Snow or not, I have to get to Port Llast. I can't afford to sit around waiting because of bad weather anymore. I'm sure the King of Shadows won't be hindered by it."

"Well, it's not like the undead feel the cold or get sick. We do. His armies can march tirelessly. Ours need to eat and sleep."

"Since when did you become the voice of pessimism?" she asked.

"I suppose you're right. I mean, I should keep my hopes up. Sure, the King of Shadows has a tireless unfeeling army that outnumbers us greatly, but that's no reason to get down, right?" Neeshka grinned.

"That's the spirit. What's happening over there?" She pointed towards part of the wall, where several people were carrying boxes in and out of a newly painted door.

"That's the new wizard tower. Veedle finished it while we were away, and Startear's started moving his stuff in. Sand talked to him yesterday and apparently he's willing to give you full access to his stock and merchandise... for a modest price, of course."

"Of course. I suppose I'll go and see him at some point. For now, I just want to get my Sword and get some hot food inside my stomach."

She started on the short path to the tavern, and could all but _feel_ Neeshka dragging her feet in apprehension. What in Shaundakul's name had gotten into the tiefling? Why was she so reticent? What was she afraid of. Unless... was the Sword broken again? Had she irreparably damaged it by causing the shards to break apart into a storm of silver metal? She picked up her pace and entered the tavern.

Everybody was there; Qara sitting in a corner, reading a book, Elanee and Casavir at a table, Khelgar at the bar with, surprisingly, Daeghun and Bevil beside him, Sal behind the bar itself, Bishop in front of the fire with Karnwyr, Grobnar tinkering with something mechanical as Sand watched on, an amused expression painting his face. And there, standing beside the far wall, were Zhjaeve and Ammon. In front of them, on the wall itself, was the Sword of Gith. Strange... had they put it up there to be displayed, so that everybody could see it? They had to know that she would never let it remain there. She wanted it by her side at all times. It was a part of her now.

As she approached, she saw that the Sword was held in place not by nails and a plaque, but by a shining barrier, like a force shield of sorts. She could not hear the Sword speaking to her anymore, as it had since the moment she had reforged it. In her chest, the shard of metal was cold and still. What had they _done_? Fighting down growing pangs of anxiety that fluttered in her stomach like butterflies, she stepped towards Zhjaeve and waited for the githzerai to turn around.

"I've come for my Sword," she said.

"Know that you cannot have it at this time, Kalach-cha," said Zhjaeve. In her eyes was regret, but also determination. The same determination she showed when she spoke of defeating the Reavers and the King of Shadows. The same determination she showed when she talked of Zerthimon and her people.

"Why not?" she asked, the butterflies in her stomach growing, trying to become a hurricane of panic.

"You have used the Sword dangerously and irresponsibly, with no care for your own safety, after I asked you not to."

"But I had to. People were getting hurt. What did you expect me to do?"

"You should have fled, Kalach-cha. As soon as the fight started to go wrong, you should have fled, and returned here to safety."

"_Fled_?" She knew that the word came out as something between a growl and a hiss. She knew that the tavern had fallen silent as everybody watched and listened. But she didn't care. Anger grew inside her as she spoke the word in her mind, over and over again. _Fled. Fled. Fled. Fled. FLED?_ "You can't ask me to leave a fight when my friends are in trouble. I won't do it. Never."

"Then you cannot have the Sword."

"So... you're just going to keep it here, sitting in this force-field until the King of Shadows is upon us? Then you'll give it to me and let me sacrifice myself with it?" Zhjaeve did not reply, but sorrow haunted her pale eyes. "I _need_ the Sword. I can't jump off a tower if my wings are clipped. I need to know the Sword, and it needs to know me. I need to practice with it. Otherwise, when the King of Shadows gets here, I'll fail. And you _know_ that, Zhjaeve. Why are you doing this? The Sword is mine. Give it to me."

"Under the following conditions may you have the Sword," said Zhjaeve, her voice firm. "You may not carry it inside the Keep, for this is the one place you will never need it. You must promise to never use the Sword as you did, ever again. When you do carry it away from here, you may only do so with Casavir or I by your side. Or Elanee, when she is recovered."

"I can't accept those restrictions."

"Then the Sword remains here."

Kail hissed with anger and stepped past Zhjaeve. She reached for the Sword, but her hand encountered the shimmering barrier. It was like trying to reach through a brick wall. No matter how hard she tried, she could not break through it. She bent her thoughts towards the barrier, trying to break it through a sheer act of will alone, but it did not give by even an inch. As she stood there, she knew what the others must be thinking. They thought she was crazy. They saw her struggle and saw her failing. They saw her making a fool of herself, desperately trying to reach through the barrier, and they saw her weakness. Knowing that they were watching, her anger grew, raging inside her like an inferno.

"You will not get past the barrier," said Ammon, speaking for the first time. "We have woven two protective spells, divine and infernal, into a cage where time does not pass. Nothing can affect the space inside the barrier, and it cannot be dismissed."

"You're jealous," said Kail, removing her hand from the barrier and turning to face Jerro. Her hands flexed by her side; she wanted to wrap them around his neck and squeeze until he passed out. _Then_ she could reclaim her Sword. But even through her anger, she knew that the others would stop her. "You're jealous that you lost the Sword and now it's mine. You want it for yourself. You can't stand that somebody else is wielding it, making sacrifices in your place. But you know the Sword won't let you carry it anymore. You know it will be useless in your hands. So if you can't have it, I can't have it either."

"You are behaving like a child."

"And you are behaving like an insane old man. How do you expect me to survive without a weapon?"

"You will have to make do with other weapons, until you are ready for the Sword."

"Fine," she snapped, narrowing her eyes at the warlock. "I'll get another weapon."

She turned and stormed from the room, anger heating her cheeks, ignoring the stares of her friends. Yes, she would get another weapon, and they would regret the day they took the Sword of Gith from her. She would take the Sword back, eventually; she wasn't going to beg for it like some dog begging for scraps of food. No, she would take it back herself. She just had to bide her time.

"Kail, wait!" called Neeshka, following her out into the cold night air.

She stopped, turned, and glared at the tiefling.

"Get my Sword," she growled through clenched teeth.

"I can't..."

"Then I have nothing to say to you."

She turned back to the path and entered the Keep, her insides boiling as she walked the familiar corridors. How dare they do this to her! She had bled to retrieve the shards. Zhjaeve had told her that she _needed_ the Sword to defeat the King of Shadows. And now that she had reforged it, they had taken it away from her. They probably hadn't wanted her to keep it in the first place. They wanted someone else to wield it. They thought _they_ could control it, and defeat the King of Shadows themselves. They wanted her to _fail_.

In her Suite, she bolted the door, then got to work building and starting a fire in the hearth. Until now, she wanted the room cold, to remind her of everybody she had lost. But the cold wasn't sufficient anymore. Her mind burnt with anger, her stomach churning with rage, and she wanted to room to reflect the heat she felt inside. She wanted this place to be an inferno. She piled as much wood onto the fire as it could take, then went to one of her drawers and took out two books, a piece of paper, a quill and an ink-bottle.

She took the books to the bearskin rug in front of her fire, laying down on her stomach and opening the books to the pages she had marked. Then she began scribbling down a list, copying it from the largest book to the paper, her mind sizzling as her pen scratched the paper.

_They think that I'm weak. They think they can keep my Sword from me. But I'll show them how wrong they are. I'll show them all._

o - o - o - o - o

The library was quiet at this late hour. Kail strode down the corridors, searching the rows of bookshelves for the man she knew would be here. She eventually found him, sitting at a desk, poring over a book. When she approached, his keen elven hearing picked up the sound of her footsteps. He turned his head, jumping in fright when he saw her. He looked like he wanted to back away, his hands nervously smoothing down the pages of book in front of him.

"I need these," she said, handing him the paper. He took it cautiously, his eyes scanning the list.

"Some of these ingredients are quite dangerous," he said apprehensively. "One or two are capable of producing powerful hal..."

"I know what they can do," she said, cutting him off. Did he think she didn't know what they were for? The book had been quite specific about them. "Get them for me."

"Might I ask what you intend to do with them?"

"No."

"If you're trying to poison somebody..."

"I'm not."

"I see. Well, I'll get them for you, but I won't have them until morning. I'll need to speak to Uncus, for some of them."

"Fine," she said, turning. She could wait until morning.

"Ah, Kail," he called, waiting for her to stop and turn before continuing. "About your Sword..."

"Get it back for me."

"I can't. I've already tried. Whatever they've done... it's like they've woven their magic together in a way I've never seen before."

"Then we have nothing to discuss. I'll return in the morning for my items."

She left before he could say another word. He would try to comfort her, she knew. But she didn't want to be comforted. She _wanted_ to be angry. There was strength, in anger. There was strength in the adrenaline that coursed through her veins.

She returned to her room but did not sleep. If she slept now, the anger would fade. She would begin to doubt herself, and question the wisdom of her plan. So instead, she turned to the book, reading a section of pages over and over again, familiarising herself with their contents. By morning she would know them like the back of her hand. Then she could begin.

o - o - o - o - o

Because she had not been to bed, she had no need to dress. She had remained in her clothes the whole night, reading the book in front of the roaring fire. There had been knocks on her door, and muffled voices calling out to her; Neeshka and Elanee, mostly, though Casavir tried once. At their first knocks she had simply called out 'Get my Sword,', then ignored their pleas until they went away. Eventually the knocking had stopped, and she had been left in the peace she desired.

Now, she rose from the bearskin rug and stretched. The anger inside her was still there, but it was now simmering instead of boiling. She could keep this level of anger going for a _long_ time, and simply thinking of the Sword, caged in the tavern, out of her grasp, was enough to stoke the fires inside her if necessary.

She went to her wardrobe and took out a satchel. Her backpack would be unnecessary. She knew where she was going. She would need no camping equipment, would take no food with her. All she needed was the clothes on her back, the book, and the ingredients. The book went into the satchel, and she left her room, making her way to the library.

Sand looked weary this morning. His normally immaculate hair was tousled, and she suspected he had skipped reverie. She allowed herself to feel no guilt over that; after all, he had been the one to suggest she continue her studies.

"The ingredients?" she asked, holding out her hand.

"Is there any way I can talk you out of whatever it is you're planning to do with some of these highly dangerous substances?" he asked.

"Yes. Get my Sword."

"I thought so." He handed her a pouch, and she looked inside. There were other bags within it, smaller, containing portions of everything she had asked for.

She put the pouch inside the satchel and left the library. Now that she had everything she needed, she could not tarry. She needed to make one last stop, give Zhjaeve and Ammon one last chance to return her stolen property, then she would go.

There were less people inside the tavern this morning. Qara was gone, as were Daeghun and Bevil. Sand was, obviously, still in the library. But everybody else was there, including Casavir and a very tired looking Elanee. Pretending that they weren't co-conspirators, Zhjaeve and Ammon were seated at different tables, apparently ignoring each other. But the barrier around the Sword was still shimmering, still strong. It made Kail's heart ache to see the weapon hanging in mid-air.

"Give me my Sword," she said, standing before Zhjaeve.

"Have you changed your mind about agreeing to the terms I set out for you, Kalach-cha?"

"No."

"Know that I cannot give you the Sword."

She whirled away, back towards the door, and heard several people follow. She ignored them as she left the tavern and took the path down to the gate.

"Wait!" Neeshka called. "Where are you going?"

"Out."

"I'll come with you."

"No. I'm going alone."

"But... it's dangerous out there!"

"If I stay, it will be dangerous in here."

"Kail," said Elanee softly, "there is a snow-storm coming. Please, do not go out there now. Wait until it has passed."

"No," she said, marching inexorably towards the walls. Down by her legs, Karnwyr whined, keeping pace. "Don't think I don't know whose eyes you are," she told the wolf.

When she reached the gate, Nevalle was there, waiting for her. She stopped two paces away from him, simply looking at him for a moment. Nasher had sent him here to help her, or so he claimed. Now it was time to see just how far Nevalle's loyalty went, just what orders he would follow.

"I'm going out. Alone," she said, matter of factly. "If anybody tries to follow me... arrest them."

He stared at her for a full minute, and she stared back as he took his measure of her. Then he nodded.

"Very well, Captain."

She ordered the Greycloaks to raise the gate, then slipped out as Nevalle ordered everybody else to stay back. When the gate closed again, and she heard no footsteps following her, she let out a deep breath. Maybe they thought they would never see her again. Maybe they thought she would run off and never return. But she couldn't do that. The Sword was still back there, waiting for her to rescue it from its prison. And more; she had promised herself, promised the people of West Harbor, that she would see the King of Shadows destroyed. She would go out fighting, not running.

Turning her head to the nearby hills, she set out across the farm lands, and the clouds that had last night been on the horizon slowly began to overtake her, bringing with them a scattering of snow. She ignored it. Snow was no longer important. Only one thing was.

o - o - o - o - o

_Am I crazy_? she wondered as she held her satchel tight against her thigh. _Yes, I'm crazy. But I __**know**__ I'm crazy. That mean's I'm the good kind of crazy. The sane kind of crazy. If I was the insane kind of crazy I'd be running around the realms calling myself the new God of Murder and slaughtering people in their beds. Now that __**would**__ be crazy._

She opened her eyes slightly, peering through her lashes at her surroundings. Cold air immediately rushed into her eyes; the blizzard had hit fast and hard. Before she knew it she was upto her ankles in snow, then upto her calves in it. She knew where she was going, though. She had seen the cave when she had gone on patrol of the lands with Nevalle and the Greycloaks. It was barely visible from the road, and something had preventing her from pointing it out to the others. Now she was glad that she hadn't. This way, they wouldn't know where she was going. Let them worry. Let them blame themselves for her leaving. They deserved it.

When she finally reached the cave, the snow was up to her knees. She refused to shiver as she stepped inside the wide cleft in the rock, not caring if this was an animal den. Her only weapon was the skinning knife Bishop had given her, but she was not afraid to use it if necessary.

It turned out that the cave was not inhabited, though it had obviously been used as a den at some point in the past. She found a nest of dead leaves and dry branches at the back of it, and suspected a bear or wolves had once used this place to rear their cubs. Whatever had lived here, there was no scat and no traces, so the cave had obviously been abandoned for some time.

She wasted no time in gathering the leaves and branches and starting a fire. Not because she was cold, but because it was necessary for her task. By the time the fire was blazing merrily, in no danger of dying down, she had lain the book out on the floor and all the ingredients from the pouch beside it. An empty flask joined them, along with her water skin. Then, she was ready to begin.

She took one of the herb pouches and reached inside, taking a pinch of the dried substance that it held. This she threw onto the fire, inhaling deeply of the smoke it threw up. This herb would cleanse her body, ready it for the ritual.

As she worked on the rest of the herbs, putting small pinches into the empty flask, she cast her mind back over the pages she had read the night before. It was something she had come across some time ago, during her initial study of the book, but she hadn't given it much thought at the time.

The book that Sand had given her chronicled the attempts of several different dragon disciples as they learnt to embrace and accept their powers. To some it came as naturally as breathing, but others had to fight for control. This ritual was something they had all gone through; it conveyed power and control to them, allowing them to master their draconic blood. It was part ritual, part vision-quest. That was where the herbs came in. There was a particular concoction she as required to create and drink, in order to bring the visions. As far as she could tell, the individual undergoing the ritual received visions of their draconic ancestor, briefly becoming one with the being whether it was still alive or long dead. This allowed them to understand what they were, and control their abilities.

_To understand a thing, you must be come a thing._ Wasn't that what Lucas said, after all? And since she had been cut off from her most powerful weapon, she needed to find another. What was more powerful than a dragon? Well, other than the King of Shadows, that is. And she had _no_ desire to become him. But it was past time for her to begin embracing her... other... abilities. She did not know what her Bhaalspawn blood could do for her, and she was reluctant to find out. But the trials of the dragon disciples were well-recorded, and she knew what she could expect. There was no danger, in this.

o - o - o - o - o

When the potion had been prepared, diluted with water as described by the book, she took the remaining herbs in one unopened pouch and threw them onto the fire, taking deep breaths. She didn't know why one of the hallucinogenic herbs had to be burnt and inhaled while the other was mixed into the concoction and imbibed, but the book was quite clear on this, and she was not inclined to question it.

The smoke began to affect her mind almost instantly. Inhaled, the chemicals released by the burning plant were absorbed into her body far faster than the ones which would be consumed. This was the lesser of the hallucinogens, used to open her mind, to ready her body for one more powerful.

She drank the contents of the flask in three long gulps, then put it back inside her satchel. Then she sat cross-legged in front of the fire, staring into the flames.

Her auditory sense was the first one affected. As she sat there, watching the flames, she heard laughter, shrill, high-pitched voices giggling at her. They came from the fire itself, each flame laughing with a different voice. But they weren't mocking her, they were simply happy to be alive, however briefly, so she laughed with them.

When the more powerful drug that she had consumed began to work, the hallucinations began to grow in their intensity. The fire spread across the bare earth, cutting off the exit of the cave. She watched in rapt fascination as figures stepped out of the fire and began dancing across the floor. They danced to her, and lifted her up by her arms with hands made of flame that did not burn. They whirled her around, encouraging her to dance with them, and at the same time the small flames in the fire sang songs and laughed.

The fiery figures reached their hands to her body, lifting her up above their heads. She lay there, her arms and legs stretched out, supported by the fires beneath her, and she closed her eyes as a feeling of weightlessness encompassed her. A smile played across her face as she realised she was floating in the air.

In the next instant, everything changed. She was no longer floating, carried by the flames around her cave; she was in the sky, falling. The flames were gone and the cold air streamed around her as she fell through it. She tried to call out, to scream, but she couldn't; whatever she had taken with the hallucinogenic drug prevented her from using her voice. All she could do was watch in terror as the ground approached her at rapid speed.

At the last instant she spread wings she never even knew she had. An updraft of air caught her, carrying her along with it. With a flap of her powerful wings she gained instant height, gliding on thermals, layers of warm air that allowed her to soar effortlessly despite her bulk.

She was the ruler of the sky. She tolerated other creatures in it; birds and bats and their likes, because they were so far beneath her that she usually did not deign to notice them. And why should she? She was one of the largest, most powerful creatures ever to grace the skies of Faerûn. On the ground she was clumsy, awkward in comparison to the grace she displayed whilst airborne.

Beneath her, on ground far below, she spied a small farming community. Sheep and cattle grazed in fields, completely unaware of the silent death that stalked from above. She banked, cutting through the layers of alternating warm and cold air currents, dropping her altitude as she circled around one farmstead. So fast was her descent, so perfect was her approach, that she wasn't seen or heard coming. She swooped from the sky, stretching her hind legs down to grasp one of the fat cows that would never graze again. Gripping it, she snapped its spine, cutting off its desperate low of panic as she flapped her wings, climbing once again into the sky. The weight of the cow was barely even noticeable to her, so insignificant was it. And, though it took many cows to sate her appetite, once she had fed she could then go without food again for many weeks and even months. She could lie in her den, digesting her food, sleeping and dreaming of the skies.

As she passed over a forest, something dared shoot at her. Tiny, insignificant arrows made of wood were fired into the air, bouncing harmlessly off her armoured belly. They were no threat to her, but they enraged her. Who would _dare_ to fire _anything_ at a queen of the skies? Who would _dare_ trying to frighten her off? These mortals were pathetic. They were worse than cattle; at least cattle had a use.

She decided then and there to teach them a lesson. Turning, she dipped down again, closer to the trees. She made a pass over where the arrows had originated, and lashed out with her tail, striking the tops of the trees, breaking some of their thick trunks. They toppled over, and there were cries of panic as people were crushed beneath them. But she could not stop there. She would teach these insects a lesson. Their defiance would be their undoing, and they would prove a useful example to other mortals who thought they could do the same.

As she passed again, she used her most powerful weapon at her disposal; and she had many. Her entire body was a weapon, every inch of it built for killing. Now she employed her fiery breath, coating the tops of the trees in dragon-fire that would burn hotter than anything except the fire of a volcano. Some were turned instantly to ash, whilst others fell, spreading the fire to their neighbours, raining down burning vegetation upon the foolish mortals beneath them.

Satisfied that these people would never again fire at a dragon, should they even survive the carnage she had wrought, she flapped her great wings and soared to great heights once more. Some distance away was her den; a cavern carved in the side of a mountain by her own steely claws. There she was safe from everything except other dragons, and she doubted that any would be foolish enough to confront her in her own den.

She was a queen of the sky, and she ruled her lands completely.

o - o - o - o - o

When Kail opened her eyes once more, she realised that she was in the forest. Around her, the trees burnt; or they tried to. The snow fought them, each element battling for dominance.

Part of her mind was still floating in dragon-form, high in the skies. Now she _knew_ what real power meant. She knew what it was to be so big, so strong, so powerful, that nothing could stand against you. She had tasted the freedom of the skies and the winds, and she knew that she would never again be caged. No matter what happened to her physical body, her mind could always soar freely above the world.

The fire around her, she realised, was dragon-fire. She had done this. She had set fire to the trees during her hallucination. But she could control it now. She could make it blaze strongly -- and here she exerted her mind, causing the fire around her to flare up, to melt the snow around it -- or she could cause it to die down. She reached out again with her mind, willing the flames to die away.

No longer would she be afraid of her power. No longer would she hide from it. For she was a queen of the sky, and hiding was beneath her.

o - o - o - o - o

As dawn broke the next day, she saw Crossroad Keep on the plain beneath her. She had seen many such places from the sky, long ago, and this one was no different. It was a place of stone and mortar, but it would not last. The forces of nature would eventually overcome it, as they overcame everything mortals built. Mortals, who thought that they were so strong, so unique... how wrong they were.

She was aware of her surroundings as she started on the path back to the Keep, but with a cold arrogance she realised that what was around her was beneath her. This was just a forest. At worst it held beasts and bandits. Nothing that could harm one such as she, who had power and knew how to use it. Though she no longer possessed the form of a dragon, she knew what it was to _be_ a dragon.

When she arrived at the gate, she did not remember any of her journey back. She knew that she had walked, and she knew that time had passed, but what were such things to dragons and their kin? Time meant nothing to her. It was ephemeral, meaningless.

She passed beneath the gate and went to the tavern. Stepping inside, she looked around. She knew all the people within it. She knew their names, what they were, who they were. But they were so weak, so small and alone even when they thought they were together, that she could only pity them. She left without staying, and returned to the Keep.

More time passed. In her office she held meetings with Kana, Nevalle and Aldanon. She knew that she spoke, but she was not concentrating on her own words. Her mind was still soaring high and free, wrapped in a protective blanket that kept out the things that were now beneath her notice. She gave orders that seemed fitting and nodded in all the right places. No doubt to the others she looked bored, but they would never comprehend the vastness of her experience. There were chained to their bodies, chained to the ground, and they would never know anything other than the captivity of frail flesh and bone. They would never fly free, as she had.

After the meeting, she went to the kitchen and ate. There was stew and fresh bread, warm vegetables and slices of honey-roasted ham. It all tasted bland to her. It simply could not compare to the taste of fresh meat, the blood still warm. She could remember clearly how wonderful it tasted to take that first bite into a new kill. Cooked food paled in comparison.

Night fell, and the snow stopped. She spent some time looking out of the window in her suite, remembering what it was like to soar to heights that even the eagles could not reach. With a smile, she closed the curtains and changed into her nightshirt. It was time to sleep, and in sleeping she would dream of flying. She would dream of ruling the skies once more, with nothing capable of stopping her.

o - o - o - o - o

A small sound woke Kail from her dream of gleefully terrorising villages. She opened her eyes and felt her pupils dilate as they tried to absorb any tiny amount of light present in the room. For a few moments she merely lay there, listening for what had made the sound. Then she heard something in the corner of the room... it sounded like somebody trying to be quiet.

Sitting up, she stared at the corner, trying to determine the source of the noise. She saw one curtain move slightly as somebody brushed past it, and she threw back the quilts of her bed, silently putting her feet on the floor. The cold night air chilled her body, but she ignored it, willing her body to cease shivering as she stepped cautiously forward.

"Bishop, is that you?" she asked, and she sensed that whoever was moving had stopped. "What are you doing in here?" There was no reply. "If you're wondering about the fire, it was lit earlier, but it's obviously gone out. Not that I have to explain anything to you. In fact, you can get out right now, and if you say anything about this to Neeshka I... I'll..."

She trailed off, unable to think of a threat decent enough to utter. She stepped forward again, and knew that she was within arm's reach of him. Why was he being so damn quiet? If he thought that she would think he wasn't really there just because he was keeping silent, he had another thing coming.

She reached out towards the figure that she knew was there, standing beside her window. But before her fingers could connect, she felt strong arms encompass her from behind, holding her arms down to her side. There was a sharp pain in her neck, like needles stabbing her, and then she began to feel light-headed. Her mind registered a noise, like somebody drinking, but she couldn't form thoughts or force her body to move. An instant later the feeling of needles in her neck ceased.

"Her blood is strong and sweet," said a woman's voice behind her ear. "Come, try it."

The curtain was pushed aside, the moonlight revealing a tall, pale-skinned man. His eyes were predatory and cold, and he watched her hungrily as he stepped forward. She wanted to struggle but her body was held still by the woman. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand was clamped over it, cutting off her attempts to shout for help.

She could do nothing as the deathly pale stranger placed his cold hands on her shoulders and bent down, bringing his lips to the other side of her neck. There was the feeling of needles again, and then the woman, too, resumed feeding. All of the rage she had been feeling, all of the anger and strength, fled from her body. It was replaced with fear, stark terror like she had never felt before. In her mind she screamed and battered against herself, screaming mentally because she couldn't scream physically. Shadows began dancing around the edge of her vision as the moonlight began to dim, and tears spilled from her eyes, trickling warmth down her cold cheeks. Nobody could hear her. Nobody was coming. But she still she cried out with her mind, screaming until she fell into darkness.


	87. Running with Wolves

_87. Running with Wolves_

It was late and freezing cold as Bishop made his way from the tavern to the Keep. He had stayed there for as long as he possibly could, because the mood inside it was slightly less depressive than the dark mood that had settled over all within the Keep itself. Plus, it was warmer, and it had ale.

Since returning from her journey alone into the forest, Kail seemed an entirely different person, and he wasn't sure that he liked the change. It had been his goal, when he had first started travelling with her, to push her over the edge, to break through the mask that she showed to the world and unleash whatever was caged inside. Now, he suspected what was caged inside was trying to get out.

He had been expecting it to happen in one brief, violent explosion, one short period of murderous fury and energy before it overwhelmed and exhausted her. But that hadn't happened. Instead, the beast within her wasn't trying to overwhelm her, it was trying to become her, to displace her and merge itself with her. It was a predator, and it saw everything else as weak. He knew, because it was how he had felt most of his life, and even more so since bonding with Karnwyr. But the predator inside Kail was the sort that ate wolves for breakfast.

He stamped his feet on the mat inside the entrance to the Keep, loosening the snow that held to the grip of his boots. Karnwyr shook himself, dislodging snow and ice that clung to his coat. Together, they made their way through the Keep, towards the stairwell.

They passed Kail's room, stopped, and turned back. Outside her door, in front of the construct, Neeshka was pacing back and forth, the very picture of indecision.

"Are you trying to wear a hole in the floor?" he asked, approaching. "If so, you've made a good start."

"I'm worried about Kail."

"You're always worried about her."

"I know. But now, I think I have a _reason_ to be worried. I should have put an arrow through that bloody githzerai's head and grabbed the Sword of Gith," she grumbled darkly.

"You think that would have stopped her from getting pissed off at being told not to use her sword?"

"You don't understand," Neeshka sighed. "Just... forget about it. I'm going to pace out here a bit longer."

"Fine. Enjoy yourself. I'm going to bed."

"Sweet dreams," she smiled wickedly.

_There's something in there with her_, thought Karnwyr. The wolf was sniffing underneath the door, and now he scratched at it, his claws scoring the wood.

Bishop rattled the handle, but the door refused to open. He tried again, pushing his weight against it.

"Hey, what are you doing?" said Neeshka. "You'll wake her up!"

"You need to get that door open right now. There's something in there with her."

"What? I can't! It's bolted from the inside. I already tried." There was panic in the tiefling's voice. Then she turned to the construct. "Mister Pointy, break down the door!"

The golem turned as ordered and raised its bladed arm, using it to smash through the door at the place where the bolt held it shut. After three strikes the bolt gave way, and the door opened.

He stepped through, and was stopped in his tracks, a sick feeling in his stomach. In the middle of the room were two vampires, their lips red with blood. Sandwiched between them, pale and lifeless, was Kail. When the vampires moved, letting go of her, she crumpled to the floor.

"Kill the vampires!" Neeshka ordered the golem as she drew a short sword. Bishop took a knife from his belt, beginning to regret leaving his bow in his room. The vampires rushed towards them, and were intercepted by the golem. It swung at one, the male, and decapitated it. The female slowed, then seemed to think better of attacking. Instead, it made a leap towards the open window, turning its body to smoke and allowing the breeze to carry it away from the Keep.

"Kail, oh gods, Kail!" cried Neeshka, kneeling beside the still form of the woman. He knelt down beside her, feeling her wrist for a pulse. There was barely anything there; it was so slow and weak that it might as well not have existed at all. Judging by how little she bled from the puncture wounds on her neck, he suspected the vampires had bled her almost dry.

"Go and fetch Elanee and Casavir, quickly," he ordered the tiefling, pushing her away when she appeared not to hear him. "Go now, or she'll die."

"You mean... she's still alive?" asked Neeshka, her face sickeningly hopeful.

"Barely."

"Oh gods, what must she have been thinking... what they did to her... I think I need to be sick."

"Well do it on the way to fetching the druidess," he said, pushing her away again. She finally got the message, and left.

He conveyed to Karnwyr that he needed the blanket from the bed, and the wolf dragged it off and towards him. He used his dagger to cut a through one end of it, then grasped both side of the tear, pulling them apart. He was left with a long, thin strip, and he wrapped it around her neck, tight enough stem any further blood loss. Right now, she probably couldn't afford to lose even a drop more.

He had managed to stave off fear by keeping his mind occupied on bandaging her neck. Now he had nothing to keep him busy, and his imagination began to take over. He knew just how Neeshka felt; Kail must have fought against the vampires before succumbing to them. Had she been awake, when they began feeding on her? Had she felt her life draining away? Had she called out for help?

What would he do, if she died? When she was near him, he felt alive. If he lost her forever, he would never feel alive again. He would stay dead. He would lose the hope that someday she might ask him to stay with her, that someday she might want him to touch her, to help her.

_Don't,_ thought Karnwyr, taking his hand between his powerful teeth. He realised that the wolf was right; he couldn't fall into despair. He had to do something. He had to be useful.

He took the rest of the blanket and wrapped it around her, then sat cross-legged on the floor so he could pull her into his lap and wrap his arms around her. She was freezing cold, and he cursed the fact that she had let her fire go out; if she had even lit it at all. She was much too cold, but he knew that warming her would do very little to help her. What she needed was blood, to replace that which she had lost.

There were footsteps in the corridor and Neeshka appeared with Elanee and Casavir. For once, Bishop did not mind seeing the pair. The druid knelt hurriedly down beside him, resting her hands on Kail's chest.

"By the mercy of Sylvanus," she said, looking only a shade or two warmer than Kail herself. "She... I... I can't heal her. I can't cast any spells." There were tears in her eyes. "Casavir, you have to try."

The paladin knelt down beside them and placed one hand on Kail's cheek, the other on her neck, where the damage was worst. The pair of them shone with the light of healing energy, and for a moment he was the brightest thing Bishop had ever seen. Then it was gone, and Kail was still stone-cold in his arms.

"It didn't work," Elanee said worriedly.

"Go and find Zhjaeve, quickly," he said to Casavir and Neeshka. They left as Elanee wrapped her arms around her knees, which she brought up to her chin, as if protectively closing herself off to the world around her.

"I can't help her," the druid whispered, her gaze unfocused.

He ignored her, but tightened his hold on Kail, trying to lessen the tiny spaces between them that separated their bodies. He lowered his cheek to her nose, feeling faint movements of air as she exhaled. Her breathing didn't seem to be coming easily; it was laboured, and he noticed that her skin was clammy as well as pale.

"Hey, druid," he said, wishing Elanee would snap out of it. "Hey!"

"What?"

"What's wrong with her? Apart from the blood loss?"

"She's... had a heart attack," said Elanee, as if afraid to speak the words. "I think... she lost so much blood that her heart failed. I've... I've never been this close to... to someone who was so close to death... and not been able to help them."

He didn't bother trying to console her. If she felt useless, it was probably because she was. All she was good for was bleating on about the land and fawning at Casavir. Even the bloody gnome was more useful than that.

At last Casavir returned with Zhjaeve, and the githzerai took Elanee's place on the floor. As Casavir had done, she tried healing, and when nothing happened, she tried again and again. At last she turned to him, her pale eyes unreadable.

"Know that the Kalach-cha is too far gone for me to heal," she said. "And what is more, I believe that the vampires tried to turn her. She fought their attempt, but was so weakened by it that she has neither the strength nor desire to return."

"We can't just let her die!" said Neeshka desperately, kneeling down to stroke Kail's cold, pale face.

"If she dies, I can most likely bring her back," said Zhjaeve.

_I can bring her back,_ Karnwyr thought to him.

_How?_ he asked, ignoring the conversation that was happening in the room around him.

_Wolves can follow a soul to the edge of death, to the place where dreams merge with what is real. I can go there and fetch her back._

_Go. And be careful,_ he added, not thrilled with the idea of the wolf following someone, even Kail, to the edge of death.

Karnwyr jumped up onto her bed, lay his head on his paws and closed his eyes as he stretched his body out. Then he went away inside his mind, to somewhere Bishop couldn't follow.

o - o - o - o - o

_Kail fled through the swirling mists. This place had no form, no substance. It was simply a place of greyness, and unceasing fog that rolled around her as she ran. She fled because she was hunted. It was a feeling that she had known all her life, but suddenly it had grown stronger. In this place, she knew without a doubt that if she was caught, she would be destroyed utterly. And so she ran._

_ A grey form, sleek and powerful, chased her through the mist. In this place she would never tire, but neither would the one who was hunting her. They would simply run forever, trapped in this world of nothingness._

_ She did not belong here, she knew, but she had nowhere else to go. Her body hurt more than it had ever hurt before. She had seen a bright light beckoning to her, promising to take away her pain forever, and she had moved towards it. But between the light and herself was this grey place, and once she reached it she had dug in her heels; she was out of the body that pained her, but she was not willing to move forward, to end the pain entirely. Now, she stubbornly refused to move forwards or backwards, so she could only move sideways, through the mist._

_ She heard the hunter gaining on her, and began to panic. She had thought that she could out-run it. She had thought that she could make herself safe, that she would have time to prepare for it. But that time was quickly running out. It would soon be upon her._

_ Stopping, she turned, her mind suddenly made up. If the creature was going to catch her, then it would catch her. But it would not find her running, scared. It would find her waiting for it, ready to meet her end with dignity... and a fight. So she took a deep breath as the hunter drew near, and prepared herself for battle._

_ What stepped out of the mist before her eyes was a single wolf. It wasn't the beast of shadows that she so feared to face; it was simply a wolf, and it watched her with intelligent golden eyes. It seemed familiar, as if she knew it from somewhere else, but surely that was foolishness?_

_ 'What are you doing here?' the wolf said to her without words._

_ 'I don't know,' she replied without moving her lips._

_ 'You need to come back.'_

_ 'Where?'_

_ 'To your body.'_

_ 'I can't. It hurts too much.'_

_ 'You can't stay here,' said the wolf, sitting down and panting. 'This is the place between life and death, where dream-monsters roam and chase their victims through sleep.'_

_ 'Is that what you are? A dream monster?' she asked warily._

_ 'Of course not.' She sensed amusement from the wolf. He stood and approached her slowly, leaning his body against her legs. She ran her hand over his head... it seemed a familiar gesture. 'Come hunting with us,' the wolf offered._

_ 'Us?'_

_ From the swirling mist sprang other sleek bodies. Agouti wolves appeared, some larger than the one who spoke to her, some smaller. Some were leaders of their packs, others followed meekly. The wolf beside her suggested a hunt, and the others readily agreed._

_ 'But I can't hunt with you,' she said. 'I'm not a wolf.'_

_ 'Yes, you are. You just don't know it. Wolves can walk on two legs, too. But for this hunt you will need four.' The air around her shimmered, and she felt herself changing. It wasn't something that she did; rather, it was the wolves' influence on her, changing her into one of them. Her hands and feet became paws, her ears grew longer, her vision sharpened. An instant later she was one of them, and they sniffed her, familiarising themselves with her scent._

_ 'What should we hunt tonight?' asked one large wolf._

_ 'Something that will run,' said the wolf who had first talked to her. 'A deer, perhaps? A stag in his prime?'_

_ The other wolves agreed, and the landscape blurred, changing. The mist dissolved and she found herself in a forest, moonlight illuminating the scene around them. She stayed close to the wolf who felt familiar to her as the entire pack began sniffing around for scent of their prey. When one of them picked it up, they moved forward as one._

_ Because the deer was already some distance ahead, they trotted beneath the moonlight at first, moving ever forward, tirelessly, effortlessly. They covered the miles quickly, and the scent of the prey grew stronger. They increased their pace, loping forwards at a rate that rapidly ate ground, until they could smell their prey on the air itself. _

_ There was no howling as they hunted. There was no barking or yapping. There was only silence, as every mind became focussed on their target. Small groups of wolves split off from the main group, to circle around their prey, preventing it from escaping by changing its course. When the stag came into view, they increased their pace again, now running to tire the deer. There were more of them, and they could run for a very long time without needing to stop. The deer would succumb to exhaustion long before they did._

_ As their quarry began to flag, some of the wolves ran to its side, snapping at its legs, avoiding the dangerous antlers. Eventually the wolves caught up with it, dragging it down, tearing its throat and ending its life. Then, they fed._

_ She did not partake in the feeding. She merely watched over the rest as they ate; all except the wolf who had remained beside her throughout the chase. Inside, she felt warm, like she was part of something bigger than herself. This was, she realised, what it meant to be alive. Running with your pack-mates, working with them to achieve a goal, strengthening the bonds that you shared... this was what it meant to be a wolf._

_ When there was nothing left of the deer but bone and horn, the wolves set off again, a slow trot now that they were content. They found a cave and explored inside, settling down in the rear when it proved to be empty. She lay down with them, feeling the warmth of their bodies against hers. Though the air outside was cold, the cave quickly warmed with so many wolves inside it, and for a while she simply lay there listening to their slow breaths and their heartbeats._

_ 'If you come back, we can hunt more,' said the wolf beside her._

_ 'Why can't I stay here? Why can't we hunt here?'_

_ 'Because this is not real. The stag that we caught was simply an echo of a real deer. Eating here does not nourish our bodies. If you stay here much longer you will die. You will never be able to return, never be able to hunt again. You will be forced from this place. But if you come back, you can join my pack. You need not hunt alone.'_

_ 'Your pack?'_

_ She sensed the wolf beside her focus his mind, and a swirling image formed of mist. It was the image of a wolf who walked on two legs, like her. Instead of teeth, he carried a bow; he hunted with his eyes, not his nose; his body was furless, but clad in clothes. He, too, seemed familiar. But she pushed the image away with her mind._

_ 'No. I don't want to walk on two legs, and I don't want to be near wolves who do. Why can't I be like you? Why can't we hunt together?'_

_ 'Because he is part of my pack, so you must accept us both. And because you can never be a wolf who walks on four legs... but that doesn't mean you are any less of a wolf. Your time is running out. You must decide soon whether you wish to return. Or the decision will be taken for you.'_

_ 'I will return,' she said at last, her thoughts subdued. 'But I don't know the way.'_

_ 'I will show you the way,' said the wolf, standing and shaking his fur. 'Follow me'._

o - o - o - o - o

At first, Kail thought nothing had happened. She had followed the wolf, as he requested, and he had shown her the way back to her body. But when she returned, all she found was... greyness. Not the grey, swirling mist of the dream-place, but a greyness that was pervasive and still.

There was a breeze behind her, and she turned. She found herself looking at a grey figure wearing a grey cloak, its grey hood drawn up around its face. She recognised the figure, despite the fact that she had never seen its body, and her mind put a name to it; _Jergal_.

"Why am I here?" she asked, suddenly frightened. "I chose to go back. I chose to live. I don't want to die."

Jergal was silent as he pointed to something behind her. She turned again, and where before had been only greyness, there was now a wall of dying souls that wailed as they were absorbed into it. Far behind the wall was a crystal spire; she had been here before, when she had died. But why was she here now?

"I don't understand what you want of me," she said. Jergal pointed again to the wall, and she stepped closer, peering at the souls within it. She gasped, recognising one of them, and rushed towards him.

"Casavir!" she said, wanting to reach out and touch him but afraid to draw too close to the souls that cried out and tried to clutch at her as she neared. He opened his eyes, regarding her sadly. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I am here because you failed. You allowed the King of Shadows to destroy us," he said, though there was no tone of accusation in his words. It was as if he was merely stating facts.

"But... your belief in Tyr! You should not be here, in the Wall of the Faithless!"

"My belief in you overshadowed my belief in Tyr. I put all of my faith in you, and upon my death my god abandoned me for my sin."

It was almost more than she could take. Had he been angry, had he raged at her, she could have raged back. But he was just so sad and resigned. Even now, he refused to blame her. There were tears in her eyes as she stepped back and caught sight of another soul within the Wall.

"Oh gods, Neeshka!" she said, hurrying to kneel in front of her friend, who had almost been buried beneath the weight of the souls above her. "Neeshka, is that you?"

"Yes, it's me, sister," said the tiefling. Here, her blood-red eyes were just another shade of grey. "I thought that's what we were. Sisters."

"We are!"

"Not anymore. A sister would never betray me as you did. A sister would not have given up on me, leaving me to die cold and alone. Just like you left Shandra, too."

"No. I don't believe you," she said, stepping away. She knew that tears were trickling down her cheeks, but she could not prevent them from flowing. And the flow only increased when she saw Grobnar nearby.

"Oh, hello, Kail," he said as she walked towards him. "I say, this whole death experience has been remarkably... well... dull."

"I'm sorry that I let you down," she said, using her sleeve to catch some of her falling tears.

"No need to apologise. It's not a total loss. I mean, sometimes, I get to see demons coming and stealing souls. Sometimes I hope they'll take me with them. Can you imagine, being reborn as a demon? Imagine the things you'd see, not to mention do! I think it could become a best-seller."

"Not all of us are so thrilled to be here," said Sand, not far away. "Ah, my dear shard-bearer, how lovely it is to see you. I think Duncan is around here somewhere too, if you're looking for him."

"Sand... I'm sorry," she sobbed. His form, too, was grey, and slowly being absorbed into the wall, pushed down by newer, fresher souls.

"Sorry? Well yes, you should be. I thought you were strong enough to handle everything. I thought you would be victorious. I suppose that's what I get for putting all my money on the wrong horse."

"So, Zhjaeve's _Kalach-cha_ finally deigns to visit us, does she?" said a gruff voice close by. She hurried around the next part of the wall, and found herself facing Ammon.

"What did I do wrong, Ammon? How did I fail?" she begged. If only she could remember it for herself.

"You did nothing wrong. You did everything right, and you still failed. You simply weren't strong enough. You never were. You let us down simply by virtue of being you. We needed you to save us. But you couldn't."

She stepped away, trying not to hear his words. She didn't want to know anymore. She didn't want to be told how she had failed. She didn't want to see anybody else. But her eyes betrayed her as she caught sight of Bishop. She could not stop her feet from moving as they took her towards him.

"I needed you to save me," he said, echoing Ammon's words, though in a different form.

"She couldn't even save the Circle," said Elanee. The elf was not far away, though there was a strange expression of peace on her face. "But I am with them again, at last. We are together, here, and we talk of old times in Meredelain."

"Talk? You never shut up," said Qara. Kail stepped around the wall towards the sorceress. Qara's body was so absorbed into the wall that the only thing she could move was her eyes. "I just wish the Wall would hurry up and take me... at least then I wouldn't have to listen to her harp on about all the dead people in the Mere anymore. Hey! One of you back there touched me! Who was it?"

"Ach, lass, ye tried yer best." Khelgar's voice was weary, and she found him a few souls away from Qara. "I don't blame ye, lass. I mean, you weren't the only one to fail. None of us could stop the King of Shadows, in the end."

"Khelgar! Please tell me what went wrong!" she begged.

"The King of Shadows... it was just too powerful to be stopped. We should have seen it sooner. We should have fled while we had the chance. At least then we'd still be alive to fight another day."

"Know that this outcome was inevitable, Kalach-cha." Kail found Zhjaeve, the githzerai's grey eyes cold and accusing. "Despite all that I did for you, despite the knowledge that I offered to you, you would never had succeeded. You threw this knowledge back in my face. You scorned what I offered, and thought your way was best. Perhaps you were right all along. Perhaps we should have removed the shard from your chest and returned the pieces of the Sword to the githyanki. It is clear that you never deserved it."

She left the wall, running back to Jergal, who was waiting for her in the emptiness. Sobbing, she clutched at his arm, squeezing the grey material between her fingers.

"Tell me this isn't my fault!" she begged. "Tell me that I wasn't responsible for this."

"But I thought you despised liars, Kail?" he asked, in his cold, empty voice.

She straightened, releasing his arm from her grip. Something was wrong. _Very_ wrong. The last time she had met Jergal, she had felt a strange sort of affinity for him, as a result of her divine blood. Just as she had felt a kinship with Shaundakul. Now, there was nothing. He might as well not even have been there, for all that she felt inside.

"Who are you?" she asked, wishing she had a weapon handy. "What have you done with Jergal?"

"He, too, is in the Wall," said the figure, pointing back. And, sure enough, she saw Jergal, as trapped as any other soul.

"You're the King of Shadows!" she hissed.

He laughed, and the sound grew louder and louder until it echoed around the entire place, threatening to deafen her. She held her hands over her ears, desperately trying to keep out the noise, and then closed her eyes, wishing herself away from the place.

o - o - o - o - o

There was light and heat, and most of all, pain. All of them washed over Kail as she opened her eyes. She saw silk material, swaying gently above her, and turning her head she found the fire burning in the hearth. She was back in her room. Back in Crossroad Keep.

_Back_? But... coming back meant she had gone away. Where had she gone? Why had she gone? And when had she returned? She remembered nothing, except... Oh gods, she had seen everybody she knew being slowly sucked into the Wall of the Faithless. All because she had failed in her task to stop the King of Shadows. All because she hadn't been strong enough. Because she had let everybody down.

"Are you really awake this time?" asked a voice not too far away. She licked her lips, trying to work moisture into her mouth. She wanted to ask what was happening, but she was spared from having to voice the question. "We've been taking it in turns to keep an eye on you. You missed Neeshka's shift by about half an hour," said Bishop.

"There... there's something on my chest," she managed to croak. "It's crushing me. I can't breathe properly."

There was silence, and she wished that he would say something. Why wasn't he talking? Usually she couldn't get him to shut up. And why couldn't she move? Since she had awoken she had tried to sit up, but whatever was crushing her chest was keeping her down on the bed.

"There's nothing on your chest," he said at last. There was the scraping sound of a chair being moved, and he repositioned himself to where she could see him without having to move her head. At once, the look in his eyes worried her. It was the same look Bevil had used on her when Amie died. A look that expressed sorrow and an inability to broach a difficult subject.

"Tell me," she ordered, aware that it came out as nothing more than a frightened whisper.

"You had a heart attack," he said. "The vampires drained so much blood that your heart shut down." The fingers of both his hands curled, clenching to fists briefly before loosening again. "That's why we're watching you closely. Sand's been working on some traps that will catch them if they come back, and we have the Greycloaks patrolling beneath your window. We think that's how they got in. It wasn't locked."

She heard his voice but not his words. Instead, she closed her eyes and felt tears trickling down her cheeks as she recalled the events that had led to her disturbing dream. The vampires... she had been as helpless as a child as they had fed on her. She could hear them, slurping her blood, she could feel it rushing out through her veins. She could feel her strength weakening, her body growing cold, and all she had been able to do was cry inside her head.

"Stop it!" Bishop's harsh command forced her eyes open. "Do you want to give yourself another heart attack?" For a moment she didn't understand what he meant. Then she realised that she was hyperventilating, her breaths coming rapidly and shallow as panic set in. "Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. That'll slow your breathing down."

For a few minutes she did as he suggested, and took her mind away from the vampires and their deadly touch.

"Why do I feel so weak?" she asked.

"They couldn't heal you. They tried, but Zhjaeve said you were too far gone. She was going to wait for you to die, then bring you back. But... then you came back on your own. Guess you Harbormen are harder to kill than you look," he scowled, as if daring her to question his account of events.

She merely nodded, and closed her eyes, thinking of the Arvahn healing Ritual. As she thought of it, she felt warm energy passing through her body, taking away the worst of her pain and easing the pressure on her chest a little. Then she pushed herself up into a sitting position, looking around the room as she recovered her breath. Simply performing the tiny act of sitting had exhausted her.

"I'll never get used to you doing that," Bishop mused.

"What, sitting? I've been doing it all my life," she quipped.

"I see your sense of humour is intact."

She pushed off her blanket and took several deep breaths, tensing the muscles in her body, ready to push herself off the bed.

"Are you going somewhere?" he asked.

"I have to get my Sword. Don't try to stop me," she said. He merely rolled his eyes, and, for a response, put his palm on her forehead. She shivered. "Gods, man, you're freezing!"

"No, you're burning up. First you were stone-cold, now you have a fever. I'd be surprised if you can even stand. Walking anywhere will probably kill you. And if walking doesn't, Neeshka will, as soon as she sees you out of bed."

"You called her Neeshka," she smiled. "Not 'the little thief' or 'vixen'."

"Slip of the tongue. Now, I'm not blind, I can see that you're on a fast trip back to the land of nod, so why don't you lie down and try to sleep off your fever while I get some food sent up. I'm sure Kana and Nevalle will want to talk to you, too. They've been outside your door since... well, since it happened."

She felt alarm at his words, and looked quickly towards the window. Although it had now been bolted, there was no guarantee that it wouldn't keep more undead out. What if they came back to finish her off? She didn't think she could stand being drained by a vampire again. She would sooner kill herself first.

"Don't worry, I won't leave you alone," he said, apparently picking up on her thoughts.

"I wasn't worried," she lied, settling back down into the bed. He was right about one thing, at least; she _was_ burning up. Her whole body was coated with sweat, and she didn't even want to pull the blanket back over herself. She closed her eyes, intending to rest them for a few moments. But before she knew it she had drifted back into sleep.

o - o - o - o - o

Bishop opened the door as quietly as he could, not wanting to wake Kail now that she was asleep again. Outside, on seats in the corridor, were Nevalle and Kana. Neeshka was leaning against the wall opposite the construct, which had been given much praise and admiration from Grobnar for its swift action the night before. _Bloody gnome._

"She was awake briefly," he said, as Kana and Nevalle stood. "But now she's asleep again. She's asked for food to be sent up, though. And somebody should probably tell the gith that she'll need checking over soon."

"I'll go and sort out some soup for her," Kana nodded, leaving in the direction of the kitchen.

"I'll advise Zhjaeve to come along shortly," said Nevalle curtly. Then he too left.

"How is she?" Neeshka asked him nervously.

"Weak. Exhausted. Terrified. About as well as you could expect."

"Let me take a turn at watching her," she said, in what was probably supposed to be a gentle, soothing voice. "You haven't left her side all night."

"No. I'm going to wait in case that vampire bitch comes back. Then I can put one of these," he patted the quiver of arrows blessed in holy water that hung from his belt, "through her head."

"Alright," she agreed reluctantly. "I'll be out here if you need me. And I'll bring the food in when it arrives."

He nodded and returned to the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Kail was still asleep on her bed, the blanket strewn to one side. He shook his head and put it back over her. Burning up she may be, but the sweat on her body would quickly cool her once exposed to air, chilling her and making her body weaker. She would have known that, had she been herself. Clearly her mind had been deeply affected by her ordeal.

He sank down into his seat again, grateful that she had included him in the Arvahn healing Ritual. It had cleansed him of his weariness, soothed the ache in muscles that had sat still for too long. Something else in his favour was the fact that she now seemed to be sleeping soundly. He didn't know what nightmare she had been trapped in earlier, but it had made her cry even in her sleep. There had been only tears; no sounds, no mumbles from her, no words, just tears that she would never have wanted him to see.

Giving himself the excuse of checking her fever, he touched her forehead, letting his hand linger, his fingers gently tracking down cheeks that were damp with sweat. Here, for brief moments, he could touch her. That was how you began to tame an animal that was wary of you or frightened. You touched it, lightly, briefly. When it no longer shied away from soft touches you could touch it more firmly. Eventually, it would learn to trust you, learn that your touch didn't mean harm, and it would accept your touch without question. It was how he had finally gotten Karnwyr to trust him, when the wolf was a puppy, tortured and traumatised by his Luskan tormentors.

He was, partially, angry with himself for touching her, for wanting her to trust him, for simply being here at all. It wasn't as if she was short on people who wanted to look out for her. But he had wanted to be here when she woke. He wanted to be the first person she saw, the first voice she heard. In part, it was because of what Karnwyr had done. He was in mixed feelings about his companion's actions. When he had questioned the wolf, after he had returned from wherever he had gone whilst asleep, Karnwyr had simply told him that he had found Kail and brought her back. When he questioned why it had take so long, the wolf conveyed that he'd had to search for her, hunting for a long time. And then she'd needed... convincing. But Karnwyr wouldn't say what that convincing was. There were some things he just wouldn't share with the part of him that walked on two legs, and his experience with Kail at the edge of death was one of them.

The woman stirred, and he pulled his hand away, afraid that his touch had woken her. But she merely clutched the blanket it one hand, and resettled. Experimentally, he ran his hand across her open palm, the hand nearest to him, and her fingers closed reflexively, closing around his fingers for a moment before relaxing again. He extracted his hand from hers with a smile. Babies often did the same as they slept, their tiny fingers grasping automatically at what tickled them.

He leant back in the chair, pushing the mental image away. Memories that he tried to forget had been haunting him recently. Memories of home, of times when he actually had something to care about. Was it because of the shadow's influence, spreading across the land? Or was it because of _her_ influence?

The door opened, and Neeshka admitted herself, followed by Nevalle and Kana. The tiefling carried a tray with two dishes of soup on it, and this she gave to him as she crawled onto the bed to sit beside Kail. He wished he could join her. There had been times, when her body was freezing cold, that he had considered climbing into the bed with her, holding her close to warm her with the heat from his body. But she hadn't wanted that when he spent three days in her bed, and she probably wouldn't want it now.

"Kail," said Neeshka quietly, gently shaking the sleeping woman's shoulder. The bard's eyes flickered open, meeting his for a moment. Then she turned her head to look at her friend, expressing surprise at Kana and Nevalle's presence too.

"I am glad to see you looking better, Captain," said Kana.

"This is 'better'?" Kail asked with a dry laugh.

"Compared to what you looked like before, it's much better."

"We brought you some food," said Neeshka, gesturing at the tray with the soup. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really. But I should probably eat something... help fight off the fever, right?"

"Right." The tiefling gestured for him to pass a bowl whilst she helped Kail to sit up. Then she put the bowl in Kail's lap and lifted the spoon, blowing across it to cool the liquid.

"You are _not_ feeding me, Neeshka," Kail said firmly. "Give me the spoon."

For a wonder, Neeshka complied, and he watched the pair for a moment as the utensil changed hands. Though Kail looked relatively healthy, he knew that it was a lie. Her eyes, bright blue in the firelight, were _too_ bright. Dark purple shadows tinged the skin beneath her eyes and above her eyelids, making her eyesockets look hollow. Her cheeks were flushed, but with fever, not normal warmth. She gripped the spoon too tightly, to stop her hand from shaking, and swallowed each spoonful of liquid painfully.

Somebody else entered the room, and Kail stopped in mid-spoon to look up at the door. Anger flashed in her eyes, and she put the spoon in her bowl.

"Get her out of here," she said quietly.

"I have come to check on you, Kalach-cha," said Zhjaeve.

"Get her out of here now, and keep her out. I don't want to see her in here again!"

He didn't know the reason for Kail's anger, but he knew that if her anger grew it would turn to stress, and risk another heart attack. He quickly stood and crossed the floor to the githzerai in three paces, grasping her arm firmly to escort her out.

"I suggest you don't come back," he warned her as he closed the door on her. Then he bolted it, to ensure she wouldn't return.

"Kail, Zhjaeve just wants to help," said Neeshka, trying to calm her friend.

"Elanee can help me," she said, some of the venom gone from her voice, though her eyes were still feverish and angry.

"Elanee can't heal you. She can't cast spells."

"I don't _need_ healing," Kail hissed. "Sometimes you can't just wave your hand and cast a spell and make it all go away. Life doesn't work like that."

"But..."

"No. Nevalle, if Zhjaeve comes in here without my permission, arrest her."

"To what end, Captain?" Nevalle asked. "If I arrest everybody who slights you in some way, you'll have nobody left to fight the war with you."

"Or I'll have those I can trust. Speaking of which, tomorrow I am heading out to Port Llast."

Kana and Nevalle exchanged skeptical glances with each other, and for once, Bishop knew just how they felt. If Kail thought she was going _anywhere_ in her current condition, she was sadly mistaken. Not only had she just returned from death's doorstep, but the snow was drifting at almost his own waist height out there, which meant it would swamp her. Still, she would act the stubborn Harborman and refuse to give in.

"Is there... anything you would like me to do in your absence, Captain?" asked Kana, obviously humouring the woman by playing into her delusions.

"Just the usual. I'd like reports ready for me when I get back."

"Yes, of course."

"I will advise Lord Nasher of your imminent recovery," said Nevalle.

"Thank you. Both of you. You may go, now."

He watched the pair leave, and knew that they would do none of what they had promised. Kana would not want to trouble the Captain of Crossroad Keep with reports at a time like this, and Nevalle would be lying if he told Nasher Kail was recovered.

"Kail," said Neeshka, her tail flicking nervously, "you aren't _really_ planning to go to Port Llast, are you? I mean... you almost died last night. You need to rest and recover your strength..."

"Yes, I really am planning to go there. The King of Shadows won't wait for me to recover before striking again."

"Then... why don't you travel to Clan Ironfist and make an alliance with them? That's gotta be more beneficial than looking for Wenderthings."

"Wendersnaven. And I told Grobnar I would help him look for them. You were there when I promised him we'd look. I won't go back on my promise."

"But..."

"I think I'd like to sleep some more now. I have to make an early start in the morning. We can continue this on the way to Port Llast."

"Well... alright," said Neeshka worriedly. "I'll let you get some sleep, then."

"Thank you. By the way, who's next to be bored to tears watching me sleep?"

He held his breath. If the tiefling told Kail that he'd been watching her all along, that would lead to questions. Questions that he just didn't have answers for. Neeshka studied him for a moment, then smiled at Kail.

"Well, if we're all going to go Port Llast with you tomorrow, we need to get some sleep ourselves. Bishop can stay and keep watch... I'm sure he's used to having sleepless nights before now." Then she was gone from the room. He followed her footsteps to the door and bolted it.

"Can I borrow your knife?" Kail asked, spying the dagger that hung from his belt sheath.

"I already lent you one."

"I know, but I don't know where it is."

He walked to her dresser and took the skinning knife from the top drawer, tossing it to her in its small scabbard. She caught it one-handed; obviously her reflexes were still working just fine. Slowly, because she was clearly in pain, she slipped the knife under her pillow.

"You can turn me to ashes in a heart beat and you have to sleep with _that_ under your pillow?" he snorted.

"It's not for you. It's in case the vampires come back."

"You can just incinerate them too," he pointed out. She looked at him for a moment, her fevered blue eyes giving away nothing. Then she lowered herself back into a lying position and curled up in her blankets.

He took his place in the chair beside her bed and pulled his bow onto his knee, running his hands over the familiar Duskwood body. He had made it himself, years ago, on one of his first forays into the place. Escorting goods from place A to place C via place B, of course. That was around the time he had met Malin, too. He felt his brows knit into a frown automatically at the thought of the half-elven woman. As a scout, she was barely competent. As a lover, she hadn't been much better.

When he noticed Kail watching him, her eyes bright and unblinking, he forced his face to smoothness and met her stare with one of his own.

"What?" he snapped at last when her eyes remained on his face.

"Give me your hand," she replied.

His hand was moving before he could even ask what she wanted it for, and he mentally kicked himself for being so compliant. She took his hand in hers, her skin damp but soft, and pressed the back of his hand against her forehead.

"You're not as cold," she said at last.

"Your fever must have broken."

"Good." She released his hand, his skin feeling bare and empty away from her touch. "I'll be well for travelling to Port Llast tomorrow."

She closed her eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep, and he was left wondering why she was so desperate to go to Port Llast that she was willing to lie to herself. It was a puzzle, and he had the whole night to consider it.

o - o - o - o - o

He woke the next day to the sound of somebody exerting themselves. With a silent groan he rolled his shoulders, flexing the stiff muscles in his arms and back. He had only allowed himself to fall asleep because Karnwyr was lying behind the door, doubling as a draught excluder and a watch dog.

He looked at the bed and noticed Kail missing. But she hadn't gone very far. She was at the other side of the bed, slowly pushing herself up, standing on shaky legs like a newborn deer. Her nightshirt was dry, attesting the fact that her fever had broken and disappeared during the night.

"Going somewhere?" he asked casually.

"Port Llast," she said, taking deep, pained breaths as she stepped behind the wooden screen. She was lucky that there was a chair behind there; he didn't think she was capable of standing for much longer. "You let me sleep for too long," she called in an accusing voice.

"_You_ let you sleep for too long, wildcat. I'm here to guard you against the undead, not to babysit you."

There was silence for a while, and the sound of clothing being ruffled. Silently, he made his way from the chair to the door, leaning back against it with his arms folded across his chest. When she stepped out from behind the screen she made her way to the bed, sitting down for a moment to catch her breath.

"I'm not going to Port Llast," he said, when she made no further move towards the door.

"I don't expect you to. And you have no need to. I know the way."

"You're not going either."

"I am the Captain of Crossroad Keep," she said, sitting up a little taller. "I can go to Port Llast if I want."

"Alright then, Captain. All you need to do is get past me. I'm sure that will be no problem for a healthy, strong individual, such as yourself."

"Fine," she said, pushing herself up from the bed and taking slow, small steps towards him. Though her expression was one of determination, he could tell she was masking pain. He hadn't even thought she'd make it this close to the door, but she managed it somehow. Each small step drew a deep, rasping breath from her, and he wondered if she was risking another heart attack. Perhaps he shouldn't have pushed her so far, this time. But she was just so bloody stubborn! If he didn't stop her in here he'd only have to follow her into the corridor then drag her back in when she collapsed.

At last she was standing in front of him, and he knew that there mere act of standing was putting a terrible strain on her body. She stood there for a moment, staring at him through her lashes, the same determined look on her face. For an instant he thought she would be stupid enough to actually attack him. Then, she sighed, closing her eyes.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked. For a reply, he took her by the arm, all but dragging her bodily to the nearby window. Then he held her shoulders as she looked out across the Keep, at the Greycloaks struggling to wade through waist-high snow. He felt the fight go out of her, then, her shoulders slumping visibly. But she managed to find a short burst of energy to step out of his grip and return to the bed.

"Still want to go to Port Llast, Captain?" he asked.

"No," she said, closing her eyes. "Will you... will you tell me what happened? With the vampires, I mean. I thought... I didn't think anyone would come for me."

"Are you sure you want to know?" he asked, his voice quiet even to his own ears.

"I don't like not knowing," she said, opening her eyes to meet his. He shrugged and walked back to the door to lean against it. It seemed like the safest place to be. Here, if she started to cry, he could ignore the urge to hold her in his arms.

"I was passing by with Karnwyr when we... I... noticed the thief stood outside your room, wearing a hole in the carpet. She was worried about you, she wanted to talk to you, but she didn't want to wake you, and she couldn't get in your room anyway... it was bolted. Then Karnwyr smelt something under your door, I told the tiefling, she ordered the golem to break down your door -- Veedle's repaired it, by the way -- and then she had it attack the vampires. It killed one of them. The male. The female fled through the window. The rest I mentioned last night."

"Then I owe you and Neeshka and Karnwyr my life."

"Don't thank me, it was Neeshka who saved your life. Besides, you've probably saved the lives of everyone here twice over, Captain," he said, unable to keep something of a sneer from his voice.

"Don't call me that," she said quietly.

"Why not? It's what you are. And you seem to have no problem throwing your title around whenever you want something."

"Then I won't throw it at you again. I don't want to be your Captain."

"Oh? And what do you want to be?" The words were out of his mouth before he even realised what he had said, and by the time his brain caught up it was too late to recall them.

She merely watched him for a moment, her eyes cool and grey with none of their former feverish light. The urge to squirm beneath her gaze began to rise, and he forced his body to stillness, forced himself to return her uncomfortable stare. The moment stretched out, and he started to suspect that he'd asked the wrong question. Then there was a knock on the door, and he was proud that he didn't jump in fright at the sound, as she did.

He unbolted the door and peered around it, looking into a pair of deep red eyes.

"What?" he snapped, trying to keep the growl from his voice. It wouldn't do to get angry with Neeshka; the tiefling would make a frightening enemy.

"Can I talk to you? In private for a moment?" she asked hesitantly. He looked back into the room, at the woman who was still watching him, then stepped out into the corridor, closing the door behind him.

"What is it?"

"I'm taking Grobnar, Sand, Khelgar and Ammon and going to Port Llast."

"Are you crazy? That snow's deeper than Grobnar and Khelgar."

"I know, but we'll manage. We'll ride, or at least take a pack-horse, or something."

"Why are you even doing this?" he asked. Was _everybody_ around here crazy? The bloody Wendersnaven didn't bloody exist!

"To stop Kail from going. She's so desperate to go there, to keep her promise to Grobnar... I figured I'd take him instead, then Kail doesn't have to go."

He led her a short way down the corridor, away from the door, and lowered his voice.

"Look, she's not going because she wants to keep her promise to the gnome or make alliances with giant invisible rats. She wants to go because she's desperate to get away from this Keep. Would you want to stay here, if you'd just had the life sucked out of you by undead who crept into your own bedroom? Who attacked you in the one place you should have been safe?"

"I suppose not. But I'm going anyway. Kail's going to want to go eventually, and this will save her the trip."

"Fine. I'm staying."

"I thought you would. Don't tell her yet, that I've gone. She'll only want to come after us if she finds out. Leave it as long as you can before telling her. And take care of her for me whilst I'm gone. Make sure she eats and drinks and..."

"I _know_ what a sick person needs, vixen."

"Okay. Well, I'll hopefully be back within a week or so." Her tailed curled from side to side as she sauntered down the corridor. "Don't tire her out," she called back with a grin, then turned the corner before he could even consider a scathing reply.

When he returned to the room, he found Kail sitting at her table, the palms of her hands pressed against her temples. She was reading over an old Greycloak report, her eyes scanning the words.

"Anything I need to know about?" she asked without looking up.

"Sal sends his best wishes for a speedy recovery to the Captain of the Keep." It wasn't a complete lie. Sal probably _was_ wishing Kail a speedy recovery.

"I'll thank him myself later. For now, I'm hungry. And I wish to speak to Zhjaeve." She looked up at him, regarding him coolly for a moment. "Will you please ask one of the Greycloaks to sort it out?"

He gave her a mock bow and left the room again. For now, if running errands and playing messenger kept her in her room, it was all for the better. He would let her give him orders, for the time being. But if she thought it was going to last after she was recovered, she was going to be very disappointed.

o - o - o - o - o

Kail took a deep breath as Bishop left the room, and hoped that he had been duped by her review of the old report. In reality, the words were swimming around the page, and she couldn't focus on a single one of them. But she had to remain strong. She couldn't let the Greycloaks see her weak and afraid. Now, more than ever, she needed to show them that she was determined to fight the shadow.

In a way, she was glad that Bishop was here, and not one of her other friends. He had seen her almost at her worst. He had seen her die, and seen her brought back. She would not have wanted Khelgar or Casavir here. They would have seen her weakness and pitied her for it. They would have allowed her to be weak. They would have fallen over themselves to help her. But Bishop did not. He made everything, from simply getting out of bed to leaving the room a challenge. And because she could never back down from a challenge, she forced herself to move forwards, pushing herself to remain strong.

She had felt a moment of unease when she told him she didn't want to be his Captain, and he'd asked her what she wanted to be. At that moment she had recalled parts of her dreams; the wolf-dream, where Karnwyr spoke to her and hunted with her, and showed her the image of another two-legged wolf whose pack she could be part of. Then she'd remembered the second dream, the one where everybody was stuck in the Fugue Plane's Wall of the Faithless. His words in that dream, recalled now to her mind, sent a chill down her spine. _I needed you to save me._ What did that even mean? She had no idea, but she suspected the man in her dreams hadn't been referring to the King of Shadows.

"It's done," said Bishop, slipping back into her room. "Zhjaeve's on her way and I told the kitchen to send up something more nutritious than soup. How they expect you to recover on a liquid diet is beyond me." He went to the dresser and took a pitcher of water and a glass, placing them on the table in front of her. "In the mean time... drink. I'm supposed to make you drink every half hour or so, and I'd prefer not having to pin you down and force it into you."

To prove that she could listen to reason, she poured herself a glass of water, cursing the way that her arm shook as she held the weight of the pitcher, and drank the whole thing. He grunted, but whether that was a sign that he was pleased or surprised she did not know. Not long after, a Greycloak appeared with a tray of food; there was a selection of cooked meats and vegetables, gravy in its own small dish, some small apples and pears, and a plate of cheese and biscuits. She lifted a bone that had been boiled but still had bits of stringy meat attached, and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I don't think this is for me. It must be yours," she said. He shook his head, took the bone, and tossed it to Karnwyr. The wolf caught it in his jaws and then settled down again behind the door to chew his new prize.

"The kitchen staff spoil him," he sniffed.

"He deserves it," she replied with a smile for the wolf. "He brought me back." Karnwyr merely watched her for a moment as he cracked open the bone with his teeth to get at the marrow.

"You remember that, do you?" asked Bishop, sitting on the edge of her table with his arms folded. "What else do you remember?"

"Not much," she admitted. "I was somewhere in mist. I could feel that I was being hunted. Then Karnwyr showed up. He talked to me. There were other wolves, and they turned me into a wolf too. Then we went hunting. After that we found a den, and the other wolves slept there. Then I decided to come back. That's about it, really."

"That doesn't sound much like the after-life."

"No. The first time I died was much more fun. Perhaps next time will be more interesting," she quipped, and regretted it when he cast her a dark, intense look. The way his eyes glittered, reflecting the light in the room, was hypnotising, and she found she couldn't look away. Just as she hadn't been able to look away from Karnwyr's eyes when she had come face to face with him for the first time in the Flagon.

There was a knock on the door, and she jumped for the second time that day. These badly timed knocks were _not_ doing any favours for her heart. She could feel it pounding inside her chest, working overtime to supply blood to her body. As Bishop stood and went to unbolt the door, she took a deep breath, trying to flood her body with oxygen so her heart didn't have to work as hard.

When Zhjaeve entered the room, Bishop raised a questioning eyebrow at her. She shook her head briefly. She wanted him to stay. Her business with Zhjaeve would not take more than a minute, and after that, she didn't want to be left alone.

"You wish to speak to me, Kalach-cha?" said Zhjaeve, her voice as calm as ever.

"Yes," she replied, sitting up straighter. "I wanted to tell you that this is all your fault. What happened to me. Yours and Ammon's."

"We did not allow the servants of the King of Shadows into the Keep. We would have slain them, had we known they were here."

"But you took my Sword. You left me here defenceless. You left me to die."

"Had you been in possession of the Sword of Gith, Kalach-cha, you would have used it as you have in the past. It may have destroyed the vampires, but it would have left you bleeding from your heart. You would have been dead within minutes."

"It would have been a better way to die than feeling the life being sucked out of me," she said, narrowing her eyes. "It would have been better than being helpless. It would have been quick and painless. Instead, I had to suffer like you cannot even imagine."

"Know that..."

"NO!" she slammed the flat of her hand down on the table, her skin stinging from the impact. In her chest, her heart worked overtime. "I won't 'know' anything. Until I have the Sword of Gith in my hand once more I won't trust you a single inch. Now leave, and stay out of my way, or I will have you removed from the Keep. Permanently."

When Zhjaeve had left, Kail pushed back her chair and stood, walking carefully to the bed. Her anger had returned, and for a moment it had sustained her, giving her the strength she needed to say the words she wanted to say. But it had fled with the githzerai's departure, and now she felt nothing but despair. The events of the night when the vampires found her came flooding back into her mind. She could feel the touch of their cold hands on her once more, she could feel their cold lips on her neck, their sharp teeth biting through her skin to release the blood flowing through her veins. She needed to cry, and she knew she was going to, but she was torn.

Her desire to cry, to finally allow herself to accept what had happened, was just as strong as her desire to not be left alone in this room where she had almost died. Left alone even for minutes, she knew she would start panicking and hyperventilating, and might risk having another heart attack. So she could cry in front of Bishop and let him see her weak, or she could ask him to leave and be alone in this tomb of a room. In the end, he saved her the trouble of having to decide.

"Why don't I go and get you some fresh water from the kitchen?" he said, taking the pitcher and leaving the room. But he left Karnwyr behind, and as soon as he was gone the wolf was up on the bed beside her. She threw her arms around his shaggy neck and let her tears flow, let her sobs come unimpeded. She cried until there were no tears left inside her, then she curled up on the bed, pulling the blanket around her and curling up to the wolf's warm body. There, she drifted into a dreamless sleep, finally allowing her mind to rest.

o - o - o - o - o

When it was finally safe for Bishop to return, Karnwyr contacted him by thought, showing him the inside of the room. Kail was sleeping but beginning to stir, and would soon be fully awake. He filled the pitcher he had taken with water then strolled back to her room. On the way, he almost bumped into Casavir. Luckily, the tin-head's armour rattled enough that he was able to hear the man coming in time to side-step him.

"Watch it," he growled, trying not to spill water onto the floor.

"I didn't hear you," said Casavir, stating the blatantly obvious. _He_ wasn't the one who went stomping around everywhere. "We heard Kail was awake, and we wondered how she is doing."

"Upset, exhausted, and not in the mood for visitors," he said curtly.

"I see. Well, perhaps I shall return tomorrow. Elanee would like to speak with her in private."

"So, she's got you wrapped around her finger now, has she?" he grinned. "Found herself a pliable errand-boy?"

"I do not mind being the 'errand-boy' for the woman I love," said Casavir coldly. "Though I would not expect you to understand, Bishop."

His grin turned into a scowl as the tin-head stalked away. Why the man had such a bee in his armour he didn't know. Hadn't he volunteered to watch over Kail during her recovery? As far as he was concerned, he was doing the Tyr-loving fool a favour. If he hadn't volunteered to keep watch, then Casavir would have. That would have made Elanee insanely jealous, and he would have learned just how much the woman he loved actually loved him back.

His bad mood clung to him as he entered the Captain's suite and quietly placed the pitcher onto the table. It was dark outside, now. The sun had set almost an hour ago. Throughout the day, the Greycloaks had made progress in clearing the main roads of the Keep, but the snow was still deep everywhere else.

Something glinting in the cold moonlight caught his attention, and his eyes picked out the shape of a feather, suspended on a silver coiled wire. He smiled and picked it up, letting it dangle in the air for a moment, twirling around like a leaf in a pond. Then he sat down on the bed beside the sleeping woman and gently tied the feather back into her hair. Despite what he had said to her when he was forced by that blasted tiefling to share her bed, he thought she suited the feathers. They made her look wild, and not at all like a respectable Knight-Captain of a Keep.

She stirred as he pulled his hands away from her hair, and her eyes fluttered open. Panic registered on her face as she realised that it was dark, and she sat up quickly, looking around, her eyes wide in fright.

"Don't worry. I'm here," he said, and for once she didn't jump.

"I wasn't worried," she said, though he could hear the relief in her voice. He could try to pretend that she was relieved he was with her, but he would only be fooling himself. She would have been relieved to have _anybody_ with her, even the gnome.

"I've been thinking," he said as he moved away from the bed to throw logs on the dying embers of the fire. "Now that you've dismissed your healer, I should probably take a look at your neck."

"My... neck?" she asked, raising a probing hand and appearing to feel the bandages wrapped around it for the first time. "Oh. I'm sure it will be fine."

"Maybe. But I'd rather check now if infection has set in, than when you're septic. You _do_ remember what that's like, don't you?"

"I remember," she said, subconsciously running a hand down one arm. Down the tattoos that were hidden by the material of her shirt.

He stoked the fire, bringing the embers back to life. Slowly, the logs he had put on the fire began to smoulder, then to burn. He used a burning splint to light candles in sconces around the room, then returned to the window, blowing the splint out as he looked across the courtyard. The Greycloaks were allegedly on full undead alert, but one could never be too careful where a peasant militia was concerned.

"Please... close the curtains," said Kail, her voice pained. She looked at her, and noticed her eyes closed. She didn't open them again until she heard the sound of the curtains being pulled together across the rail, and when she did, relief was clear in them.

"Come over here," he said, taking a chair and placing it in front of the fire. She complied, shakily, sitting down in the chair and taking a deep breath. It was clearly going to be some time before she was well enough to walk any distance, much less run and fight. "Turn your head, like this," he said, gently repositioning her head with his fingers. With her face tilted away from him he could see the knot of the bandage more easily, and he began picking at it, hoping it would unravel quickly. It did not. This was a true bandage, one Elanee had replaced his make-shift blanket bandage with, and she had tied the knot expertly.

He took the knife from his belt and her eyes widened at the sound, her body jerking in fear and her head snapping back around so he could not easily access the knot. He suppressed a sigh. She had never even been twitchy around knives before, and now she was jumping at the sight of them.

"Don't worry," he said, cupping her face in his free hand and meeting her eyes squarely. "I've never cut anybody by _accident_."

She nodded, allowing him to move her head back into position, and he quickly slipped his knife between the knotted layer and the one below it, making a slicing motion that tore right through the material. He heard her let out a sigh of relief, exhaling the breath she had obviously been holding.

"You can put your head forward again," he said and began unwinding the bandage, passing it around her neck from one hand to the other. At last her skin was exposed, and he threw the bandage into the fire. It was useless, now. If she needed another, he'd have to use a fresh one.

He ran one hand along the skin of her neck, gently feeling for the puncture wounds that marred her flesh. They were small, now, almost completely healed. Though they might leave small scars, they would not bleed again. He checked the other side of her neck, where he had seen the female feeding from. The scars here were a little larger, a little rougher. They hadn't healed as well as the others, but they didn't seem to be in danger of opening.

"I think we can leave the bandage off," he said, looking at her face and expecting to see her smile. Instead, her eyes were closed, and tears ran down her cheeks. _Damnit_! What had set her off now? He wasn't any _good_ at consoling upset people. He was good at getting on peoples' nerves, at irritating them, at insulting them with biting remarks. But sympathy was something he didn't have much experience of.

What should he do? Should he hold her? Should he wipe her tears away? Should he make a joke? Should he say something sarcastic? He was sure she appreciated his sarcastic remarks. He looked to Karnwyr for advice, but the wolf gave the mental equivalent of a shrug. Wolves, at least those that walked on four legs, didn't cry.

The moment passed before he could make a decision. She reached up with her hand, grasping his wrist, and he thought that she would tear his hand away. Instead, he felt a warm glow suffuse his body from his scalp to his toes, making his skin tingle pleasantly.

"How does it look now?" she asked, her voice surprisingly strong for someone who was crying.

He checked again, using the fingers of both hands to probe the bite-marks on her neck. Now they were smooth, and there was barely any scar visible at all. As much as he wanted to keep his hands on her neck, feeling the warmth of her skin, the rhythm of her pulse, he now had no excuse.

"Much better. You'd have to be pretty close, to see what's left of the scars. And I'm betting nobody's getting that close to you any time soon," he said, pulling back his hands and sitting back on his heels.

"I have to go and see my Sword," she said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"What, now? Why? It's still there."

"I _have_ to," she said, her eyes pleading with him to understand. "Do you have any idea what it feels like to have part of your soul missing?"

"No," he lied. "So that's what the Sword does, is it? That's why you want it back so badly? It fills in the missing pieces?"

"Enough of them," she admitted, pushing herself up from her chair. "You can stay here if you like. Guard the room, though it'll be empty."

"No," he sighed, suddenly feeling like the lap-dog he had just accused Casavir of being. "It's pretty bad down there. I'll go and make sure you don't break the neck you've just healed by slipping on ice. Don't expect me to help you, though. If you can't make it down there alone then you shouldn't even be leaving this room."

"I'll make it alone. I always do," she said defiantly. "Where is my coat?"

He tested her strength by throwing the coat to her, and she managed to catch it without being knocked off her feet. It was a promising start, at least. Perhaps this newest round of Arvahn healing Ritual had cured more than the puncture wounds on her neck.

She made a good start out of the door, and walked confidently to the end of the corridor, nodding at Greycloaks who greeted her and thanking them for their well-wishes. But by the end of the second corridor her strength was clearly flagging, and she began trailing her hand along the smooth stone of the wall, for support in case she grew dizzy. He was just about to suggest turning back when an elderly voice called out.

"Ah, Captain! I was just on my way to see you," said Aldanon, apparently oblivious to her physical state. Which was pretty hard to be, since her skin was still paler than normal and purple shadows still clung to her eyes.

"Aldanon," she smiled, insinuating her arm around his and using him for support as they strolled casually towards the library. "Why don't we go inside and sit down and you can tell me exactly what you wanted."

_Clever wildcat,_ he thought to himself as he followed them into the Keep's library. It seemed somebody had been having fun with it; there was a fort of books in the centre of the room... probably Grobnar and Neeshka's doing, he decided.

As Kail and Aldanon discussed things he didn't care about at the old man's desk, Bishop strolled around the room, looking at the titles of the books around him. His lips curled into a snarl at any book that had 'Luskan' or 'Illusk' in its title, and the books about Neverwinter didn't bring a much better reaction from him. Most of the books were history books, with only a few magic books nestled between them. They probably belonged to Sand; Aldanon knew all about magic, he just didn't use it.

"Thanks Aldanon, I'll see you soon," said Kail from across the room. He chided himself for not paying closer attention, and followed the woman to the door.

"Are you sure you want to keep going, wildcat?" he asked, blocking her way with an arm across the doorway. She was forced to turn sideways to speak to him, her face so close to his that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin.

"I'm touched by your concern," she said, and he had absolutely no idea if she was being genuine or sarcastic.

"I'm not concerned, I just know I'm going to be the one who has to haul you back up to your Suite if you pass out on the way."

"I have to go. I'm so close that I feel like I could reach out and touch it. I know that I can't, I know that it will remain maddeningly out of my reach, but I still need to be near it, to let it know that I'm doing everything I can to free it from its cage," she said, her voice nothing more than a whisper.

He shivered at her words, a cold chill running down his spine. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to take her in his arms and tell her he knew exactly how she felt. But, like she had said, she was maddeningly out of his reach, unattainable to him, in his eyes. So he merely stood back and let her pass, knowing how much her heart ached for the weapon.

Somehow, they made it to the front door of the Keep. They were halfway there, with the hardest part of the walk still waiting. True to his word he had not lifted a finger to help her. But nor had he tried to hinder her. He wanted to see just how far she was willing to go for something she considered a part of herself. He would help her only if she asked for his help. He knew, from past experience, that trying to force his help on people only made things end badly. True, she was a Harborman, and would probably die before asking for someone to help her, but that was her choice.

"I can get you a stick, if you like," he suggested when he noticed the dread on her face as she took in the sight of all the snow that lay before on the path down to the tavern.

"I'm not an invalid," she said, her anger prickly.

"Maybe not, but you're hardly the healthiest person I've ever seen."

"That reminds me," she said, starting out on the slippery path down to the tavern. "Why hasn't somebody come to relieve you of your 'duty' yet? Why are you still watching me, when you've made it clear that I'm nothing but a burden to you?"

"Because this morning Neeshka took Grobnar, Khelgar, Sand and Ammon to Port Llast. Elanee's not in any state to watch over herself, much less you, and Casavir's too busy licking her toes to bother with you. You've shunned Zhjaeve, and do you really want _Her Highness_ watching your back?"

"Neeshka did _what_?" she asked, and he could see she was angry. It seemed to distract her from the pain, for a short distance. "Why didn't you tell me!?"

"Because she asked me not to."

"But I'm..." She cut off her words in mid sentence.

"What was that you were about to say, wildcat?" he asked as innocently as he could manage. "You're what now?"

"Nevermind," she sulked.

As they had reached their destination, he let the matter drop. It was, hopefully, the last time she would ever try to pull rank on him again. If not, he would just go back to calling her 'Captain'. She seemed to dislike that.

The first thing she did when she stepped inside the tavern was grab a stool from the bar and take it to sit in front of the Sword of Gith, staring at it almost reverentially for the better part of fifteen minutes. Then Sal reappeared with food for them both, and gestured towards a table.

Bishop had to admit; Sal's cooking was much better than what they made in the Keep's kitchen. Some of his dishes were Luskan, some were from Neverwinter, and some from far away lands that he obviously had never visited but had acquired recipes from all the same.

For a while he simply watched her eat, trying to judge how weak she still felt from how much she ate. Her appetite seemed somewhat diminished, but that wasn't really surprising. Then, she stopped halfway to putting a fork-full of baby carrots to her mouth, her eyes glazing over for an instant.

"What's wrong?" he asked, worried that her heart was giving out again.

"Just got a belated mental image of Casavir licking Elanee's toes," she said with a shudder. "Your mind is a truly disturbing place." She shoved the carrots in her mouth, chewing them with a wince.

"You're telling me," he chuckled. He'd been quite pleased with that one.

"How do you feel about a short question and answer period?" she asked.

"Depends on the questions. But if you want to go one for one, I _might_ give you some answers."

"Alright," she nodded, putting aside her plate of vegetables and reaching for some sort of trifle. "What did Neeshka do to make you sleep in my bed for three nights? I _know_ she blackmailed you somehow."

"You really don't want to know," he grunted.

"I really do. Otherwise I wouldn't have asked."

"Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you. She found a book that Casavir had been reading. Once of Aldanon's romance novels, apparently. And she read passages of it to me. Thus ensued horrible mental images that I would have given almost anything to stop."

"She blackmailed you with a _book_?"

"It was a very _bad_ book," he said levelly.

"What, the one with the heaving..."

"That's the one."

"Already read it," she shrugged, spooning trifle into her mouth. Then she gave him a mischievous smile that was worthy of Neeshka. "I thought it was rather tame."

He mulled over that for a while as Sal brought them another round of explicitly non-alcohol drinks.

"I know why _I'm_ sticking to water and juice," she said, pouring fresh apple juice for herself, "but you don't have to hold back because of me. Have wine or ale, if you like."

"I'd rather keep a clear head, just in case your late-night visitor comes back."

She nodded, the mirth disappearing from her eyes, her smile falling instantly from her face. He silently cursed his tongue. She had been briefly happy. She had been smiling, and now she wasn't. Why hadn't he just lied and said he wasn't in the mood for ale? Why had he engaged his brain too late, again, for it to catch his words?

"I think it was a question for a question?" he asked to change the subject. She nodded, and he racked his mind for something he could ask her. There wasn't really anything he wanted to know right now. He probably knew more about her, more about her life, than even Neeshka or Elanee did. Wolves had _very_ good hearing, and Bevil had also talked a lot about 'the good old days' of West Harbor.

He knew the names of her childhood friends and enemies. He knew the name of the man she had loved, what he was, and why he had left her. He knew the name of her real father, and where he had lived for some of his life. He knew the name of her mother, and how she had died. He knew about the man who had raised her, the elf called Daeghun, and he knew at least a dozen of Lucas' pearls of wisdom off the top of his head. He knew where she had played as a child, and the names others had called her when she lost control of her temper. He knew the name of her favourite song and her favourite dance. He knew what she liked to eat and he knew that she didn't like wine. He knew that she was the most stubborn woman that he had ever known, and she drove him wild in ways that frightened him.

"What were you doing, out in the forest alone?" he asked at last. It was the only question he could think of.

"I was on a vision-quest. A ritual devised long ago to allow dragon-disciples to... 'become one with their inner-dragon', or something like that."

"Did it work?"

"Is that another question?" she smiled.

"No, it's a sub-question."

"Then yes, it worked."

"What was it like?"

"Empowering," she said, closing her eyes. He watched the emotions flickering over her face; joy, happiness, bliss, longing, and, finally, back to sadness. "But I suppose that sort of power is fleeting. And it did nothing to help me when the vampires came. Any more sub-questions?"

"I suppose not."

"Then it's my turn again."

"Go ahead."

"What are you going to take from me?" Her voice was serious, her eyes watching him intently, and for a moment he was confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Before I left for Neverwinter, you said that you hadn't named your price yet because I didn't have anything worth taking. That you were waiting for me to find something that I wanted, and then you would take it from me." As she spoke, her eyes slid ever so slightly to the Sword of Gith, suspended on the wall in its magical cage.

"Ah, afraid I'll take your sword from you, like they did?"

"No," she said, her eyes holding sorrow he hadn't thought them capable of. "I'm not afraid you'll take the Sword. But I'm afraid that you'll _try_." The next instant the sorrow was gone from her eyes; they were colder than he had ever seen them before, empty, almost alien. "If you do, either I will kill you, or the Sword will."

It wasn't a threat. He had heard threats before, screamed at him by men he was torturing, hurled at him by those in his 'care' as feeble weapons against their captor. This was not a threat; it was a simple statement of the truth. Long ago, he had been given a similar such statement by the man who had broken his spirit. _'You__ will be losing blood'_. And just as he had lost blood, all that time ago, he knew that she would kill him in a heart-beat if he tried to take the Sword from her.

"Thanks for the warning. I won't try to take the Sword. As for what I _will_ take... I still haven't decided yet. To tell you the truth, if I haven't found a price to name before you find your way into the Claimed Lands, I'll probably just use my 'price' to bed you. After all, it won't be any use to me when you're dead."

She was silent for a moment, simply watching him. Any other woman would either have been offended to be claimed like a whore, or insulted by the insinuation that she wouldn't come out of the Claimed Lands alive. But not her. She had one of her bloody unreadable masks on again, her eyes betraying nothing.

"Sounds like a waste of a perfectly good 'price', to me," she said at last.

"Oh, I dunno. I figure you can make it worth my time."

"I'm glad you think so. It's your question."

"After you _do_ find your way into the Claimed Lands, how long are you going to stick around here for, after you've got rid of the King of Shadows?"

She looked around, making sure that nobody was around to hear her reply. It was a foolish gesture; the tavern was empty apart from them and Sal, and he had gone back into the kitchen to give them some privacy.

"I'm not coming back here, after I have dealt with him."

"Where will you go?"

"I... don't know," she admitted, hesitant about something for the first time all evening. "Wherever the wind takes me, I suppose."

"And here I thought you'd be straight back to Neverwinter, to visit dear Uncle Duncan," he said, his hand gripping his glass more tightly at the man's name.

"No, I'm not going back to Neverwinter either. Too many people recognise me. Nasher would drape me in titles and lands and chains. I think my fever is back, by the way."

He reached out, resting the back of his hand against her forehead for a count of ten.

"Yeah, you're burning up alright. I told you coming down here was a bad idea."

"I told you I could make it."

"Well you better hope you can make it back too."

"Not just yet. I need to speak to Startear first."

"The mage? What do you want with him?"

"I heard he's very powerful."

"And naturally, a powerful mage might be able to get your sword back. Keeping in mind that Sand has already tried and failed, and Neeshka twisted Her Highness' arm and got her to try too."

"I'll be back shortly," she said, pushing back her chair and slowly making her way to the door.

"No point in coming back here when you're done," he replied, grabbing his bow and following her.

Startear's tower was on the other side of the courtyard. There were no walls here, for her to lean against if she grew dizzy, nothing for her to grab hold of to steady herself again. He thought that it would be here, if anywhere, that she would give up. But she didn't, she kept moving, one slow, painful step at a time, her breaths coming deep and slow as she regulated her breathing. He suspected it was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life.

He had never seen a wizard's tower before, and it didn't really look all that different to Sand's shop. A man wearing black and silver robes was standing beside a table, pouring something from one glass tube to another. When he heard them enter, he put down the tubes and removed the gloves he was wearing. His eyes, that had a silvery sheen to them, matched his white hair, but his face was unlined and unwrinkled, as if he was possessed of unnatural youth.

"Startear?" Kail asked, standing straight before the man.

"Ah, you must be the Captain of this Keep. Allow me to express my gratitude for this fine place you have provided me." The man's silver eyes appraised Kail openly, almost undressing her with his gaze. Bishop tightened his grip on his bow, anger winding its way through his mind.

"You're welcome. But I've not come here for your thanks. I require your assistance."

"Oh?" the man asked, his eyes gleaming as he stepped closer to Kail. She refused to step back.

"I need something that can break through a magical barrier."

"I would need to know what sort of barrier this is."

"It is a barrier comprising of two spells, one divine and one infernal, that have been woven together to form a cage, inside which times does not pass."

"Hmm. I might have something that could work. But it is in a store room, back in Sigil. It will take my assistants some time to find and retrieve it. A few days, perhaps. And I will require... payment... for giving up such a valuable item."

Bishop fought back a snarl at the mage's mention of 'payment'. He wanted to step between the pair and put an arrow through the man's chest, but he knew Kail would be extremely displeased if he killed the wizard before she got what she wanted to free her sword.

"What sort of payment?" she asked, her voice calm.

"Not much. Say... a drop of your blood," Startear smiled.

"You must think me a fool," she said, her eyes flashing angrily for an instant. "I know that there is power in blood, and if you want mine you'll have to take it from my corpse." The anger in her eyes disappeared. "I have a counter-proposal for you."

"Go on."

"Give me what I need and I will allow you to stay here for six months rent-free."

"That isn't much of an incentive. Gold is not important to me. I come by it easily enough."

"Then I will also allow you to continue living."

It was almost laughable. Her threat lacked effort, it lacked anger, it lacked conviction. She had no weapon, she was weak and, right now, not physically threatening at all. But the way she spoke to casually, so coldly, about death, was chilling. It was like the statement she had made to him, when she had told him she would kill him if he tried to take her Sword.

"That seems a fair trade," Startear said at last, but the gleam had gone from his eye. "I will send a message to you, when I have the item."

She nodded and turned without another word, and he followed her from the store, laughing on the inside. That was one mage who would never try to push her around again.

Their progress across the courtyard was slow, the climb up to the Keep nothing more than a snail's pace. She managed to keep going until they entered the Keep, then she leant against the wall beside the door, sliding down it to sit on the floor. Her cheeks were flushed, her face covered with a sheen of sweat, and she panted for a few moments, her arms and legs trembling with exertion. He stood in front of her, his arms folded across his chest, looking down at her.

"Aren't you going to help me?" she asked after a few moments.

"No. I know how that one goes. I help you up, you play the stubborn Harborman card and say you don't need any help, and I don't even get a word of thanks for my effort."

"I don't do that," she frowned, and he snorted in amusement.

"Whatever you say, wildcat. I'll go and wait for you in your room." He took a step away from her. "I'm sure Kana or one of the Greycloaks will be along shortly to render assistance."

"Bishop, wait."

He stopped and halted a moment before turning back around. She looked deathly pale, sitting there on the cold marble floor with her eyes closed, her flushed cheeks giving her the false image of warmth.

"Will you help me get back to my room?" she asked.

She hadn't said 'please', but it was enough. He walked back to her, bent down, and offered her his arm. When she took hold of him, her grip much weaker than he had expected, he pulled her to her feet, putting a supportive hand on her back as she wobbled slightly.

"We need to go slowly," she said, swallowing and taking a small step forward, her arm still linked through his, allowing him to support her body.

He let her lead, setting a pace she could manage, and slowly they crossed the entrance room of the Keep, making their way towards the corridor that led deeper into the Keep, towards her suite.

"I... don't feel very well," she said, stopping and closing her eyes, taking a deep breath. Her fingers of her free hand sought the front of his shirt, her grip closing on the material as her legs gave way beneath her. Swearing silently, he bent down and scooped her legs in his arms, supporting her back with his other arm. When he stood up her head rested against his shoulder, and he felt the heat of her skin where her forehead touched his cheek.

He set off down the corridor with the woman in his arms. He _knew_ something like this would happen. He _knew_ that she'd push herself too far, push her body beyond what it could cope with. He'd tried to warn her and she'd ignored him.

_No_. She hadn't ignored him. She'd listened to him, heard his words, then gone ahead and done it anyway.

She stirred briefly in his arms, her fingers plucking at his shirt for a moment, curling together to hold onto the material as if afraid she would fall if she let go. He was afraid that they might encounter someone, on the way back to the Suite... Kana or Nevalle, or worse, Casavir. They would all blame him for this, accuse him of exhausting her. But, for a wonder, they met no-one, and when he returned to the Captain's Suite the fire was still burning, though it was now low.

Karnwyr raised his head from the bed where he lay and enquired about _Alpha's_ condition. He told the wolf that she was simply tired, and Karnwyr settled himself back down.

Here he was faced with a minor problem. The woman's fingers were wrapped around the laces of his shirt; to make her let go, he'd have to put her down and prise her fingers open. That would probably wake her, and it was something he was loathe to do now that she had finally fallen asleep again. Plus, he doubted she'd have the strength to get changed into her nightshirt alone. He'd probably have to help her undress. He'd have to touch her warm, bare body, smell the scent of her skin on his hands... it was bad enough that she was pressed closely against him now, fully clothed and wearing her coat.

His mind made up, he slid into the bed with her still cradled in his arms, and reached down for the blanket, pulling it over them before wrapping his arms around her again to hold her still. Leaning back against the head-rest, he reached up to her face, resting the fingers of one hand against her cheek, giving himself the excuse of monitoring her temperature. Inside his chest, his heart felt at ease, calmed by her nearness and the touch of his skin against hers. It had been a long time since he had held somebody in his arms -- at least, somebody he hadn't paid to be there -- and he had almost forgotten the pleasure of simple human contact.

o - o - o - o - o

_Kail stalked through the moonlit forest, all senses alert, her body tensed in anticipation. Her footfalls were silent as she passed beneath the trees like a ghost, leaving nothing but faint tracks behind her._

_ She was hunting with her pack; beside her walked another wolf that travelled on two legs, and in front of them was a wolf that stalked on four. Together, the three of them were moving ever closer to their quarry; a large goat that had wandered down from the hills in search of greener leaves._

_ Their skills complemented each other. The four-legged member of their pack had superior sight, hearing and smell. He could run for hours without tiring, and had fangs that could rend flesh and snap bone. The two-legged member of her pack saw what others did not, his eyes interpreting tracks and traces that would have made no sense to others. His fangs were sharp arrows that flew with deadly precision from the bow he carried with him at all times. Her own strength was her dogged determination to succeed, to always move forward, and the song that she howled at the moon that told the rest of her pack know where she was. Her fangs were sharp daggers that she wielded in each hand, striking swiftly to slash at her enemies._

_ They picked up the scent of their quarry and moved forward, trotting through the forest, silent killers who would chase their prey until it was exhausted. As she moved, she revelled in the hunt, in the strength that flowed through her supple, healthy body. Her heart beat to the rhythm of the land beneath her, her lungs filling and emptying at a steady rate._

_ She glanced at the other members of her pack, bathed in silvery light that was broken only by the shadows of the leaves in the canopy above. They too were thinking of nothing but the now, living for this moment, for this chase, this hunt, this kill. What came next was inconsequential. Now, they were alive._

_ She caught a glimpse of the goat, fleeing on the trail ahead of them, and they ran forward, closing the distance between them. Her two-legged companion strung an arrow on his bow, aiming and letting it fly even as he ran. It hit the goat on the hind-leg, and the animal slowed its speed. Immediately her four-legged pack member dashed forward, slashing at the creature's belly with his powerful teeth. He tore its skin open, exposing its stomach, and she took the opportunity to approach the creature and slit its throat with her dagger. Its bleats of fear were silenced as it fell to the floor._

_ The goat was butchered, picked apart piece by piece, and when they had taken what they wanted they left it behind for the scavengers. In silence, relishing their victory, they returned to their temporary den. It was a small cave they had occupied for some days, and in a few more days they would move on. They never stayed in one place for too long, always moving, always hunting, always cautious about encroaching onto other packs' territories._

_ Blankets awaited them on the floor of their cave, and a circle of stones that denoted the make-shift fireplace. As she got to work making fire, which was something her four-legged companion would never be able to do, the other two-legged wolf began cutting up the goat meat into smaller portions. They were speared on metal sticks with wooden handles, and wedged between the stones of the fire so that the meat could cook untended. But the four-legged wolf preferred his meat raw, so he ate while the others waited for theirs to cook, raw blood staining his grey jaws red._

_ When the meat was cooked they ate in companionable silence. Her eyes followed the moon as it tracked ever so slowly across the sky. When she was sated, and had drunk water from the canteen to wash the taste of food from her mouth, they settled down on the blankets, forming a small mound of bodies packed so close together that she could barely tell where hers ended and another began._

_ A fresh breeze brought the scent of dawn with it, and the four-legged wolf was the first to rise. He left the cave, seeking out a nearby river where he could drink his fill and snap at the fish that teased him alluringly beneath the water's surface._

_ The two-legged wolf stirred, moving closer to her to compensate for the missing warmth of their four-legged companion. She yawned and stretched her arms into the air, feeling every muscle tense in a wonderful way. A hand turned her face, and she found herself looking into the golden eyes of the wolf beside her. She smiled, feeling content at the world around her, at the approaching dawn, at the strength in her muscles as they relaxed, at the warmth of their bodies as they lay on the blankets. _

_ When he leant forward to kiss her cheek, his lips warm and soft against her skin, it was the most natural feeling in the world. In a playful mood, she pushed him down and straddled him, using her lips and teeth to tease along his jaw. He rolled his head back, allowing her to nip his chin and transfer the touch of her lips down his throat. For wolves, exposing the throat meant showing trust or submission. She didn't have to guess which it was for him; he wasn't at all submissive._

_ As if to prove the point, he took her in his powerful arms and rolled her onto her back, giving her the same treatment that she had given him. She trembled beneath his touch, her body squirming as she tried to close the gaps between them. A growl rose from her throat as his teeth found her earlobe and gently applied pressure. When his fingers moved to unbutton her shirt, she did not object. What were clothes but fur that could be worn and shed at will, after all?_

_ The pre-dawn air chilled her bare skin, a stark contrast to the warmth she had felt in the blankets only moments ago. But what did wolves care for a little cold air? The cold was temporary, a passing thing that would be warmed as the sun rose. Warmth, too, was temporary, diminishing as the sun sank below the horizon. Everything was temporary, even life. The only thing that was permanent was the bond forged between pack members, the bond that could survive even death. The bond that she now strengthened and renewed with her two-legged pack-mate._

_ They were two individuals, but together with their four-legged companion, they made one unit, one entity that was larger than themselves but incomplete if one of them was missing. As their bodies became one, united physically, she felt completeness of her mind and soul. She knew his body as intimately as she knew her own. Every mark, every scar, every freckle, could be visualised in her mind. The scent of his skin was indistinguishable from her own. Her fingers could trace every taut muscle in his body and know instantly where it belonged._

_ The sun was glimmering on the horizon when they lay their bodies down to rest. They lay curled together, his body cupping hers. He kissed the back of her neck as they rested, and she inhaled deeply, sighing with contentment. Her mind was still; she had no thoughts, no plans, no expectations. Today she was alive. She was with the one who completed her. As long as they had each other, they had no need for anything else._

_ Ignoring the sun that slowly began to warm her skin, she closed her eyes and dozed in his arms._


	88. The Challenge

_88. The Challenge_

Birdsong woke Kail, pulling her gently from sleep. The wolf-dream began to fade from her mind, but she could still remember what it felt like to run through the forest beneath the pale moonlight. She could still remember the taste of the kill, the warmth of the cave, and soft skin against hers.

Her fingers were tangled in something, and she flexed them as she opened her eyes. Strings were twisted around them, and she saw the collar of a shirt in front of her eyes. When she moved her fingers a body stirred beneath her, and she stopped her movement, freezing still. She tilted her head ever so slightly, and felt her forehead move against a warm, rough cheek.

For a few moments she lay there, counting his breaths, reassuring herself that he still slept deeply. That was good. She didn't want to have to deal with Bishop right now. Not after the dream that had been so real, so vivid, more so than any dream she had ever had before. She needed time to think about what it meant. She needed time to think things through. To assess the situation.

Something must have happened to her, when she was on the brink of death, running in the form of a wolf. The wolves must have done something to her, something to make the dream happen. Yes, that was it. The dream was a result of the wolves in the misty dream-place. It wasn't a dream of what _was_... a dream of what _may_ be, perhaps, but not necessarily what _would_ be. She had a choice, she knew, the same choice Karnwyr had offered to her in the dream-place. She could be part of their pack. She could make the dream become a reality. She could run with them, hunt with them, lie with them each night. But how did she truly _feel_ about making a decision like that?

In her dream she had been happy. More than happy. She had been content, at peace with herself in a way she had never been before. Even lying in Valear's arms had not brought her such peace. But what had been the source of that peace? Was it the simplicity of a life without care? A life of freedom and no restrictions, no expectations? Was it the feeling of belonging somewhere, of having somebody close to her, somebody with whom she could be herself? Or was it because of Bishop? What did she even _think_ of the man, when it came down to it?

Since the moment she had met him he had remained an enigma. She knew about the lives of those who chose to travel with her, who chose to make her cause their own. Of Bishop, she knew almost nothing. He had been born in the Mere, in Redfallows Watch, and had somehow become a soldier for Luskan. But he cared nothing for his former employers. In fact, he hated them. She knew that he was occasionally hired as a smuggler and a scout, but she had no idea who employed him and why. He had taken pity on a wolf-cub, forming a bond with Karnwyr, though he scorned weakness and compassion in those around him. His admirable qualities were few, and mainly related to his skills as a tracker. He was cold, arrogant and sarcastic, and he had made it clear more than once than he cared for little but himself.

But there was something about his contradictory nature that fascinated her. He mocked her, taunted her and teased her. His mood swings made her head spin. One moment he could be talking openly, the next he would shut himself off from her, throwing up a defensive wall to keep her out. Unlike Casavir, who was honest and straightforward, Bishop was completely unreliable. And yet, against her better judgement, she trusted him with her life. She wouldn't go so far as to trust him with the lives of _others_, but she sensed that he wouldn't hurt her. He'd had more than enough chances, after all.

He pushed her constantly, as if testing her limits, testing how far he could go with her. How far she would let him go. Lucas had told her to put Bishop 'in his place', but she didn't know what that place was, or how he would even react to it. So far she had not truly pushed back. She let him keep testing her, keep touching her, keep exploring exactly how much she would let him get away with. If she stopped that, if she finally told him 'enough', if she finally told him 'stop', would he even listen? She wasn't even sure, any more, if she wanted him to.

The worst part was... she actually _did_ enjoy his company. Whether he was merely sitting in silence with her, talking to her, or pitting his will against hers, nothing was ever certain when he was around. He was more unpredictable than the wind; being around him was like walking on a knife-edge ridge. Maybe it was simply his unpredictable nature that she liked. Maybe she simply liked the challenge of not knowing what he was going to do next, or when he was going to do it. Yes, that was what she enjoyed.

Even if there was more, which there wasn't, even if she _did_ enjoy the rare, brief touch of his hands, which she didn't, there could never be anything more than what already existed. Even if he wanted there to be more, which he obviously didn't, because he never followed through on any of his veiled promises and suggestions, she couldn't allow it. She had to defeat the King of Shadows. She would probably die doing it. It would be an act of cruelty to let him care for her, knowing that she would most likely not survive for much longer. No, she had to be hard and strong. She couldn't afford to let anybody near. Not now. Not when she was so close to completing her task. She could not afford any distractions. She had to be completely focused on her goal. It was the only duty she would ever have, and she needed to see it completed.

Now that her mind was made up, she was finally able to deal with him. Slowly, she untangled her fingers from the laces of his shirt but left her hand resting gently against his chest. The fact that he wasn't awake yet showed just how tired he was. Normally he was the first to rise in the mornings, long before anyone else awoke. He'd probably tired himself watching over her for the past two days and nights. She would let him sleep for as long as possible. She would let herself enjoy the feeling of his arms wrapped around her, the warmth of his body beneath hers, just this once.

She closed her eyes and drifted for a while on the edge of consciousness before sliding back in to true sleep.

o - o - o - o - o

When she woke again it was to the touch of fingers gently stroking her cheek. It appeared that Bishop was finally awake. Remembering her earlier thoughts, she closed her eyes, strengthening her resolve. Then she thought of the Arvahn healing Ritual, letting the cleansing energy wash over her body. The fingers on her cheek immediately stopped their stroking, disappearing from her face completely.

"So, you're finally awake," said Bishop, his voice rumbling inside his chest beneath her head. "I thought you were going to sleep all day."

"I suppose I tired myself out walking around the Keep yesterday," she said. "How's my fever?"

"Gone. For now. But I suppose you'll spend the day traipsing around and almost killing yourself again."

She pushed herself up, his arms releasing her as she moved, and shifted herself to the bed beside him. That was when she realised, with perhaps a small measure of relief, that she was still fully clothed. He hadn't even taken her boots off, nor his. No doubt he'd tracked icy water onto her bed, but she could over-look that. Clean sheets were easily come by, here.

Already she felt stronger. Not strong enough to go walking to the walls and back again, but certainly strong enough to sit and eat, and maybe discuss a few things with Kana and Nevalle and Veedle and Aldanon and...

She was aware that he was watching her as she ran over her mental 'to-do' checklist. Normally, his eyes carried a hint of what he felt. Anger, frustration, scorn, malice, amusement... now they showed her nothing. She recalled his words last night. _'If I haven't found a price to name before you find your way into the Claimed Lands, I'll probably just use my 'price' to bed you'_.

Was he thinking about it now? Was he considering claiming his price? What would she do, if he did? She would give him what he wanted, of course. She had promised no less, after all. But what if he didn't wait for her to find a way into the Claimed Lands? What if he named his price tonight, or tomorrow, or next week? A tiny part of her was thrilled with the idea; she quickly silence _that_ voice. The rest of her began to worry, ever so slightly. She hadn't cared, in the past, what his 'price' would be. It would be just typical of him to decide to call in his debt now, when she'd decided she didn't want him coming any closer.

But perhaps that would be for the best. If she could get him to name his price now, get it over and done with, she wouldn't have it hanging constantly over her head. She wouldn't have to worry about what he was going to spring on her and when. But... if he _knew_ that she wanted their debt cancelled quickly, he'd probably drag it out for as long as possible just to see her squirm. He _wanted_ to see her worry, to see her off-balance. For an instant she was angry with him for it, her fingers curling into her palms, her nails digging into her skin.

"Did you have the same dream I did, last night?" she asked, partially to distract her mind from its anger, partially to get it out in the open.

"I dunno... was that the one with the blonde from the Mask?" he grinned. She pursed her lips. He wasn't going to tell her. He was going to let her keep wondering. "What makes you think I'd have the same dreams as you?"

"Because Karnwyr was there," she said, trying to keep her voice even.

"Is that so?" he asked, glancing speculatively at the wolf lying on the bed. Karnwyr merely lolled his tongue in a canine laugh. "And what happened in this dream?"

"Pretty much the same as when I was... gone... from my body. Chasing stuff through the forest. Killing, eating, sleeping."

"He dreams about that stuff all the time," said Bishop dismissively.

"So... he can go into my dreams? Influence them, even?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because he's bonded to me. Not you. It's a two-way thing for life. It doesn't go three ways. Just two."

"But... he spoke to me. When I was dying."

"That's different."

"How?"

He sighed and sat up in bed, looking at the wolf for a few moments. They were having some sort of conversation, she realised. A conversation she could, if Bishop was correct, never be privy to. At last he turned back to her, shaking his head.

"When people sleep, a small portion of their minds go to the dream-place. When somebody dies, their soul passes from this world _through_ the dream-place and into the place that they go when they die. When I sleep, the bond between us remains intact, and he can follow me into my dream, and vice versa. But we remain connected to our bodies. We can't be harmed there, because we're only an echo of ourselves. But when a person is at the edge of death, their soul is physically in that place. He had to go there, in sleep, and find you. He couldn't follow you because there was no link back to your body to follow. He was able to show you things and manipulate your perception of your surroundings. But because he isn't bonded to you, he can't follow you into your dreams. Nor can he go to the dream-place and find you again when you sleep, because the echo of your soul would be far too weak for him to separate it from all the countless millions of other souls passing through there."

"You got all of that from him?" she asked, impressed.

"He was a bit more vague than that. I had to fill in the blanks and add a few words. If you dreamt him, you put him in your dream yourself."

"I see."

He moved closer to her, his face a few inches from hers as used his fingers on her chin to tilt her face up, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"Now, why do I get the feeling that's not the answer you wanted to hear?" he asked, his voice low.

Any answer she tried to form fled from her mind before it could reach her lips. His eyes, so close to hers, brought back her memory of the dream, invoking feelings of peace and longing, and she lost herself in the intensity of his gaze. Her fingers curled further, her nails digging further into her palms as her body tried to snap her mind out of its trance, but she ignored the pain, choosing instead to relive the moment of contentment and clarity from her dream.

A knock came from her door, and his gaze and touch were torn from her as he slid off the bed and went to the door. She had never noticed, before, how his every movement was silent and graceful, just as he had been when running through the forest in her dream. Even here, even indoors, he stalked like a wolf, alert and deadly. For a moment she wanted to be a part of it; she wanted him to be a part of her, to let down his guard and let her in. But the pain in her palms caused by her nails finally broke through her thoughts, and she captured them, pushing them down inside her as she had done inside the Guardian ruins on the edge of West Harbor. All that was left was her resolve to see her task completed.

He opened the door to admit Daeghun. The elf was dressed in his leather armour and his boots were caked with snow. He simply watched her with his unfathomable green eyes, waiting. And she knew what he was waiting for. She stood, smoothing her coat with her hands.

"Bishop, will you give us a moment alone?" she asked, not taking her eyes from her father. There was movement, behind him, and the sound of the door closing. Then she waited, for her father to speak.

"I am sorry I could not come sooner," he said, though she could detect no regret in his voice, and suspected his words were merely an empty gesture, a courtesy that he was giving her. "I have been out tracking the movements of the remaining vampire who attacked you."

"What have you learnt?" she asked, not wanting to know, but needing to.

"I followed its trail almost all the way back to the Mere. I believe your friends managed to scare it sufficiently that it will not attack again, not without far greater numbers, at least."

"We need to find it and kill it."

"Following it into the Claimed Lands would be a fool's errand. For now, it is back in the place where it is strongest, and it is no more threat to you at present."

"There is a vampire out there that is hopped up on my blood," she said, narrowing her eyes. "The blood of the Lord of Murder. The blood of a god. I can't imagine any good coming of it."

"That does not change the fact that it is out of our reach. Now, I am told that your journey to seek out the Circle of Meredelain did not go well?"

"You have been told right."

"It is a shame that you could not save the Circle. They would have made valuable allies."

"They were corrupted long before I ever reached them," she said defensively. He would _not_ lay the blame for this on her!

"And how do you feel now, about being kept away from your Sword?"

"The same as I did before. I feel empty. Like a part of me is missing."

"You cannot become reliant on material objects to fill the holes within you," he said firmly. "Nor can you allow other people to make you feel incomplete. You are an entire person. You do not need others to have substance and worth."

"Really?" she said, and for a moment she was furious with him for judging her, for trying to tell her how to live her life. Then, suddenly, she understood what he was trying to do. He was trying to protect her, to keep her from making the same mistakes he had.

According to Georg, Daeghun had once loved his wife, Shayla, with all his heart. After she died, it was almost as if he was a different person. He seemed hollow, as if all the life within him had died with his beloved. That was why he had taught her to be self-reliant, why he had taught her to have faith in her own skills and abilities, and not require others to exist, to live. He had never approved of her relationship with Valear, and for all the wrong reasons. She had been fifteen, little more than a child, and he could count decades. Still a child, by elven standards, but far older than she. Their age difference had never bothered Daeghun, but he seemed not to like her loving someone, having someone to care for, and to care for her. It had been a sore point between them, when Valear had left his tribe to travel to Myth Drannor, and it was, partially, the reason why she had almost burnt their house down accidentally with dragon-fire.

"I know," she said at last, her anger evaporated with her new-found understanding. "And I'm doing the best that I can. But I _need_ people. I need allies, in this. If I send everybody away I will have nobody to fight beside me, and I will die. The Sword is a part of me, in the same way that my limbs are a part of me. And now it feels like a limb has been chopped off."

He studied her for a moment, and she returned his scrutiny. Her world had just been rocked. She had always considered her father a wise man. She had always thought he was right about everything, and that he knew best. Now, she knew better. He didn't know best. All he knew was his own way. He was no longer the large, imposing, omnipotent figure she had considered him before. Now she saw him for what he really was; a man who was trying his best to raise a child not his own. A man who sometimes struggled, and tried to teach her what he thought was best. His way was not the only way. From now on he would be able to advise her, to suggest things to her, but he would no longer be able to shape and mould her, like a stone-mason shaping stone. She was her own person, now. She had left home and she had grown. She had her own thoughts, her own ideas, her own desires, and they did not necessarily mesh with his. And she did not need his approval.

"I will attempt to retrieve your Sword for you," he said at last.

"What? How?"

"I will reason with the githzerai."

"Thank you. I appreciate your concern, though I believe your attempt will be futile."

"Nevertheless, I shall try."

She nodded and he turned to the door, resting his hand on the handle for a moment before turning his head to look at her again.

"I also hear that you are not sleeping alone, these days."

What could she say? She could either deny it, in which case she would have to explain that Bishop stayed in her room because she was afraid to be alone, afraid that the vampire would return and finish its job, or she could confirm it, in which case he'd think she was being weak and reliant. Then, a third option presented itself. One that she would not have had the gall to take, in the past.

"Who I do or do not sleep with is no concern of yours," she said. He nodded.

"There comes a time when every fledgling must leave its nest," he replied. "On that day, its parents cannot help it. It must jump, and hope it remembers how to fly before it hits the ground. If it does not leave its nest, it will slowly starve, and then be left alone when its parents move on."

He left the room, closing the door behind him, and she was left wondering what he meant. Was that his way of giving his approval, or his condemnation? Was it a metaphor for something? Was she supposed to draw parallels between the fledgling and herself? She still had no idea what he meant when Bishop returned to the room.

"Heard the two of you had a falling out a few days ago," he said.

"We just made up. Now, I think I'd like to have some breakfast, a bath, and speak to Elanee. Will you ask one of the Greycloaks to arrange it?"

"That sounded a little _too_ much like an order," he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Well, I _am_ the Captain of Crossroad Keep," she said, fighting a pang of regret as she threw up the wall between them.

"Very well, Captain," he said, his voice scornful. He gave her a mock bow and left the room to find someone to pass the message onto. She turned back to the bed and found herself looking at Karnwyr, who was looking back. Then she turned away from him too, not liking the knowing look in his wolf eyes.

o - o - o - o - o

Kail lowered herself into the bath, the heat of the water slowly loosening her muscles. Servants had filled the tub in her room whilst she ate her breakfast, then she had ordered Bishop out and jumped straight into the bath. She had spent the last two days sweating with fever, and now she needed to feel clean again.

It didn't take long for someone to knock on her door, and when Elanee popped her head around the frame, she gestured the elf in.

"How are you feeling?" Elanee asked as she brought a chair from the bed to sit beside the tub.

"Better than I was, but still weak," she admitted. "I went down to the tavern yesterday and it tired me out. I'm going to take it easy today... stay in the Keep and get lots of rest."

"That sounds like a wise idea."

"How are you doing? Are you still struggling to sleep?"

"Yes, but I do not feel as troubled as I once did, and I was able to enter reverie for a few brief moments last night. I think that... now I know the fate of the Circle, it is as if a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I felt so much guilt over leaving the Mere... I blamed myself for their disappearance. I kept thinking that if I had just been there I might have been able to make a difference. Now I know that, had I been there, I would have been corrupted along with the Elders. I would be dead, now. Everything happens for a reason, I believe, and there must be a reason why my path crossed yours, why I am here now to aid you against the King of Shadows."

"You truly believe that everything happens for a reason?"

"Yes."

"But who decides that reason? The gods? Some unknown force that we call 'fate'? Or something else?"

"I am not sure. But I still believe it. And I have faith that we will be victorious, that we will succeed in our goal to eliminate the King of Shadows. You have given me back my faith, and for that I thank you."

She was silent as she contemplated Elanee's words. If the elf was right, if everything _did_ happen for a reason, then nothing that had happened since she had been born had been by chance or accident. There was a reason why the Sword of Gith had been taken from her, and she would get it back when the time was right. There was a reason why she had been almost killed by vampires draining the life from her. There was a reason why she had dreamt of herself as a wolf, and a reason why she had dreamt of Bishop the way that she did.

But... what if Elanee was wrong? What if there was no reason for any of it? What was fate, after all, but a way of excusing your failings? No. As much as she would like to believe that everything was happening to some sort of grand design, that there was a pattern to all of this madness called life, she just couldn't allow herself to believe it. She had free choice. She had a will of her own. Her future was in her own hands... it had not been pre-determined. Otherwise, there would be more successful prophets and soothsayers. Shaundakul himself had told her that not even gods could see that far.

"You are troubled," said Elanee softly.

"I've always been troubled," she smiled. She couldn't burden Elanee with her own musings, her own problems. "But tell me, how are things with Casavir?"

"Wonderful, given the circumstances," Elanee smiled, her face glowing for once.

"I'm glad to hear it. And I'm glad that you have each other. If you need any advice, don't hesitate to ask."

"Advice?" the druid asked skeptically.

"You know, the whole elf-human relationship thing... I've been there myself."

"Thank you, I... appreciate the gesture. But I am not Neeshka, to gossip about such things."

"I guess not. By the way, I'm sorry about what she did to you. If I'd known where she was keeping you I would have let you out right away."

"I no longer bear her any grudge. In a way, I am glad for what she did. She forced me to confront and admit my feelings. I had been burying them and hiding them for so long that it felt good to finally come clean and admit them. I have learnt, now, that there is no point in hiding. If I get hurt, I get hurt, but they do say that it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all."

"Sometimes I think 'they' don't have a clue about what life is really like," she scowled. "But I'm happy that you're happy."

"But you are not."

"Nothing has changed," she sighed, moving her hands below the surface of the water, watching the ripples that formed around it. I thought doing the Rituals of Arvahn would make things right. I thought getting into Jerro's Haven would make things right. I thought reforging the Sword of Gith would make things right. All I have to show for my efforts is one dead friend and a Sword that I can't wield."

"I am sorry about what happened to the Sword. If I could have stopped them from sealing it away from you, I would have. But, like you, I was unconscious when we returned. They acted so swiftly that nobody knew what they were doing until it was too late. I think it was the only thing they have ever truly agreed on."

"I don't blame you. I don't blame anybody but them, and myself. I trusted them. I forgot that people have their own agendas, and that their agendas are often hidden from view. I won't be making the same mistake again. It is clear to me, now, that I can trust nobody but myself."

"Please, do not allow their actions to make you lose faith. Some of us are trustworthy. Some of us have no ulterior motives."

"Thank you. I know that you believe what you say. And don't worry about me. I'll get my Sword back. I'll use it to defeat the King of Shadows. Nobody will stop me from accomplishing my goal."

"Would you like me to send Casavir in, after you are finished with your bath? He can heal you... I _know_ that you need it."

"No. I'm healing myself, slowly. It's something that I have to do on my own. If you don't mind, I'd like to be alone with my thoughts for a while."

"Of course. Just let me know if you need anything. And try not to blame yourself for what happened to Shandra, and the Sword. None of it was your fault."

When Elanee had gone, she submerged her head beneath the water, closing her eyes and washing her hair. Then she surfaced, resting her head back on the side of the tub as she thought over Elanee's words, and those of her father before her.

If Daeghun could be nothing more than a man struggling, making mistakes, occasionally getting things wrong, then what about everybody else? She had always looked up to and respected Lucas. She had always respected the lessons he had taught her, the values he had instilled in her. But what if his way was wrong, too? What if everything she had ever believed, the foundations of who she was, were naught but a result of men trying to do what they thought was best and getting it wrong?

It wasn't an easy train of thought to follow. Questioning her beliefs, and who she was, was something Zhjaeve would probably not approve of. The githzerai wanted her to _know_ herself, not to question herself. But she couldn't help it. The world had suddenly got a lot bigger. She had flown above it on the wings of a dragon, and run through it on the legs of a wolf. And now nothing would ever be the same again.

o - o - o - o - o

Throughout the day, she did not push herself. She ate plenty and drank water often, conserving her strength. Right now, her fast recovery was the most important thing in the world. In the past she had rarely showed concern for her own safety and well-being. Now she knew that she had to. She had to take her health into her own hands, because she could trust nobody else with it. And she had to get better as fast as possible. She had to get back into the fight.

She spent some of the day in her office. She met with Kana, then Nevalle, then Veedle, and finally Aldanon. She kept each meeting relatively brief, never pushing them for longer than half an hour, and in between her meetings she ate and drank, keeping up her strength.

Though Bishop always remained nearby, never hovering too far from her, never letting her leave his sight, the barrier that she had put up between them seemed to have had some effect. He was wary, now. For the past two days she had let him nearer to her than he had ever been before. She had let him touch her, guard her and help her. Now she had all but told him that she didn't need him for any of it anymore. She could understand his confusion, and if he resented her for it... well, she could understand that too. But it was better this way. It was better that he stay away from her, not let himself get entangled in her problems... in her life.

When she didn't turn up in the tavern that evening, Sal was kind enough to send up some food for her instead, and she ate in her office as she went over Kana's latest report of the Keep's funds. Kana had been pleased that Kail had given up the foolish notion of going to Port Llast, and as a result she had been allowed to read some reports. And they were quite promising, too. She had more money than she realised at her disposal, despite the gold she had funnelled into training and arming the Greycloaks for war. With Startear's rent, plus money coming from the monastery, which Veedle had informed her would be completed as soon as the snow passed, she would be on good financial standing.

The sky darkened and the hour grew late, and Kail finally began to feel tired. Not the sheer, physical exhaustion that she had felt the day before, but tired enough to make her want to lie down and sleep for a solid twelve hours. Of course, twelve hours of sleep was a luxury she simply couldn't afford, but she would make the most of what she had.

Bishop followed her back to her room, his bow still in his hands. He seemed to see danger in every shadow. He tensed at the smallest sounds, ready to strike out. Whilst she admired his dedication, she knew that Daeghun was right. She couldn't allow herself to become reliant on Bishop's protection. She had already become used to his company. She already savoured his touches. She was slowly beginning to crave closer contact. Being around him made her weak. It was weakness she could not afford right now.

"I would like you to leave me, now," she said as she stopped outside her Suite. Surprise registered on his face. Obviously, he hadn't been expecting this. It was for the better.

"Are you sure that's wise, Captain?"

"Every decision I've made since leaving my home has not been wise. But that hasn't stopped me in the past, and it won't stop me now."

"And if your toothy friend decides to come back?"

"I can't stay afraid for ever. I have to face my fear, to master it, or it will master me. I have to learn to fly, and you are stopping me from doing that. You can't protect me from everything."

"I can't protect you, or you won't let me?" he scowled darkly.

"Both."

She watched his eyes for a moment. He was angry. She could see it plainly. She should have been melting on the spot with the heat of his anger. But beside the anger were other emotions; sadness, fear, and most of all, hunger. He reminded her of the vampire man who had stepped into the moonlight, showing himself for what he was. Only, where in the vampire's eyes had been a cold, calculated hunger, in Bishop's eyes was a raw, violent hunger, like a starving wolf. She decided it was finally time to put him in his place. It was time to call his bluff.

"If you want to come into my room, you can," she said calmly. "But you leave your bow in your room. And your knives and your armour. You can share my bed and hold me in your arms. You can teach me a new song, if you like. You can give me your companionship, but I don't need your protection."

He moved swiftly, stepping forward and pushing her backwards roughly with one hand, so that her back was forced against her door, his body all but pinning her in place. She felt a moment of fear as he bent his head towards her neck. She had gone too far, and at the wrong time. She should have confronted him when she was recovered, when she had full use of her strength. Right now, she knew that there was nothing she could do. Anything she tried would be feeble, and would probably anger him further. So she merely stood there, looking down the corridor, hoping nobody would come because they would see her with no control over the situation. And as she stood, she tried not to tremble as his breath warmed her neck at the place where, very recently, her blood had come pouring out.

"I would sooner spend a night in Nevalle's bed than yours, wildcat," he growled in her ear.

"Then I have no use for you," she snarled back, letting her anger grow to overwhelm her fear.

She was weak and unable to defend herself. But she couldn't let him see that. It was how wolves worked, she knew. If she showed fear, if she allowed him to see that he was frightening her, he would never listen to her again. He would walk all over her. It was how wolves fought for dominance. They growled and snarled and threatened each other. Unless one of them backed down, they fought. And when that happened, one died or was driven out. But she would never, ever back down.

Just when she thought she would have to tell him to back off, and test if he would actually obey, he pulled himself away from her and whirled down the corridor with Karnwyr a pace behind. She reached behind her for the door handle, and didn't turn her back until she was inside her room. With a shaking hand she bolted the door and leant back on it for support.

What would have happened had he not backed down? How would their impasse have ended? Would he have attacked her? Would he have killed her? She knew only one thing; she had scorned him. She told him that she had no use for him. She had taken away the tenuous trust that existed between them. From now on he would do everything he could to make her life difficult. He would question her publicly and try to ridicule her publicly. He would undermine her in every way that he could. And, at some point, he would challenge her again. And it would end in violence.

o - o - o - o - o

Bishop slammed the door of his room closed behind him, his mind fuming with anger. It ran through his veins, boiling his blood, turning his vision red. He was furious with himself for challenging her. He was furious with himself for stepping down. But most of all, he was furious with her, for every word she had uttered from her mouth.

_'If you want to come into my room, you can'_. Not 'I _want_ you to come into my room', but 'You _may_ come into my room', 'I will _allow_ you to come into my room'. It was the last thing he had ever wanted to hear.

He shouldn't have over-reacted. He shouldn't have refused her. If he'd just agreed to her terms he would be with her now. He'd be inside her room, kissing her, holding her in his arms, feeling her warm lips on his skin, undressing her slowly, layer by layer. In fact, he would go back there right now and tell her he'd changed his mind. It would be worth it to see the look on her face.

He went to the door, opened it, then closed it and turned back to his bed. Her last words still stung. _'I have no use for you.'_ As if he was good for nothing! Hadn't he helped her track down the farm-girl? Hadn't he led her into the Mere, to find the tree-huggers? Hadn't he allowed his own companion to follow her to the edge of death to bring her back? Hadn't he spent three days keeping watch over her whilst she rested? Hadn't he kept her warm when she was cold? And this was the thanks he got?

"This isn't funny," he growled when he sensed amusement from Karnwyr.

_Of course it is. It's the job of any alpha to assert their strength and will over their pack._

"She's not part of our pack."

There was silence from the wolf, and Bishop turned his thoughts back to Kail. She had never lost her temper with him before. She had always reacted to him coolly, even arrogantly, twirling her little knives, using her sharp mind and acid tongue to attack and defend. Never before had she behaved this way. Never before had she growled threats at him. Never before had she pitted her strength and will against his. At least, not like this. Only through words, and indirect actions. Never directly, never forcefully.

He knew, then, that he would never be free of her. At some point she'd grow to resent his presence, resent him not bowing down to her. He could leave, but that would be running away. He was _not_ going to be driven away by a woman.

He wanted to hurt her. Once he had thought that he could break her. Now he knew that he couldn't. But he could hurt her. He should have done it in the very beginning. He knew plenty of ways to hurt people. He would hurt her until she begged him not to.

But... then where would he be? What would he do with a broken woman, who cowered before him and was afraid to meet his eyes? He would enjoy hurting her, but it wouldn't actually get him anywhere.

He would have to kill her. But... how? When he tried to think of ways, his chest began to hurt, his heart feeling like it was being squeezed in a vice. As angry as he was with her, he knew he wouldn't be able to go through with it. He would break at the first sign of tears in her eyes. He would take her in his arms and kiss her and never let go. He should just go and do that now. He should go and tell her he was sorry and then show her how sorry he was. It wouldn't hurt him to say sorry, for once. He hadn't been able to say it to the last woman that he cared about and let down.

He went to the door, then stopped with his hand on the handle. Perhaps he could kill her in self-defence. Yes. That was something he _could_ do. When it came down to her life or his, he would choose his every time. If she attacked him, if she tried to kill him, then he could kill her to save his own life.

But how could he get her to fight him? Right now she was still recovering. She wouldn't allow herself to be goaded into anything until she felt stronger. And if she went back to being all cool masks and controlled temper he wouldn't be able to anger her enough to force her to try to kill him. Obviously, he needed to do something drastic. He needed to find a way to make her so angry with him that she wanted to kill him.

He would have to bide his time, to wait for an opportunity. In the mean time, he couldn't let her think him cowed. He couldn't let her think him submissive or she would get suspicious. For now he would have to keep up the act. He would have to keep pushing her. Eventually she would slip up, and when she did, he would be there to exploit it. She would attack, he'd be forced to kill her, then he'd be free of her forever.

It felt freeing, in a way, to finally have a plan.


	89. The Small Things

_89. The Small Things_

"Remind me again why we're doing this," said Sand. He was shivering quite violently, a blanket wrapped around him and clutched closed at his chest by a pale, long-fingered hand.

"Because we want to form an alliance with the Wendersnaven, of course!" said Grobnar. The elf turned his questioning gaze to Neeshka instead.

"Because we're Kail's friends and we want to save her some time and the effort of coming here herself," she said.

"I still don't understand why _I_ need to be here," Ammon grumbled. He didn't look as cold as Sand did, but she knew he was feeling the effects of the weather. His skin had a decided blue tinge to it.

"Because," she said patiently, going over what she had already told him countless times, "you're the only one with any real experience of powerful planar creatures, and if by some random act of kindness on behalf of a god we _do_ actually find the Wendersnaven, your wisdom and experience will be invaluable in forging an alliance with them."

It was, of course, a complete and utter lie, but as far as lies were concerned, it was a good one. She hoped that taking Ammon or Zhjaeve away from Crossroad Keep would weaken whatever magic was holding the Sword of Gith in its cage. And since Zhjaeve had point-blank refused to leave the Kalach-cha, even when she was forbidden from seeing her, Neeshka had been forced to twist Ammon's arm instead.

"I can't feel me toes anymore," said Khelgar. "Or me head!"

"Don't worry, it's still there. I'll tell you if it drops off," she replied.

The weather had not been in their favour as they had travelled slowly north-west. Though it had stopped snowing soon after they left the Keep, the temperatures had remained low, and the snow had barely melted at all. She led the way, or sometimes Ammon did, carving a path through the snow for the shorter folk behind them. Sand led their pack-horse, at the rear of the group, which carried food and camping equipment. It took them an hour to set up the tents and ground-sheets every night, and an hour to pack them away each morning. But it was better than sleeping directly on the snow, exposed to the freezing air.

"Look, there is Port Llast... at last, if you'll pardon the pun," said Sand, pointing ahead to something further along the trail. All she could see was darkness and fog.

"I don't see it," she replied.

"Of that I've no doubt. But it is there, trust me. We can't be more than a mile or two away."

"I just hope the Alliance Arms Inn has enough room fer all of us," said Khelgar.

"Right now I'd settle for sleeping in a stable."

"We won't have to sleep in a stable, I'm sure," she reassured the elf. "After all, we're close friends of the hero of Neverwinter, who also happens to be the Captain of Crossroad Keep. In a place like Port Llast, we're practically royalty. I'm sure Falgor will be falling over himself to find us rooms."

"I'm not sharing with the gnome," said Ammon.

"Maybe we should have brought Mister Pointy," said Grobnar, seemingly oblivious to Ammon's hostility. "This would have been something new for him to experience. Imagine how much he'd enjoy the local charm!"

"What I'm going to enjoy most is the local ale," said Khelgar.

They walked in silence for a while, each of them concentrating on trying to stay warm. It was harder than it looked. Snow looked good and solid on the outside, but it was really just frozen water. It clung to clothes and it melted, wetting clothes and bodies alike. And although she loved Kail like a sister, she was _really_ beginning to regret volunteering for the mission.

At last she saw what Sand had been seeing all along; lights in the fog, bathing the area around them in an eerie yellow light. He was right... they'd finally reached Port Llast. And it had only taken them four days. In good weather, they could have made it in two.

The cobbled streets of the town were empty as they approached, the only sound their horse's dull hoofbeats, muffled by the snow beneath their feet. Obviously, all of the _sane_ people were already in their homes, in front of their warm fires, with a hot meal and a glass of mulled wine, maybe a nice hot bath and a water skin filled with boiling water and placed in the bed to warm it.

She let her imagination run away with her as she led the way to the Alliance Arms Inn. At first the stable appeared empty, but they found a groom sleeping in a deep pile of straw, and Khelgar kicked him until he woke up. For a silver coin he unpacked their horse and led it into the stable for a well-deserved meal, and they carried their equipment into the inn itself.

The owner of the inn was behind his small table near the entrance, and, as she expected, his face lit up the moment he saw them enter.

"Why, if it isn't the friends of Kail Farlong!" he smiled, gesturing them in and clicking his fingers for the boys to come and take their bags. She recognised one of them, but before she could say anything to him, Falgor was leading them into the common room and seating them in front of the fire, asking them how their journey had been. She let Grobnar answer as she scanned the room for familiar faces.

Calindra, the ore merchant who Kail had spoken to here, was now at Crossroad Keep, being paid a regular wage to explore and mine the ore deposits that they came across on their journey... and Grobnar graciously identified. Of the man who had once told tales about the destruction of Ember, there was no sign. Nor was there any indication of Malin, the ranger who had advised Kail about the troubles in the Duskwood.

"I can give you rooms for the night," Falgor said at last, "but I only have three left."

"Dibs on one of them for myself," she said quickly, before anyone could get a word in edgewise.

"Hey, wait a minute!" said Khelgar. "How come ye get a room to yerself?"

"Girl's prerogative," she smiled. "Besides, would you _really_ trust me in a room with all your stuff?"

"Huh. I see yer point. Well, I'm with Ammon, then."

"Yay!" said Grobnar. "By process of elimination, that means you and I will be bunking together, Sand!"

"Oh, marvellous."

"Falgor," she said, "that boy I saw earlier... was that Marcus?"

"Aye, it was indeed," smiled the innkeeper. "I let him stay on here after the trial in Neverwinter. It's not like he had anywhere else to go. Mostly he helps out in the kitchen."

"Could I speak to him for a moment? I'd like to catch up and see how he's doing."

"Sure. He'll be through there, helping the cook."

The innkeeper nodded to a door, and she thanked him, leaving the fireside and its wonderful, warming heat. When she reached the kitchen door she pushed it open by an inch to peer inside. Marcus was there, in front of a fire, turning the handle of a spit that held a haunch of slowly roasting meat. Her mouth almost watered at the sight of it, but she ignored it and slipped into the room. Even though Falgor had given her permission to be here, the urge to slink and hide in shadows was strong. Probably because she associated kitchens with Sal. He guarded his kitchen in the same way that Aldanon guarded his library. Or, rather, the Keep's library. He just thought of it as his.

Marcus looked up at her with his eerie black eyes even before she had made any sound. As far as children went, he was pretty creepy. Then again, she'd been described as pretty creepy herself before now. It was all relative, really.

"Hey, Marcus. You remember me, don't you?" she asked with a smile, squatting down on the floor in front of the boy.

"Sure. You're Kail's friend."

"That's right. I just wanted to ask how you are, and how they're treating you here."

"I like it just fine. I mainly help out in the kitchen, but sometimes Falgor likes me to be out in the common room when new folks arrive. Then I can tell him which ones are going to tip badly or cause trouble, and then he can throw them out early."

"I hope he doesn't work you too hard."

"No, not really. I get a room to myself, though. And he even bought me some shoes," the boy smiled, holding up his legs to display the shoes on his feet.

"That's great. I'm glad you're happy here. Have you had any more of your visions, lately?"

"No. But I think your friend Kail might be in danger."

"What makes you say that?" she asked, unease creeping into her heart.

"The last time I saw her, she was surrounded by darkness, like a great maw was trying to swallow her."

"Ah, that. Yeah, we sorta... know about it already. But thanks for warning me. I'll be getting back to my friends now, but we're staying here for the night, so if you need anything, just let me know."

"Thanks. I'll be okay, though. It's not me you need to be worried about."

She left the strange child and returned to the common room, finding her companions seated at a table with food impending. Sliding into the empty chair beside Grobnar, she took a sip of the delicious mulled wine that was waiting for her, then let out a contented sigh.

"Marcus is fine," she told Khelgar and Grobnar.

"Who?" Ammon asked.

"A boy with a remarkable talent for seeing the truth," Sand explained. "We've had... some association with him, in the past."

"Basically, Garius sent a bunch of assassins to slaughter everyone in Ember, and he survived by hiding down a well," she summed up. "Then he testified against Luskan in Kail's trial in Neverwinter."

"And you allow the boy to stay here? Such talents must be carefully nurtured and encouraged to grow, not left to waste in some back-water tavern."

"Right. I mean, you did _such_ a good job with your own family that you should totally be given control over everybody else's."

"Didn't you bring me along for my 'experience' with such things?"

"Where the Wendersnaven are concerned, yes. Where kids who've seen villages slaughtered are concerned, no. You just concentrate on the King of Shadows and leave the rest of it to us."

"Bah, barkeep!" Khelgar shouted. "Where's our food?"

Falgor finally brought out their meals, setting them down on the table. Khelgar tucked in immediately, leaving Sand, sitting next to him, with a combined look of horror and admiration on his face.

"Innkeeper," said Ammon before Falgor could withdraw. "I wish to speak to the boy. Marcus. Please send him out."

"I don't remember you being around last time," said Falgor suspiciously.

"He's fine," Neeshka assured the man. Then, when he had disappeared into the kitchen, she narrowed her eyes at Ammon. "What do you want with Marcus? I told you to leave him alone!"

"I want to see his skill with my own eyes. After that I'll leave him be. You have my word."

Marcus came out from the kitchen and made his way to their table, his eyes still with an unnatural calmness.

"Marcus," she said, holding out her hand for the child. He took it, and she gestured to Ammon. "This man is called Ammon Jerro. He is a friend of Kail's, too. Could you look at him closely, and tell him what you see?"

"I see you caged," said Marcus. His voice sounded hollow, as if the words were merely passing through his lips with no feeling or emotion behind them. "Hundreds of demons surround you, punishing you for what you made them do. But nothing they do to you can compare to the punishment you force on yourself for harming your kin."

"Anything else?" she asked. Ammon merely watched the boy. If he was uncomfortable with what Marcus said, he didn't show it.

"I see you throughout the years, wrapped in a cloak of darkness that you wear to protect yourself. Each time you don it you forget, a little bit, who you are. Your will is strong and hard like iron, but unless you can learn to bend and flex, you will not weather the storm. It will overwhelm you, and you will lose yourself in the shadows, in the darkness."

"Thank you, Marcus," said Ammon. "I've heard all I need to hear."

"What a remarkable child," Sand mused when the boy had returned to the kitchen. His picked up a grape from his dish and popped it into his mouth. "And accurate, too. He saw right through Lorne and Torio, during the trial. Just out of curiosity, have you bought any cloaks of darkness, recently?"

"The boy obviously has some talent," Ammon grudgingly admitted. "He must have been born to it, and developed his gift over some time."

"Yes, it's really quite fascinating," said Grobnar, stifling a yawn. "Oh, I say, I'm much tireder than I thought I was. I think I'll call it a night and get myself some sleep. We'll be leaving bright and early tomorrow, after all."

"Not _too_ early, I hope," said Khelgar. He was already on his third ale.

"The sooner we're up and gone, the sooner we'll be back in Crossroad Keep," she pointed out.

"Hmph. Wake me at dawn, then."

Grobnar left for bed, and they finished eating their meals in silence. Then Ammon went upstairs too, no doubt to claim the biggest room left, but she didn't mind. Compared to the small, shared dormitory she had lived in as a child, having a room to herself, even a tiny one, was a luxury.

"We shouldn't have left the Keep, ye know," said Khelgar at last. "If that vampire comes back fer Kail..."

"It would be stupid to try," she assured him. "The Keep's on full alert. Casavir and Zhjaeve are there to heal her."

"Oh, that's reassuring," said Sand dryly.

"And Bishop's keeping an eye on her."

"Again..."

"Look, you two can stay down here and be the voices of doom and gloom all you like. I'm going to bed, to make the most of this chance to sleep in the warmth on a mattress. We won't get the opportunity for another four days, after all."

She left Sand and Khelgar and enquired with Falgor which room was hers. He gave her the key and she padded silently up the stairs. Inside the room the fire had been burning for some time. She put her pack on the floor beside the fireplace then stoked the fire with a poker, adding another couple of logs so that it would burn for longer.

Stripping to her underwear, she hung her damp, cold clothes over the back of a chair so that they would cry, then blew out the candles before crawling into bed. As she had expected it was deliciously warm, and she smiled to herself as she pulled the covers around her. Warm bed, warm food, warm wine... sometimes it was the small things that made life worth living.

o - o - o - o - o

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes, yes yes!"

"Nooooo!"

Neeshka stared blankly at the gnomes. They'd been arguing like this for five minutes straight, saying things that were completely nonsensical even by gnomish standards.

Noduab and Enleva, Grobnar had called them, and he'd finally located the sages on the outskirts of Port Llast. They'd set up their own little tent with a fire in front. Of course, only gnomes would camp in the freezing cold when there was a perfectly good inn just a two minute walk away.

"This is nonsense," said Sand.

"No, it's some sort of riddle," said Grobnar. He was watching the pair in fascination. "I think I'm starting to understand it. I just need to listen for a while longer. Try to keep them talking, if you can."

"Maybe we should shove these two in a room with Aldanon," Khelgar grunted.

If there was a reply, it was lost to her. She ignored her companions as a strange, itchy feeling appeared between her shoulder blades. Her paladin-sense was tingling. Slowly, she looked around, trying to locate the source of the feeling. When she found it, it wasn't at all what she was expecting.

A tall, blonde-haired woman was standing beside one of the stalls of Port Llast's tiny market. She was simply... watching Neeshka and her group. Even at this distance, she could see that the woman's eyes weren't normal. They were a bright yellow-gold, and appeared to be lit with an inner light. The woman's armour was shiny and silver, a long blue cloak flowing down her back. A sword was sheathed at her hip, and everybody about her screamed 'holy warrior' to her fiendish senses. When the woman noticed Neeshka observing her, she stepped back and disappeared behind the stall.

"I've got it!" said Grobnar excitedly. In one hand he waved a map as he approached her.

"You mean... they told you where we can find the Wendersnaven?"

"Not as such, no. But they allowed me to copy their map that shows the location."

"Great. So, where is it?"

"Well, there's good and bad news. The bad news is that it's a two day walk away. The good news is that it's back the way we just came. It's on the other side of the Neverwinter River, halfway between the city and Crossroad Keep. So we won't actually lose any time by going there."

"If you ask me this whole trip has been a waste of time," said Ammon. "There is no such thing as Wendersnaven."

"That's what we're going to find out," she said. "And since this place is on the way back home, we don't lose anything by going there. Now come on, let's go. We can probably make it halfway to Neverwinter by nightfall. Then tomorrow night we can stop at the Flagon and reach this Wendersnaven place before night the next day. Then another day of walking and we'll be back at the Keep." _Thank the gods,_ she added silently. Honestly, sometimes it was like leading a group of children around the realms.

They made their way back to the main road with their pack-horse in tow. She kept an eye open for the woman who had been watching them, and when she finally caught sight of her again, standing partially obscured behind a wall, she marched over to her, the tingling on her skin growing in intensity.

"Why were you watching us?" she demanded, planting her hands on her hips, her feet squarely apart. The woman barely even batted an eye at the harsh tone of her voice.

"I was expecting the Captain of Crossroad Keep," said the woman. Her voice was cool and warm, and had an almost musical quality to it.

"Oh yeah? Well she's not here! Why were you expecting her anyway? Are you another mercenary sent by Luskan?"

"She is an aasimar," Ammon snorted. "I would have thought you, of all people, would have been able to detect that."

"A what-imar?" asked Khelgar.

"Aasimar are offspring of beings from the Higher Planes and mortals," Grobnar elaborated.

"Beings of the Higher Planes?"

"Devas, Planetars and Solars, amongst others," said Ammon, eyeing the aasimar warily.

"You are correct, scarred-one," the woman said.

"Well... what do you want with Kail?" Neeshka asked her.

"I wish to see with my own eyes the one whom they call 'saviour'."

"Why not travel with us back to the Keep?" Grobnar suggested brightly.

"Grobnar!" she hissed. The _last_ thing she wanted was this woman making her skin all prickly the whole way back. And she still wasn't convinced of the aasimar's intentions, child of the Higher Planes or not.

"Thank you. I will take you up on your generous offer, if there are no objections."

Sand and Khelgar quickly assured her there were none, and Ammon reluctantly gave in, so Neeshka decided she would not object either... for the moment. But she would watch the aasimar very carefully. If the woman thought she was getting anywhere near Kail without passing her vetting process, she was mistaken.

o - o - o - o - o

The journey home was marginally easier than the outward leg had been, because they had already walked the road once, partially clearing it of the snow that obstructed them. They spent one night camping again, during which time the aasimar offered to Keep watch. Neeshka secretly kept herself, watching the aasimar as she watched them. You couldn't trust the offspring of Planar creatures by even an inch -- and she knew, because she was one of them.

They made it to Neverwinter in the late afternoon of their second day of travel and spent an uneasy night in Duncan's tender loving care. The source of their unease was the oppressive mood that had settled over the city as it was slowly evacuated. Businesses had been closed across all districts as patrons made their way out of the city. But it was a slow evacuation, hampered by snow. People were also reluctant to leave their homes; they thought that the snow would also hamper the armies of the King of Shadows, and that they were currently in no danger. Sometimes she felt like screaming at them how wrong they were.

The map Grobnar had copied off the gnomes' map was a little vague, and though they arrived in the general area indicated around noon time of their third day of travel, they had to spend a couple of hours hunting around for the clearing that the Wendersnaven supposedly inhabited. When they _did_ locate it, they found it remarkably clear of snow, as if something had come along and melted it all, or swept it all away. Sand said that it was probably due to geothermal energy, and she was content to leave it at that. But secretly, a tiny part of her wondered if Grobnar might be right. If the Wendersnaven might be keeping this place snow-free.

"Alright, spread out and look around for... giant invisible things," she said at last. Everybody, including the aasimar -- who refused to give them her name -- wandered away, peering into the trees and behind rocks, keeping their eyes on the ground for potential Wendersnaven tracks.

She didn't like the clearing. The trees closest to it, that circled it protectively, were green and free from snow. But the trees behind them, just a few paces away from the clearing, were covered in the fluffy white stuff. Sunlight struggled to penetrate the blankets of it, giving the forest a dark appearance.

"I've found something," said Sand at last. Everybody hurried towards him, and Neeshka found herself looking down at a dead, partially devoured corpse. What little flesh was left had rotted, giving off a pungent smell. She wrinkled her nose and took a step back. Whoever he was, he'd been here for some time. Grobnar, on the other hand, had no such compunctions about the smell. He held his nose and stepped forward, bending down to the corpse to search its pockets. Eventually he pulled out a book, breathing heavily as he took a step back to open it.

"What is it, gnome?" asked Khelgar.

"It's a poetry book. Why, it's not just any poetry book, but a poetry book belonging to The Relentless Poet! He was relentless, you know."

"Wonderful," said Sand. "We've travelled all this way to find a dead bard."

"It seems he was searching for the Wendersnaven, just like us."

"I don't suppose that book happens to mention if he found them?" Khelgar asked hopefully.

"I'm afraid not. Orcs killed him before he could finish his quest."

"What makes you think orcs did this?" asked Ammon, gesturing at the corpse. "It could have been just about anything."

"His last poem," said Grobnar, clearing his throat.

_"I've found at last the field of lore,_

_ But 'tis not right, I must deplore._

_ The Wendersnaven are not here_

_ And now I doubt they ever were._

_ But wait! A noise I hear nearby._

_ The Wendersnaven come from High!_

_ Could they be those shapes I see?_

_ But no, it's orcs, come to slay me."_

There was a sound from the trees nearby and Neeshka quietly slipped an arrow onto her bow, ready to pull it taught at a moment's notice.

"I suppose you were right, Ammon," said Grobnar sadly. "The Wendersnaven just aren't here. And I was hoping we'd find something to prove their existence, some way to make an alliance with them."

"Let's just get out of here," she said, not willing to let go of her bow string to pat him on the shoulder.

"Yes," he said, stepping back towards the path. "I suppose we should... ow! Ow ow ow!"

"What is it?"

"I stubbed my toe on something!" he said, hopping around with one leg raised and his foot in his hand. "But... how strange. I don't _see_ anything. Unless..."

All she could do was watch in confusion as Grobnar got down on his hands and knees and began combing the area with his fingers. Had he gone _mad_? She'd always known that bards were a bit rattly in the head because of all the loose fittings -- just look at Kail, after all -- but Grobnar was just being strange even by Grobnar standards.

"Ah-ha!" he said, grinning triumphantly. He held one hand in the air above his head, his fingers holding... nothing. "This is what I stubbed my toe on."

"You stubbed your toe on thin air?" asked Khelgar. "That's got to be a first."

"It matches the stuff between his ears," said Sand.

"No no, it's not nothing, it's an invisible instrument! Listen!" He brought his fingers to his mouth and closed his eyes, then began humming a tune. "Did you hear those beautiful notes? This must be a gift from the Wendersnaven. A sign that they are watching us, and want us to succeed!"

There was a sound of a snapping twig, and Neeshka brought her bow up to her eye-level, turning on the spot to the direction the sound had emanated from.

"I think a strategic withdrawal would be in our best interest," said Sand, magic cracking at his fingertips as his eyes scanned the tree-line.

"Thank you for this wondrous gift, o' powerful and all-seeing Wendersnaven," Grobnar shouted to the sky. "We shall-"His words were cut off by the aasimar wrapping a hand around his mouth. With his words stopped, the clearing fell silent.

There came from the trees a deep banging sound, muffled somewhat by the snow. When the banging grew louder and faster, she knew that whatever was making the sound was approaching. She swallowed, and tried to calm her heart which was growing faster to mirror the pace of the sounds.

"Orc war-drums!" said Khelgar, hefting his axe in both hands. The aasimar let go of Grobnar and drew her own weapon. It was a long, golden sword that slid silently from its sheathe. At one time, Neeshka would have found the sword impressive. Now she had seen the Sword of Gith, any other weapon would simply pale in comparison to the Sword.

As the banging grew ever louder, ever closer, she edged nearer to Ammon and Sand. Khelgar, she knew, would throw herself into the thick of it, and judging by the way the aasimar held her weapon, she too was no stranger to combat. Grobnar would fall back to using his music and his crossbow, which occasionally proved to be a deadly combination. But she had to protect Ammon and Sand. She had to keep the orcs away from them for long enough to cast their spells

In silence, they waited.


	90. Hallowed Swords

_90. Hallowed Swords_

Fire danced in front of Kail's eyes, spitting and crackling as it met the log, licking at it with tongues of flame, exploring the surface of the wood with fiery fingers before closing around and consuming it. Unbidden, memories came back of her time within the cave when she had been carried by dancing, burning figures and turned into a dragon. The smell of the smoke, slowly winding its way up the chimney, reminded her of the wood-char smell of burning forest as she punished the people who had thought to harm her. Her mind craved for the freedom of the skies.

"Captain? Did you hear me? Captain?" Kana asked again. As her first officer shared a worried glance with Nevalle, she quickly cast her mind back to the last thing Kana had said.

"Yes, I heard. Sorry, I was just a little distracted. And no, I don't think we should tax people in Leeves, yet. Let them get used to the idea of being under my protection, first. Then later, what we give with one hand we can take with another." As she spoke, a smile played across Nevalle's lips, though she had no idea why. She didn't like it when he smiled. Smiling, he made it easier for her to like him. And that made it easier for her to forget why he was here. He was, after all, Nasher's favoured servant. He was here to strengthen the chains that held her to the Keep.

"Perhaps you're pushing yourself too hard, Captain. We _have_ been in here all day, after all. Would you like a short break, to eat and drink something?" said Kana.

"No, I'd rather get all of this done now, then I can concentrate on my other tasks later. Besides, I feel much better now. I think I'm almost completely recovered. Please, do continue with the next point."

Kana picked up the list once more, and Kail tried as hard as she could to concentrate and focus on the words. It wasn't easy. She had so much on her mind already. There had been no word, yet, from Neeshka, and she worried about her friends being away from the Keep in such foul weather. On top of that, she was still too angry with Zhjaeve to speak to the githzerai, and Bishop was ignoring her. Almost.

Since the night she had told him to leave her, the night when he had scared her more than anybody else had managed before, he had not sought out her company or even spoken to her once. He spent most of his time in the tavern, and on the occasions when she went down there to sit for a while beside her imprisoned Sword or to say hello to Sal, he simply watched her, shooting daggers from his eyes. After the first couple of times she began to wonder how long he would keep it up for, and she even considered apologising to him. Which had made her angry. She had no reason to apologise. She had done nothing wrong. He was the one who had threatened her... although technically, he hadn't threatened her. He'd simply pushed her backwards and moved into her personal space. He hadn't drawn a weapon or hit her or even suggested violence. But that didn't make it any less of a threat.

Daeghun had not been able to retrieve her Sword. Zhjaeve had simply ignored his calm, rational tone, and had even managed to leave him exasperated, though he hid it well. Now that she understood her father a little better, they spent more time together, often talking of the old days in West Harbor, and of her mother. In some ways they were closer than ever... but in other ways they were more distant, as if a chasm had opened up between them. She knew that it was her fault. She couldn't be blamed for the void that now separated her from Bishop, but her own harsh words, thrown so casually in Daeghun's face, had torn an unfixable hole in their relationship. It was like a scar; they could ignore it, see past it, but they always knew it was there. Since then, Daeghun had insisted that he call her by his name. He no longer wanted her to call him 'father'. It hurt, to call him that, but she knew it was pain she deserved. She had made her bed, and now she would lie in it.

Forced by the bad weather to remain in the Keep, never venturing further than the tavern or the shops in the courtyard, she quickly began to recover her strength. Whilst she was weak she thought that perhaps the vampires, in drinking her blood, had taken away the Bhaalspawn taint and her draconic ancestry. Half of her hoped that they had siphoned it off, absorbed it into themselves. But half of her dreaded the thought. For better or worse, they were what made her who she was. Since undergoing the vision quest, she had learnt to master her draconic abilities. Now she could control the dragon-fire. She could bring it forth or send it away at her will, directing it to harm enemies but leave allies unscathed. And although the effects of the Bhaalspawn taint on her were still unknown, she realised that it might, some day, come in useful. As Neeshka had said; she was descended from a god. The grand-daughter of a god, wielding the Sword of Gith, and carrying within her the Rituals of Purification and powerful dragon-blood, might finally succeed where the Illefarn, githyanki, a crystal dragon and Ammon Jerro had failed.

But as her strength slowly recovered, augmented by the Arvahn healing Ritual which she used on herself every night before sleeping, the taint of Bhaal, and her draconic abilities, came back too. Now, she felt almost as healthy and strong as she had before the vampires had drained her life away. She could walk circuits of the Keep, and she often did, wandering the tops of the walls, strolling along the battlements, making small talk with the Greycloaks and looking out over her lands. Up here, where the air could blow through her hair, was the closest thing she had to freedom. One day she had even climbed to the top of the Keep, stepping out onto its roof and observing everybody far beneath her. She hadn't been able to stay up there long; the wind was powerful and cold. But she had ordered Veedle to place on the roof a stone pillar with holes drilled through it. The shrine would be small, and modest, but it was how Shaundakul preferred to be worshipped. He wasn't big on temples.

A knock came from her door, and Kana stopped talking to answer it. When she opened it fully, Kail saw a young man wearing a wizard's robe, who bowed when he saw her.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Captain," he said when she gestured for him to enter the room. "My master, Startear, wishes me to inform you that he has found the item you requested. He will need to explain to you how it works, but this may be done at your convenience."

"I'll come right away," she said, her heart pounding in her chest. "Kana, we can finish this some other time. There's something I have to do."

She didn't wait for Kana's reply before pushing herself from her seat and following the wizard apprentice out of the room. He walked calmly down the corridors, and she found herself wishing he would walk faster. Couldn't he tell how important this was? She wanted to _sprint_ all the way to Startear's tower. But of course, that would simply make people think she was crazy. It might even alarm them. After all, anything capable of making the Captain of Crossroad Keep run, must be powerful indeed.

The snow had been completely cleared from the roads of the Keep now, but it still lay deeply on the ground in some places. Where the Greycloaks trained, in the outdoor arena, the snow had been compacted by hundreds of booted feet, and was now a layer of ice two inches thick. Crushed rock had been spread over it, to help give Greycloak feet a better grip, but it wasn't all that much of an improvement.

When they reached the wizard tower, she allowed the apprentice to enter first and hold open the door for her, even through she wanted nothing more than to barge past him and demand the item from Startear. She knew that it would be foolish to do such a thing, though. And she did not want him to see how important this was to her.

"Ah, dear Captain, how nice to see you again," Startear smiled, his unnatural silver eyes glinting coldly as he ran his gaze over her. She didn't like the way he looked at her. He reminded her of Bishop, in some ways. There was that same predatory gleam lurking within his depths. But where Bishop's gaze burnt through her with raw, unfettered emotion, Startear's gaze was distant and speculative, as if she was some curious insect that he wanted to dissect.

"Thank you for sending a messenger so swiftly," she said, inclining her head to him as she ordered her heart to slow down. Since her near-death experience, she had become more aware of her body and the way that it worked. During her recovery she scrutinised it intensely, comparing how she felt from one day to the next, one moment to the next. As a result, she now felt more in-tune with herself. Physically, at least. Emotionally, she knew that she was a wreck. She still feared the darkness, she still jumped at shadows, she still longed for the freedom of the clear skies and hungered for the experience of hunting in the forests with her pack. She still struggled to harden herself, to talk to the men with smiles, to enquire about their families, to ask after their health, knowing that soon she would have to order them to their deaths. But if she let it affect her she would never be able to make the decisions she had to make.

"The item that we discussed," he said, handing her a box. With butterflies flapping their ticklish wings in her stomach, she opened it and drew out a gauntlet. She did not know what metal it was made from; it was warm to the touch, and when she ran her fingers over it an oily sheen passed across its surface, swirling around with hidden energy.

"What is it?" she asked at last.

"It is called 'The Fist of Feryon'. Feryon was once a warrior renowned throughout Sigil for his expertise with a blade. But the one thing he feared was magic. Rather than fighting a mage, he would flee, and he worried that people might begin to think of him as a coward. He commissioned a wizard to create many items, each of which having a different effect. Some would increase his resistance to magic, others would reflect offensive magic back to its originator, whilst others absorbed magic, powering their own special effects."

"What does this one do, then?"

"Feryon knew that wizards might try to cage him, when they learnt of his new items. This glove is designed to break through any magical barrier, such as a sanctuary spell, or a resilient sphere, shattering it."

"You said Feryon _was_ a warrior of renown. So what went wrong? What's the catch?"

"Yes, there is always a catch, isn't there?" Startear smiled. "The mage who designed the items was not a complete fool. He placed hidden weaknesses in them, just in case Feryon decided to kill him after creating them. Wearing the gauntlet, you must attempt to punch through the barrier. If the first hit does not break it you must apply further pressure, and attempt to push the gauntlet through it with all of your strength. But once it has breached the barrier, it will... disappear."

"Disappear?"

"Randomly. To another Plane. This is how the items became scattered. After one use they teleport themselves to another Plane. Ingenious, really. I would applaud the mage who made them, were he still alive."

"This doesn't look like it will fit me," she said, holding up the glove which probably even wouldn't fit Casavir.

"Ah yes, about that. See, Feryon was rather paranoid. He was afraid that somebody might try to snatch the gloves from him. When you put it on, a row of metal teeth with shoot out from the inside of the glove, embedding themselves in your flesh, thus preventing it from falling off."

"Metal teeth. In my flesh," she said, using her best I-am-not-impressed voice.

"Such power does not come without its price."

"And what happens to my arm, which will be attached to the gauntlet, once it randomly teleports itself to another Plane?"

"I am fairly certain that your arm will remain here, attached to your body. Once the glove has broken the barrier, it will begin to teleport. As it begins to phase way from the Prime, it will detect that it is no longer attached to an arm. The teeth with retract, freeing you."

"Are you _certain_?"

"The man who found it did not mention it being attached to an arm, so I assume its last user had no such problems with it. But if you prefer not to take the risk..."

"I'll take it," she said. Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she thrust her hand into the glove. There was excruciating pain as the teeth sprang into her flesh, but surprisingly there was no blood. Through clenched teeth and feeling a cold sweat cover her body, she asked Startear why that might be.

"The metal has cut cleanly into your arm," he explained. "It has stemmed the flow of blood, though you'll obviously still have blood flowing through deeper veins and arteries to your hands... I don't think even Feryon would have been foolish enough to commission something that would give him necrosis. You won't bleed until the teeth retract. Then I should imagine you'll lose a fair amount of blood. Not enough to kill you, of course, but enough to make you dizzy. You may wish to have a healer on hand."

"That was a terrible pun," she said, breathing deeply to fight the pain. "Thank you... I will let you know how it goes."

"I look forward to hearing about the experience."

With the cold metal gauntlet covering her arm halfway to her elbow, she left Startear's shop and made her way across the courtyard, ignoring the stares of Greycloaks. Her eyes were fixed firmly on her goal. On the door of the tavern.

Sal greeted her as she entered, but she ignored him. She ignored Bishop when he sneered at her, and she ignored the surprise that crossed his face when he saw her arm. She ignored Qara, who was sitting curled in a chair with a book, and Daeghun and Bevil, who were talking quietly at one side of the room.

"What are you doing, Kalach-cha?" asked Zhjaeve, standing up and stepping in front of her.

"Getting my Sword back."

She stepped around the githzerai and approached the Sword in its cage. Lifting her arm made it ache, no doubt as a result of the teeth in her skin, but she pulled her arm back and aimed the most powerful punch she could manage at the magical barrier surrounding the weapon. It failed to break through, but she heeded Startear's advice. She pushed her weight against the barrier and felt it slipping, giving in ever so slowly to the force of the gauntlet. She was also aware of Zhjaeve, clutching her head as if it pained her, and she smiled. It must be another effect of the glove, to cause pain to the one who tried to cage its wearer.

She had been expecting a prolonged effort. She had been expecting to feel resistance from the barrier that would require an enormous feat of strength and concentration. She didn't expect it to give way after only a few seconds of sustained force, which was exactly what it did. One moment she was pushing against the barrier, and the next it was gone. The teeth of the gauntlet retracted and it disappeared before her eyes, leaving blood running down her arm. Before Zhjaeve could put up another barrier, she grabbed the Sword of Gith with her left, undamaged hand, and felt it spring to life once more in her grasp.

The joy she felt at being reunited with her weapon overpowered the pain that she felt in her arm. For a long moment she simply stood there with her eyes closed, listening to the Sword sing to her, feeling the bond between herself and her weapon strengthen once more as the shard within her chest began to warm to the presence of its brethren. She opened her eyes and ran her fingers over the blade, watching arcs of silver lightning rise and fall to her touch. Surely this was the perfect weapon. It knew her, it would never need oiling, it would never cut her and it wouldn't sleep until all of her enemies were dead.

"Will you allow me to heal your arm, Kalach-cha?" Zhjaeve asked.

She nodded. Now that she had her Sword, she could forgive Zhjaeve. But she would never, ever forget. She would never allow anybody other than her to touch her Sword. She would never allow anybody to take it from her and cage it where she could not reach it. Because she knew that as much as the Sword was a part of her, she was a part of the Sword.

o - o - o - o - o

Sitting in front of the tavern's fire, Bishop tried to look relaxed, which was easier said than done. Behind him, Kail was sitting at the bar, chatting with Sal. Since she had recovered her Sword, the day before, she had an almost constant smile on her face. It only retreated when she looked at him. Whenever she caught him staring at her, the smile that he wished he had been able to bring to her lips faded, and a coldness entered her eyes.

It hurt to see her looking at him like that, but he relished the pain. He took it in, absorbing it, and turned it to anger. All she had ever done was use him. From the moment they had met, she had done nothing but manipulate him, just as Duncan had. He had put himself out for her. He had led her through Luskan territory at great risk to his own life. He had followed her on countless stupid missions, saving her more than once. He had cared for her and all but thrown himself at her, and she had tossed it all back in his face without ever saying thank-you.

A tiny voice of reason protested at some of his thoughts. She hadn't actually _asked_ him to accompany her on most of her missions. He'd simply gone along because he wanted to. And she hadn't scorned his advances. She'd danced with him. She'd let him hold her, let him touch her. She hadn't even complained when he'd barged in on her in the bath. And she had tried to understand him. She wanted to know about him. She'd even let him talk her into torturing a Luskan.

_No. If she wanted to understand him it was only so that she could better learn how to manipulate and use him. She'd said it herself. 'I have no use for you'. The only thing she'd wanted was companionship. And that wasn't enough._

But wasn't that what he'd wanted all along? He'd wanted to break her, to see her beg, to squirm with desire. Why was he complaining? She'd practically invited him into her bed. Why wasn't he happy with that?

_Because she wasn't just some woman that he wanted to bed. That's what whores were for. He wanted her to want him. He wanted her to let him protect her and care for her. He'd never been able to protect anybody before. He'd always let people down. It had to be different, this time. She had to be willing to give things up. Nobody had ever been willing to give things up for him. _

But why should she be the one to give things up? If he expected her to give things up for him, shouldn't she expect the same of him? Shouldn't he give up something for her? Wasn't that how relationships worked? The ones that you didn't pay for, at least.

_He didn't have anything to give up. No, goading her into attacking him so that he could kill her in self defence was the best option. It was the easiest._

But where would he be then? Eventually he'd find somebody else that he might care for, then things would go wrong and he'd have to kill them, which would make him feel even worse. Why keep making the same mistakes, over and over again? Why not break the circle now? Why not let _her_ choose?

He snarled at his own thoughts and cast his eyes to the commotion at the door. Six hooded figures were entering, and they threw back their hoods to reveal a very cold-looking Neeshka, Ammon, Khelgar, Sand, Grobnar, and... a strange woman with a shiny armour and an air of sureness and strength around her. He felt a growl rising in his throat. Didn't the Keep already have enough bloody paladins and knights already?

"Kail!" said Neeshka, throwing her arms around the woman and giving her a hug. He felt a moment of envy over how the tiefling could pass so easily through the barriers which so effectively kept him out. When he was near, Kail's personal space was projected several feet around her. "You look great! How do you feel?"

"Much better," the woman smiled in genuine warmth. "How did it go? Did you find the Wendersnaven?"

"Alas, no," said the gnome, unwrapping a scarf from around his neck. Bishop wished that he could just pull it tighter and stop the annoying half-man from talking. "But we did find this!" Grobnar delved into his pocket and brought his empty hand up into mid-air.

"You found your fingers?" she asked, confused. He managed to catch the grin that was forming on his lips before it could fully form.

"No, it's an invisible musical instrument. I've named it a 'Wenderkazoo'. Very powerful, and a gift bestowed on us by the Wendersnaven."

"Grobnar stumped his toe on thin air in the middle of an empty clearing and now claims it was an invisible instrument," said Sand, his voice dripping with sarcasm. The elf was one of the few people that Bishop was wary around. Unlike the paladin, Sand was no fool. He saw and heard things that most of the others didn't. He found himself carrying a grudging respect for the elven wizard. "Coincidentally, when Grobnar plays the instrument, it sounds exactly like he's humming to himself."

"I can't wait to see it in action, Grobnar," Kail smiled at the gnome.

"Really? Well, perhaps I could give you a demonstration..."

"Be quiet, gnome," said Ammon, stalking forward to stare at the Sword of Gith that was tucked through Kail's belt. "I don't know what you did to get that back, but I had a migraine all last night."

"Good. You deserved it," she replied coolly, and he allowed himself a small smile. "I warned you. I gave you plenty of opportunities to give me my Sword back, and you refused. You made your bed, now lie in it."

"You must be the Captain of Crossroad Keep," said the stranger, stepping forward to examine Kail. He saw now that her eyes were yellow, like egg-yolks, and her skin had an unnatural pale tinge to it. She stood a head taller than Kail, and for some reason the bard's hands clenched briefly into fists at the sight of the woman.

"I am Kail Farlong," she said in an imperious voice. Though she no longer played her music and sang her songs, she still held onto many of her old mannerisms. She could still talk down to somebody who was taller than her, just as she had done with him.

"I am pleased to meet you," the woman replied. "You wear many names, it seems. I have heard you called 'Scourge of Luskan', 'Hero of Neverwinter', 'Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep', 'Shard-bearer'... and yet the name that passes the lips of the common people is not so much a title as a description. 'Saviour', they call you, and I have come to see this saviour for myself."

"I look better in paintings," she said, and the woman smiled.

"I wonder... will you be the light that banishes the darkness, the tree that stands still to weather the storm and is consumed, or the black cloud on the horizon that heralds the darkness?"

"I'm going to destroy the King of Shadows, if that's what you mean."

"I can see that your resolve is strong, but your will is as yet untested. So I offer myself as a conduit for a test."

"In what way?" asked Kail, and he could sense her caution, see it in every line of her body.

"I challenge you to a duel. One-on-one, personal combat."

_Don't do it, wildcat,_ he thought to himself. _She's a warrior. She's made fighting her life. You're just a Harborman. You've nothing to prove this time._

"Very well. I accept your challenge."

"I am pleased. Would you prefer to make this a private test?"

"No. I won't hide in the shadows."

"Is there somewhere that we may begin our duel?"

"The training grounds," Kail nodded.

_What are you doing, fool woman?_ he thought as everybody, including him, filed out of the tavern to observe the fight. _The training grounds are a sheet of ice. You can't fight on that, you'll break your bloody neck._

Then he saw the wisdom of her words. The stranger, her opponent, was wearing heavy armour. If she slipped and fell she would find it hard to stand again, like a turtle struggling to right itself. Kail, on the other hand, had no armour. Her coat, which she was now fastening closed, was enchanted to provide protection from the cold. Her boots were soft leather with a decent tread. Where the stranger's metal boots would slip and slide, hers would have something of a grip.

For a moment he began to regret pitting himself against her. She was a dangerous opponent. In only seconds she had assessed her opponent, assessed herself, weighed advantages against disadvantages and decided on a course of action. It was that sort of ingenuity that impressed him. He just hoped that, today, her reflexes would be as quick as her mind.

There were no Greycloaks training today. It was simply too slippery for them to try. Kana was a harsh task-master. She had forced them to train outdoors, in the freezing cold, every single day, until it had gotten too icy for them to continue. Casavir was less harsh. He always allowed his men to train indoors when the weather was bad.

Some of the Greycloaks gathered around now, and word of a fight spread amongst them. Utilising Karnwyr's keen hearing, he listened in to their gambling. Almost all of them thought Kail would be victorious. Only a few of them would bet against their Knight-Captain, and they did it quietly, using her recent 'illness' as justification to try to earn a little gold by wishing her defeat.

In the centre of the training grounds, Kail was calm. He could tell by the deep, collected exhales she took, her breath condensing and frosting in the frigid air as it left her parted lips. When the stranger bowed, Kail did too, and unsheathed her blade.

When the woman tensed, taking up a fighting stance, Kail merely stood there, the Sword cold and slumbering in her hand, her grip on it light. He knew what she was doing. She was trying to make her opponent uneasy, to throw her off guard. She would not strike first. He had never seen her strike first against an opponent that had a mind of its own. She liked to assess them, to get a feel of the situation, to weigh up all of her options.

The stranger moved, circling around as she stepped forward, trying to get behind Kail. Meanwhile, Kail turned on the spot, keeping her eye on the stranger but not yet taking up a defensive posture.

The attack came swiftly. The woman struck out with her blade, the edge of it glowing gold in the sunlight. Just as fast, the Sword of Gith came to life, glittering with energy. It rose up, both of Kail's hands gripping the handle, and she blocked it in the air above her head. For a moment there was a bright flash of light as the golden blade of the stranger's sword clashed against the silver Sword of Gith, the weapons pushing at each other for dominance. He could already tell that Kail's opponent was stronger than her. If she didn't stop pushing she would be forced back.

At the last moment she ducked and pulled down her sword, swinging it wide, away from her body. Devoid of an opposing force, her opponent staggered forward a step before recovering. Even as Kail stepped back, waiting for the woman to strike again, he felt his hands slowly clenching. The strike that the woman had aimed at Kail was powerful; it was a killing blow. Had Kail not blocked in time, she would now be dead. He glanced briefly at Zhjaeve, wondering why the githzerai had not protested at this risk to her precious 'Kalach-cha', but the woman's face was blank and unreadable as she watched.

The stranger made several more obvious strikes, then changed her style. Instead of striking fast and hard, she made lighter blows, chaining them together to strike several times in series. Slowly, Kail was forced back as she defended herself. Then, as she anticipated a move, she rolled forwards, over her shoulder and beneath her opponent's arm. The newcomer's sword struck ice, sending up sparks of orange fire.

With her opponent off-balance, Kail now had the offensive. As the stranger had done, she now struck rapidly several times, and he recognised the kata as one she sometimes practiced with Neeshka. It was one that Lucas had taught her -- all of her kata were -- and it seemed to serving her in good faith.

The Sword flashed time and time again, whirling through the air to strike at its target. It was the most deadly and efficient sword he had ever seen. And beautiful, too. At times it was dormant and cold, but it could spring to life at a single touch of Kail's fingers. The weapon suited her in every way. It was sharp and sleek and deceptively dangerous. Just like her. Though he feared for her safety, he had to acknowledge how beautiful she looked wielding the blade, her face animated by battle, her eyes reflecting the shimmer of the sword like stars reflected in an icy pond. No doubt the Greycloaks saw only the Sword. No doubt they could only be impressed by its movements. They wouldn't see how perfectly she moved beneath it. How she never put a single foot out of place.

Until she _did_ put her foot out of place, and tumbled to the floor, the Sword skittering from her grip across the ice and coming to rest in the centre of the arena. She recovered quickly, and went for her weapon before the stranger could position herself between Kail and the Sword. When she took it in her hand it came to life again, and for a moment he felt a strange kinship for the Sword. Her touch made him, too, feel alive. What he wouldn't give to be that Sword right now.

It seemed that Kail had finally had enough of fighting. The next time her opponent struck, she parried the blow, whirling around and kicking out at the woman's armoured back. The unexpected move caught the stranger off guard and she went tumbling to the floor, dropping her weapon. Kail moved to stand over her, the deadly-sharp tip of the Sword of Gith a mere inch away from her neck.

_Finish it!_ he thought, his lips curling into a snarl. You didn't show mercy to those who threatened you!

Kail seemed to disagree. At a nod from the stranger she sheathed the Sword. But she did not offer the woman her hand. She obviously wouldn't trust her that far.

"You fight well," said the stranger, pushing herself to her feet and retrieving her sword.

"As do you," she replied, inclining her head.

"You have won the first of three challenges, and you have won the right to know my name. I am Light of Heavens, and I shall return to this place in the near future."

The woman walked away, ignoring everybody who watched her as she walked the path down to the gate. Then she was gone.

Had it been him she was fighting, he would never have let her walk away like that. You didn't let somebody go once they're threatened you. If they'd crossed you, you didn't just let them walk away, passing freely beneath the gates. It was foolish.

"Captain!" came a worried shout. Nevalle ran up the path, slowing before he hit the training area so that he wouldn't slip on the ice. He was panting hard, his face lined with worry.

"What is it, Nevalle?" she asked calmly.

"I've just received word that Callum was on his way here when he was attacked. He's on the main road, not far from the Keep, but he's taken heavy losses. According to our reports, a Reaver is amongst the opposition... and it has blade golems with it."

"I'm coming with you," said Ammon before Kail could even say that she was going anywhere. There was a chorus of people shouting that they wanted to come too; his voice was not amongst them. And she seemed to know it. Her eyes met his, ever so briefly, and he saw that she was still calm, still in control. She had been ever since she'd gotten her Sword back.

"Everyone who wants to come, grab a weapon. Men, you stay here and fortify the Keep in case we have to get Callum back here quickly."

The Greycloaks quickly disassembled, hurrying to the armoury. Without another word, Kail made for the gate, and against his better judgement, he joined the end of the line of people who followed her out of the Keep.


	91. Once in a Blue Moon

_91. Once in a Blue Moon_

The cold night air was ominously quiet as Kail led the way past the farmsteads that comprised the area immediately outside the Keep's walls. If the King of Shadows ever made it this far, the farmers and their families would either be evacuated into the Keep or to Neverwinter itself, if there was time.

"What's the plan, lass?" Khelgar asked as he marched to keep up with the fast pace she had set. Though she knew she could easily run the mile or so to Callum's last known position, she also knew that not everybody would be able to keep up with her. So she forced herself to stick to a fast walk, and hoped that it was enough.

"I don't have a plan yet."

"Huh. Well, I'm as big a fan of the 'charge in screaming bloody murder and cleaving enemies in twain with yer axe' plan as anyone, but I think if we have t' be dealing with Reavers and golems, we should at least have some idea of who's killing what. Can't have people going and stealing me kills, after all."

"Fine," she said, going over Nevalle's words in her head. "There's at least one Reaver. Zhjaeve, Ammon, your job will be to recite the True Name scrolls as fast as you can. Khelgar, Casavir... you're on golem-distraction duty. Elanee, I need you for healing."

The druid nodded. For the past three nights she had been able to reach reverie, and had replenished her repertoire of spells. Though she wasn't willing to risk an attempt at shifting form, lest she lose control again, she was more than capable at healing people once more.

"Everybody else," Kail continued, "protect Ammon and Zhjaeve if anything gets too close to them. And choose a golem to hit if it looks like things are going badly."

"What will you be doing?" Neeshka asked.

"I will distract the Reaver. The Sword has taken a liking for the taste of their flesh."

"I don't like the thought of you going up against a Reaver alone."

"I won't be alone. I'll have my Sword with me. Besides, I'm not going up against it, I'm distracting it. It may be undead, but it can still cast spells like a mage."

"Alright, lass," said Khelgar. "I just hope ye know what yer doing."

o - o - o - o - o

When the sound of metal ringing against metal, and the screams of men dying, reached Kail's ears, she gave up trying to stick to a walk. She ran forward, not caring who was behind her. Everybody else would just have to get there when they could. She couldn't wait for them any longer.

She was in time to see Callum surrounded by five golems. She was in time to see him striking out at them with his weapon. She was in time to see one of them run him through with its bladed arm, followed by a decapitating blow from another. She had known Callum. She had respected him. What they did to his body made bile rise from her stomach, made her want to retch. But she did not look away. She _could_ not. She owed it to Callum, to remember his last stand. His death would fuel her anger and determination. He would be one more name to remember as she destroyed the King of Shadows.

She mentally added his name to the list of people that she had not been in time to save. It was a short list, but she knew that it would swiftly grow once the war escalated. _Amie. Shandra. Melia. Callum. West Harbor._ They were names that she would always remember, because she could have prevented their deaths had she moved faster, acted faster. But as fast as she tried to move, as fast as she tried to act, she never seemed to be fast enough. Her enemies were always swifter.

The Reaver spoke. She ignored its words. It was an undead abomination. Nothing it could say would ever affect her. Walking towards it, she took the Sword from her belt, and it raged in the presence of the dead wizard. The undead were the first thing it had tasted in twenty years, and it considered them its enemy above all else. It amplified her hatred of them a thousand-fold.

The Reavers seemed to care nothing for the light. One had attacked Castle Never in daylight. Another had ambushed her at West Harbor during the day. She had come across the first one again during the daytime, in its camp near the Keep. If they did not fear the light, then she would not be the light. She would be death on wings, the fire from above, the jaws that snapped and rent flesh as if it was air. She did not have to be light, or darkness, or shadow. She could simply be.

The first of the golems stepped into her path, positioning itself between her and the Reaver. It raised a bladed arm, ready to strike her down. The Sword of Gith was faster. For too long it had slept. For too long it had been denied life. Its voice had fallen silent, and even the warlock who had wielded it over twenty years ago, even the warlock, with all of his power and strength, had not been able to hear its call.

But Kail did. Once it had spoken to her in a strange, alien tongue. Now it sang in words that she understood.

_In shadow forged, in shadow made,_

_ the wielded Sword, of sharpest blade_

_ tastes its foes, and tastes their sin._

_ In battle joined, the war to win._

For an instant, time stood still. She did not know what happened. She did not know if she did it, or if the Sword did it, or if they did it together. For an instant, the world around her was static. She stepped through that instant, through the moment of stillness, and the Sword moved with her. It didn't follow. It didn't lead. It moved at exactly the same time that she did, sharpening itself beyond all imagination and slicing clear through the golem's torso.

The moment passed and she found herself on the other side of the golems. They were still looking ahead, still looking for the Kail that _should_ have been on the path in front of them. Instead, they spied her friends, with Khelgar and Casavir in the lead. They shambled forwards, their movement causing the earth to vibrate beneath their heavy feet. There was a rain of missiles from the sky; arrows and bolts flew down towards them, interspersed with missiles of magic and ethereal bolts of acid and fire. She turned her back on them, and faced the Reaver.

It was still speaking, but she did not listen. The Sword had come up with a second verse for its song, and listening to the words became her very reason for _being_.

_ A tale to spin, a tale to hear,_

_ with shadows growing ever near._

_ They do not listen, do not see_

_ the me in you, and you in me._

The song wound its way through her veins. It wasn't a song that she heard through her ears, or processed with her mind. It was something at the very core of her, right beside her heart, being sung by the shard in her chest. But just as its heart was buried inside her, her own heart was buried inside it. For as long as the Sword existed, it would allow no other to wield it. For others it would become dead and blunt, or it would cut them out of malice and revenge.

The Reaver seemed to sense that something was wrong, that she wasn't listening, that she wasn't being goaded into an attack. It began to cast a spell, and she was there, slashing at it with the Sword. Whenever it stepped back, she pressed forward. Whenever it sent out a shock-wave to knock her to her feet, she got back up and attacked again. No matter how many times it knocked her down, she always got right back up. She wouldn't be forced into submission. Not by this Reaver, not by its master. How could they even _think_ of standing against her and the Sword? They were one. Two things working in perfect unison.

There was a flash of light, and the Reaver let out an unnatural scream. The Sword sensed that it had been weakened, and called for an offensive strike. She obliged, striking again and again at the Reaver's body. It tried to flee, to teleport away, but she struck with the Sword before it could finish its spell. For a moment, she even allowed the Sword to take over. It wanted to direct its own attacks, so she let it borrow her mind briefly. It knew where it wanted to go, and it moved her hands into the correct place at the correct time.

When the Reaver finally fell to its knees, the Sword screamed through the air, and the Reaver's head was severed from its neck cleanly across its vertebrae. Its corpse fell, and the Sword plunged itself into its chest, ending its un-life once and for all.

The Sword relinquished control of her mind, its hunger sated for the moment. When she turned back to the battle she found only two golems remaining. She was glad that Mister Pointy was back at the Keep; the golems were virtually indistinguishable from each other.

She considered joining the fight, but had no need. The constructs were simply overwhelmed by the amount of sheer magical enemy focussed on them by Qara, Sand, Zhjaeve, Ammon and Elanee. Not to mention that Khelgar and Casavir were putting severe dents in their armour with their weapons. So instead of joining the fight, she simply stood beside the fallen Reaver, letting her breaths slow as she recovered from the exertion of battle.

"What in the name of Clangeddin was that, lass?" Khelgar asked, hurrying up to her as the last golem was felled by Casavir.

"What do you mean?" she asked, sheathing the sword, letting it rest once more.

"Ye just... disappeared! For a second or two, ye were just gone. Then ye were on the other side of the golems!"

"Was I?"

"Tell me," said Sand, following Khelgar. "Were you moving quickly in relation to everything else, or was everything else moving slowly in relation to you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I was simply fighting golems and Reavers."

Her friends let the matter lie after that. In truth, she had experienced such moments of timelessness before, when she had gone into a berserker frenzy -- a problem she seemed to have overcome, these days -- but nothing had ever come of them in the past. She had never skipped through space or disappeared from one place and appeared in another. But she wasn't worried. The Sword would not let anything harm her. And right now, she trusted the Sword more than anything or anybody else. It knew her intimately, just as she knew it. It didn't judge her or scorn her. It simply revelled in who she was and got on with its job.

"Oh my, look at this!" said Grobnar, standing up with a book in his hands after his inspection the Reaver's corpse. She was surprised that Neeshka let him do it... normally she was the one who wanted to get first dibs on the 'opportunistic adventuring', also known as corpse-searching. "It's the Tome of Iltkazar!"

"What? Let me see that," said Sand, reaching for the book.

"Ah-ah, no need to be Mister Grabby!" said Grobnar, pulling it away from the elf.

Kail ignored their words as a figure appeared on the path from the direction of the Keep. Behind him were a dozen or more Greycloaks, marching down towards the carnage. The feelings that she had experienced during her battle; the strength, the calmness, the surety, fled from her mind as she took a step towards the approaching figure. She was now the harbinger of bad news. She would have to tell Nevalle that the Nine were now Seven.

o - o - o - o - o

Standing atop the reinforced walls of the Keep, Kail looked out over her lands. She had tried to be a good Captain. She had tried to do what was right by the people who relied on her. And yet blood was still spilled upon this land, as it had been long ago. The Master of Crossroad Keep wanted to reclaim it. It didn't understand that the Keep had a new master, now.

A pair of arms were wrapped tightly around her shoulders, a head leant against her back in a comforting gesture. For a moment she allowed the embrace, then she patted the hands that held her, asking silently for release.

"What happened?" Neeshka asked at last.

"I got better," she said, feeling a ghost of a smile playing across her lips.

"I just have so many questions that I don't even know where to begin," the tiefling sighed.

"Then don't ask them, because I have no answers."

"I'm sorry... about Callum. I know you liked him, even though you didn't really know him."

"I did. And his death was a waste. Every death in this war has been a waste." _ Except one. Mine._

"How's Nevalle taking it?"

"You care for Sir Nevalle's feelings, now?" she asked, a genuine smile gracing her lips.

"Not at all. I can just... y'know... empathise. I know how _I'd_ feel, if I lost you. I imagine that's how Nevalle's feeling right now."

"I'm not so sure," she sighed. "I mean, he's upset, yes. But I think Nevalle sees things differently than you and I. To him, dying in the service of his Lord is an honourable thing, and death could happen at any moment. I think, in a way, he's like Kana. He's already embraced death, and accepted that it's going to happen, and that he could lose anybody close to him at any moment. It's almost... inhuman," she shivered.

"Do you regret not taking Nasher up on his offer to become one of them?"

"Never. All of that... duty, service... it's an illusion. Just like this," she said, gesturing at the full blue moon that was resting in the sky.

"And yet you're still here. Still doing your duty," Neeshka pointed out.

"That's different. Anyone with enough skill can become one of the Nine. Only I can stop the King of Shadows. Only I can make the killing strike that unmakes him."

There was a clicking sound from the stairwell, and Karnwyr appeared, his nails scratching the surface of the stone as he padded along the walls to rub his head against Kail's leg. Neeshka rolled her eyes --- 'I'll leave the two of you _alone_', in their private language -- and retreated to the steps.

"Neeshka," she called after the tiefling. "Will you ask Grobnar to come up and see me?"

"Sure thing. I'll have him up in two jiffies, as he says."

She spent a few moments in silence, looking out at the farmsteads that lay beneath her. At the moment, they were unproductive. They had lain fallow for years, and though they had been tilled, they would not be sown until spring. She had picked up a thing or two about farming, living in West Harbor. It's what most people were. But she had never envisaged that life for herself. Not that she had ever thought that one day she would be saving Faerûn from an ancient Illefarn Guardian gone awry... it was the small things like that, that made surprises in life.

Grobnar appeared at last, looking rather harassed. She knew that he had been fighting with Sand and Aldanon for use of the Tome of Iltkazar. He wanted it to improve the defences of the construct. Aldanon wanted to use it to find a way into the Claimed Lands. Sand wanted it for any magic and lore he might suck dry from it. Their arguing had been quite vocal, and it was their demands for a fair and impartial arbitrator that had finally driver her up here. She did _not_ want to be caught up in their dispute.

"Grobnar," she said when he approached. "I've been thinking."

"Oh, how wonderful! I do think that thinking is the cornerstone of..."

"Grobnar."

"Right, sorry. What were you thinking?"

"Today, fighting those golems, I realised that if Mister Pointy had been there, I wouldn't have recognised it from any of the others. I could have destroyed it without knowing."

"Not to worry, _I_ would recognise him a mile away, even with other golems present. There's just something about him that is so unique."

"Regardless, I would like you to paint a large, identifying mark on him. Front and back."

"What sort of mark? Something obscure and esoteric, like..."

"I think the letters 'MP' should do the trick."

"Oh. Right. Well, if you decide on a nice alternative symbol, just let me know."

"Will do. Now, I'll let you get back to the Tome. I'm sure you're itching to get back to improving the construct."

"Yes, of course. In fact, I had this idea for..."

His words trailed off as he descended the stairs, and for a moment, all was still. Then there was the sound of heavy, clinking steps. Beside her, Karnwyr growled, and she ran a hand across his head, reassuring him that all was well.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," said Casavir, stepping out into the moonlight that turned his armour silver and made his pale blue eyes seem even lighter than they were.

"You're not disturbing me," she said. It was not a lie, nor was it reassurance. It was simply the truth.

"I thought you should know, a merchant has arrived in the Keep. He calls himself Galen. He claims that he regularly travels between the Mere and Neverwinter."

"Yes, I know him," she said. She hadn't seen him for months, but he had been to every Harvest Fair that she could remember. "What of it?"

"Galen said that he recently passed by Highcliff, and noticed a large number of lizardmen gathered within the confines of the village. He moved on without stopping, and came straight here."

"I see."

"If the lizardmen have attacked Highcliff in force, then we must-"

"In the morning," she said, cutting him off.

"But my lady, when-"

"How many days has it been since I almost died?"

"Nine, I believe. But I don't-"

"You may set off to Highcliff now, if you like. Personally, I need to rest, to recover my strength after facing the Reaver. Furthermore, my friends who have recently travelled to Port Llast and back have not had a moment of sleep since they returned and were forced to deal with our enemies who attacked Callum. I will leave for Highcliff in the morning, along with Neeshka, Khelgar, Ammon, Sand and Grobnar. Zhjaeve will not leave with out me. Bishop hates you more than he hates me. Qara simply doesn't care. So if you wish to leave now, with whoever else you can convince to go with you, then please, feel free."

"I... will wait until morning," he acquiesced at last.

"I'm glad to hear it. Now, I won't keep you from your prayers and your preparations. Thank you for informing me of the situation. I'll advise Nevalle that we'll be leaving at day-break."

He recognised the dismissal in her voice, and left her in peace. Exhausted by the events of the day, by her duel against Light of Heavens and the fight against the Reaver, she sank wearily to the floor, ignoring the coldness of the stone beneath her seat. When Karnwyr rested his head on her knee, she scratched his ears, but did not take her eyes off the moon above.

Blue Moons were rare. Special. Things happened in Blue Moons that did not happen at any other time. Some people claimed that once in a Blue Moon time stood still. She could still remember the last Blue Moon she had seen, some two and a half years ago. That was the night that she had said goodbye to Valear. That was the night when he had left her. Blue Moons had power, it seemed. But, as she already knew, such power was fleeting.


	92. Shifting Winds

_92. Shifting Winds_

_The air was thick and heavy with the clouds of an approaching storm. There was an intangible scent of death carried by the breeze that blew across the land, ruffling her fur. Her sensitive nose picked up the scent, and her keen ears detected the wails and moans of people in their death throes. For some time she was still, assessing the sounds and the smells, observing the clouds as they drew ever near. Then she threw back her head and howled at the moon, summoning the others._

_ They came from far and wide; dusty wolves of the desert, their russet fur paling to gold over their bellies, their ears large and bat-like; white wolves of the Dales, their fur thick and layered, their eyes small and black; and, like her, wolves of the forests and plains, long-legged, quick-stepping canines in grey and black and brown._

_ They gathered around her, sniffing the air, listening to the wind, feeling what she felt. And then they agreed. The shadows were spreading, as they had long ago. Their world had never been safe, but now it was even less so. The ground itself was becoming corrupted, tainting the plants and the trees. Soon they would not even be able to drink from rivers and streams. Already the corruption had begun to spread to their prey._

_ They had two choices. They could run, and save themselves, belaying the inevitable for one more day, or they could fight, risking their lives to bring down their enemy._

_ They debated. Growling, barking, yapping, biting and snapping, they discussed their options in words few men could understand. Their discussion lasted for an eternity that took only a few moments to pass. Then they were decided, unanimously. They would fight._

_ Together they surged forwards, into the eye of the storm, into the heart of darkness itself. The closer they got, the stronger the wind and the scent of death, the thicker the clouds above them and the sounds of the dying around them. They ignored it and ran on into the night._

o - o - o - o - o

Kail woke before the light of dawn had graced the skies and simply lay in bed for a while, casting her mind back over the dream. The small details faded with each passing moment; the feel of dew on paws and fur, the feel of the breeze flowing around her body, the sound of panting lungs and mouths running through the forest.

Why did such dreams come to her now? Ever since she had gone on her vision quest, ever since she had almost died, she had dreamt nightly of strange things. Had she not known any better, she might have thought they were omens, portents of the near future. But that was just ridiculous. More likely her unconscious mind was manifesting its fears as dreams. Lucas said that fear existed to be conquered, to be battled and overcome just like any other foe. But the weapons in the fight against fear were not physical, but mental.

Mostly she dreamt of hunting things. Usually, she was a dragon. Sometimes she was a wolf. Occasionally she was a cat, or an ermine, or a falcon. The bodies changed, but the underlying message did not. Always she hunted, and in turn something hunted her. Some mysterious, unseen force that squeezed the land in a vice-grip, slowly crushing the life from it. Sometimes, in her dreams, she had allies, especially when she was a wolf. At other times she was solitary, like when she was a dragon or a panther. The end result was the same. Whether she was alone or surrounded by others, she had to decide whether to face the fear, to face the unseen force, or to flee from it. She had chosen to fight every time.

Aware that her thoughts were becoming sober, she threw off her blankets and rolled from the bed. She pulled her night-shirt over her head, tossing it onto a nearby chair, letting the cold air chill her naked body. When she had had as much of the cold as she could take, she dressed and sat in front of her mirror to brush her hair.

The eyes that looked back at her from the mirror were both comfortingly familiar and eerily foreign. Though she had not shared her thoughts with anybody, she had come to consider her recent near-death experience at the hands of vampires a rebirth, of sorts. Everybody entered the world the same way. They were wrenched from a warm place, flung into the cold, weak and defenceless. She had been coaxed away from the warmth of the dream-place wolves and their sleeping forms. She had been brought back to her body, cold and almost lifeless. She had been weak and defenceless, unable to protect herself from anything.

And, like a child, she had grown stronger. She had re-learnt how to walk, and eventually how to defend herself. What had come back from the brink of death was her, but also more than her. When her eyes looked back at her, something else occasionally looked back with them. She just wasn't entirely sure what it was. But sitting here staring at herself would not aid her against the King of Shadows. It was time to move.

She grabbed the Sword from the top of the drawers beside her bed, slipping it through her belt. The guard of the handle came to rest comfortingly against her hip, reassuring her.

She stepped out of her room and closed the door behind her. The construct was as motionless as ever, and she wondered if it actually _thought_. Trying to imagine something that was unthinking, unfeeling, it was... simply beyond her comprehension. How could anything function without a mind to process information? Did the golem even notice the passage of time? Or did it live in eternal darkness until its instructions forced it to act?

The more she learnt about golems, the less she liked them. They owed their allegiance to no man, no god, no cause. And whilst there was a certain unclouded honesty about that, anything without a mind of its own could too easily be influenced by others. Like the Illefarn Guardian. Had it a mind of its own, it would have realised that in turning to the Shadow Weave it was harming its people. Instead, it could only follow its programming to the letter.

Nothing good, she was coming to realise, ever came of magically animating suites of deadly armour.

When she turned the corner of the corridor, she almost collided into a tall, warm body. She took a step back, but would not move further, even when Bishop sneered at her. For a moment she was angry with herself. Hadn't she been surprised enough, in the Keep? If she hadn't been so busy thinking about the construct she may have seen or heard him coming. Or smelt the approaching aroma of wet dog.

The last thought was enough to calm her anger and bring a smile to her face. He obviously didn't like her smiling, because he scowled. Then she noticed he was dressed for travel, a heavy cloak over his leather armour and a full quiver at his hip. In one hand he carried his bow, a sleek and polished weapon the colour of dark ash.

"Going somewhere?" she asked.

"Highcliff."

"You don't have to."

"Come now," he said, stepping closer, trying to intimidate her by towering over her. "The Captain of Crossroad Keep asked me to deliver a message to the lizardmen, and now that I know where to find them, I think it's only fair to honour that request. Besides... I get bored sitting around this place with nothing to do."

"Then why are you still here? Why don't you just leave?" she said calmly. He was trying to anger her, but she refused to rise to it. She, at least, would remain civil. For once, the Sword of Gith remained silent.

"Because occasionally you do something that amuses me. Like almost dying." He leant forward, lowering his head, his breath warm in her ear. "Besides... who else would keep you on your toes?"

"Move out of my way," she said, aware that it came out more threatening than she intended. So much for civility.

"Why don't _you_ move out of _mine_?"

They watched each other for a moment, each waiting for the other to move. Kail would never move. She would stand here all day, if necessary. But then again, she suspected he would, too. Not because he didn't want to back down, but because he wanted to spite her.

"Is there a problem?" asked Casavir, appearing behind Bishop.

"No," the both snapped together.

"Very well. May I come past?"

Reluctantly, Bishop stepped to his right, allowing Casavir to pass. Then Kail was forced to step to her right too. When he had clinked away, she took advantage of their unintended truce to move forward, past Bishop, and she ignored him as she carried on walking to the Keep's front door.

Everybody barring Bishop, Casavir and Sand was assembled outside in the courtyard, and everybody was clad in either a coat or a cloak. Qara was wearing one of each, and she shivered violently in the freezing air. Well, a couple of days of marching would soon warm her up.

_Shaundakul, I could really use one of those favourable winds right now,_ she thought silently as she approached her friends. _Preferably with them bringing warm weather and a good deal of rain._ Despite her hopes, she knew that it wouldn't rain. It was simply too cold for it. Any water that fell would be in the form of hailstone or snow.

"Where's Sand?" she asked.

"In the library," said Grobnar. "I think he's afraid to leave Aldanon alone with the Tome."

"We can't wait for him. We'll leave as soon as Casavir and Bishop get here."

"Casavir has gone to fetch my gloves from my room. I forgot to bring them with me," said Elanee. "He shouldn't be long."

The druid spoke true, and within minutes Casavir returned. Bishop showed up a moment later, and Sand finally put in an appearance, huffing his way across the courtyard as they began to file out of the gate. Kail nodded to herself in satisfaction. She had no idea what she would be walking into in Highcliff, but at least their group was large enough to put up a strong defence, if necessary.

o - o - o - o - o

It was a two day journey to Highcliff as the crow flew, but that was under normal conditions. Though the High Road was somewhat clear, they only walked it for the first our or two of their journey. Then they had to strike out across the vast expanse of wilderness that separated Crossroad Keep from the coastal town, with only stone markers, buried under piles of snow, to guide their way.

It was an area of open plains and winding rivers. The snow often drifted to depths above her waist, and Grobnar and Khelgar were forced to walk at the rear of the group, after the snow had already been waded through and compacted somewhat. During those times, Karnwyr was the only one who had true freedom of movement, mostly unhampered by the snow, and Kail envied him. She would have given almost anything to have been able to travel like a wolf during the three days it took them to reach Highcliff.

The maritime climate and storm spray, depositing salt along the coast, kept Highcliff mostly free of snow. As they approached the town, the temperature of the air increased by a couple of degrees, but the wind also picked up, increasing the wind-chill factor and chilling Kail to the bone. When she saw a sign bearing the words _'Welcome to Highcliff'_, she almost sighed in relief. Already her mind was inside the inn, eating warm food, sipping brandy or whisky and wrapped in a warm blanket.

A woman's scream pierced the air, and Kail felt her blood go even colder than it already was. It had been a scream of genuine terror, and Casavir, who was at the front of the group, hurried forward, brandishing his weapon as he ran. Everybody else followed, and Kail was grateful that the Sword needed little direction from her; her hands, even inside her fur-lined leather gloves, were so cold that she couldn't feel her fingers.

Ahead, on the path to the northern side of the village, a group of lizardmen were chasing several humans, spears raised in preparation to strike.

"Neeshka, Bishop!" she called, pointing to the lizardmen. Arrows flew past her, and two of the lizards fell. More arrows followed, along with bolts of fire and magic missiles. In the end, the Sword of Gith was unnecessary -- and she sensed disappointment from it -- because the lizardmen fell to the ranged attacks of her friends.

"Oh, thank the gods you were here!" said one of the men approaching him. A woman clung to his arm, though it was hard to tell whether she wanted his protection or she wanted to protect him.

"Zachan? Gera?" Kail asked, recognising the couple from her first visit to Highcliff. That had been back in the good old days, when all she had to worry about was being caught by the githyanki. Since then, her reasons to worry had begun stacking up on top of each other.

"I recognise you," said Gera with a smile. "You saved our son, and now you have saved us again. How can we ever repay you?"

"Tell me what is happening here. I thought you had a truce with the lizardmen now?"

"We did. And all went fine, for a while. But a few days ago the lizardmen suddenly showed up, setting up a camp on the south side of the road. For some reason they've left the north passage open... but they've not been letting anybody out. They wait here in ambush in case anyone tries to escape."

"But why?"

"Nobody knows. But you should speak to Elder Mayne... he's been organising our defences, what little we actually have," said Zachan.

"Alright, I'll have a word with him. The road behind us is clear, but I wouldn't recommend leaving Highcliff. The weather is pretty harsh out there, you'd mostly likely die of hypothermia before the end of the day."

"We'll return with you, then," said Gera before Zachan could object. "I just hope you'll be able to help us."

As she allowed the couple to lead the way back to the town, she quickly recognised the severity of their situation. More than half of the houses in Highcliff had been abandoned, some with their windows boarded up, others cold and dark inside. One or two storehouses, formerly filled to the top with grain, oats and hay had been completely burnt out. There were no ships in the harbour; the weather was simply too wild to sail anything but the sturdiest of warships.

Elder Mayne looked just as tired and harassed as the last time she had seen him. His face was creased with an equal measure of wrinkles and worry-lines, and he wrung his hands nervously in front of him as he surveyed what few villagers seemed to be left going about their business. When he caught sight of her, his eyes lit up with relief.

"Kail? Kail Farlong? I don't believe it! I never thought I'd see you again," he said. "I heard they made you a Knight-Captain of some Keep."

"That's right, but I heard about your troubles and I've come to help," she said. "Tell me what happened here."

"I don't know much more than anyone else, really. We'd almost finished our evacuation of the Mere when these lizards turned up on our doorstep. They haven't tried to talk, but nor have they attacked. They just seem to want to stop people from leaving."

"How many people are left here?"

"About twenty. All the others have taken the Long Road to Neverwinter. We sent most of the women and all of the children with the elderly, and enough men to guard them. Gera and Juni are the only women left now, and the rest are a few farmers who thought they could take more of their possessions, and the guards. And a good job they were here, too. They managed to capture one of the lizards."

"You caught one? Is it still alive?"

"Yes, but it's in a bad way. It fought its capture and we were forced to harm it."

"Where is it? I might be able to find out from it why the lizards have come here."

"It's in one of the cattle pens in the centre of the village. I'll turn it over to your... care."

"Thank you. I'll see what I can learn from it."

It didn't take long to find the pen with the lizardman; a guard was watching over it warily, though the lizard clearly wasn't going anywhere any time soon. At least, not physically.

"If you wish you ask questions of it, I will need to tend its wounds," said Elanee. "I doubt it will be able to speak through its pain."

"Fix it up, then."

Kail examined the lizardman as Elanee tended its injuries. Its skin was a pale, yellowy-brown, and scaly all over. Where wolf-skin provided fur and protection from the cold, lizardman-skin provided physical protection against harm.

"May I ask your intentions?" said Casavir quietly beside her.

"I intend to ask it why the lizardmen have invaded Highcliff."

"And if it doesn't answer?"

"Then I'll go and find other lizards to ask."

"I am done," said Elanee. "I have healed the worst of its injuries and bandaged the lesser."

"What is your name?" Kail asked, squatting down in front of the lizardman. Its eyes were bright and pained, but it was in a better condition now than it had been. It would probably survive, as long as it didn't exert itself.

"Vlssk," it said with a gutteral hiss.

"What are you and your people doing here, Vlssk?"

"Tribe comes to take back ancestral grounds. Once, all land here is swamp. Tribe's swamp."

"But it's not a swamp anymore, and it hasn't been for a long time."

"It not matter. Batha tell us tribe's past. This used to be tribe's ancestral ground. Holy place. Now tribe want it back."

"Who is 'Batha'?"

"Batha chieftain and shaman of tribe. Of all tribes."

"It isn't useful for a shaman to also be a chieftain," said Elanee.

"Batha not normal shaman. Batha has powerful strength and magic!" Vlssk hissed.

"What sort of magic?" Kail asked. She had come across lizardmen shaman once or twice before, but they hadn't been all that powerful.

"Batha can see into future."

"Is that possible?" she asked Elanee.

"I do not know," the elf replied, her eyes troubled. "But if this... Batha... is both the chieftain and the shaman of all of the tribes, he must be powerful indeed."

"Vlssk, how does Batha see into the future, exactly?"

"Vlssk not sure. Know that Batha, when shaman, dance with shadows in swamp. Shadows ancestor spirits, give Batha great wisdom and power. Batha can see into mind, find truth. But only if mind is open to him."

"Shadows are _not_ ancestor spirits. They are the enemy. And if Batha has been given 'power' by them, then he is dangerous."

"Vlssk not believe you. You are shard-bearer. Batha waiting for you."

"What? How do you know that I'm the shard-bearer?"

"Batha show us image in our minds. Image of you." The lizardman gave a deep, heaving breath. His strength was quickly flagging.

"I want to talk to Batha. Where can I find him?"

"South. He wait for you, but tribe not let you hurt him."

"I don't want to hurt him. I just want to talk."

At last Vlssk could speak no more. He lay down, his eyelids flickering closed, his strength finally exhausted. Kail stood, her knees complaining about the cold.

"Do you think he was telling the truth about this... Batha?"

"I believe so. And it is... disturbing. This chieftain may have been exposed to the same corruption and taint as my Circle were. I am glad that the lizardsmen are no longer in the Mere... away from it, the shadow will not touch them. But we must see how much Batha has been affected."

"Yes. And I'd prefer to know sooner rather than later. Let's go and find Batha."

They left the unconscious Vlssk under the watch of his -- although Kail had no idea if the lizard actually _was_ male -- guard, and she and Elanee walked side by side, south along the road that led out of town. Before long they found a barricade made out of smashed-up boulders and felled tree trunks. And behind the barrier was a familiar-looking lizardman.

"Slaan?" she asked, unsure if the lizard before her was actually the one she had had dealings with in the past.

"You... warm-blood. Slaan wondered if you would come."

"You were expecting me?"

"Slaan not expecting you, but Batha was. Batha said you would come if tribe camped outside warm-blood town."

"Is that why you broke your truce with the people of Highcliff?"

"Yesss. Slaan not want to. Slaan brings some of tribe here, to guard, to make sure rest of tribe doesn't eats warm-bloods."

"Is Batha with the rest of your tribe?"

"Batha comes here. He knows when you reach warm-blood town. But Slaan will tell Batha you are friend of tribe."

"I guess things could be worse," said Neeshka, as Kail and Elanee rejoined them.

"Huh," Khelgar huffed. "If ye'd dealt with the lizards my way in the first place, we wouldn't have this problem now."

"But we also wouldn't have the lizardmen as potential allies," said Kail. "And in this war, I'm not prepared to turn away anybody who is willing to fight by my side."

"I am sure there is much that the lizardmen can do for us," said Elanee. "Their knowledge of the Mere is unparalleled... they may know as much, or more, as my Circle once did."

"I just hope ye know what yer doin', lass."

She nodded, and walked a short distance from the group to sit down on a boulder that had seemingly been dumped from the sky by a huge hand. The three days of travel in harsh conditions had tired her more than she cared to admit to her friends. There were times, as she was marching along behind Casavir, her mind as numb as her toes, when she felt her heart begin to ache. At those times, she knew that she was pushing herself too hard, and called breaks. She couldn't allow herself to pass out again. She couldn't lose control, or Zhjaeve and Ammon would take the Sword again and cage it away behind more powerful magic. If they did that, she would kill them, and damn the consequences.

In a way, the Sword was like a child to her. It had been created by the strength of her body, rooted in the shard that was housed in her chest. It needed her to live. When it was away from her, it cried for her, and she felt as if a piece of herself was missing. The Sword had learned from her, just as a child would learn from its mother or father. She had made her mark on it, left her impression on it, and now it would listen to no other.

To hide the tiredness she felt as she sat on the boulder, she took out the RAMP and pretended to check over its parts. She always kept it fully-loaded these days. After all, if someone took your Sword away from you, it paid to have another lethal weapon close to hand, to get it back. Now she had three lethal weapons. The Sword, the RAMP, and her dragon-fire. And out of all of them, the RAMP was the most unpredictable.

Something cast a shadow over the light crossbow in her hands, and she glanced up at Bishop's face. As usual, it was hard to guess what he was thinking or feeling. Sometimes he hid his emotions as well as Casavir, behind a blank face and eyes that betrayed little. At other times he let his emotions show plainly and unrestrained. But this wasn't one of those times.

"Was that shot aimed at me?" he asked.

"What?" she replied, confused. She hadn't shot at him... the safety catch was still on the RAMP.

"Your little speech about not turning away anybody who's willing to fight by your side."

"Contrary to what you may believe, the world does not revolve around you. Though I wouldn't be surprised if the size of your head and your ego combined provided you with your own gravitational force. Keep it up, maybe you'll acquire your own moon sometime."

"Right. And you're here throwing yourself on the fire out of the goodness of your heart. Nothing at all to do with self-preservation and putting as many people as possible between you and the King of Shadows."

"I'm here because the King of Shadows must be stopped. I'm here because it's the right thing to do. Slink away with your tail between your legs if you want to. I won't force you to go, but nor will I force you to stay."

She purposely remained seated, her posture as relaxed as possible, throughout their verbal exchange. Standing, taking a defensive posture, would only provoke him further. And it wasn't as if standing up would let her loom over him, as he did over her. Height was one advantage she would never have, excepting against Grobnar or Khelgar.

"Shard-bearer," said Slaan as he approached cautiously. "Batha will be here shortly."

"Thank you, Slaan," she said, standing up and brushing snow off her coat. Casually, she strung the RAMP back on her belt. As before, Bishop refused to stand aside, and she was forced to brush past him to follow the lizardman. She ignored him. One day he would force a confrontation between them... but it wouldn't be today. She had more important matters to attend to.

The lizardman approaching from the path was the largest she had ever seen. He dwarfed even Slaan, who himself was taller than her. The other lizards looked like toys in comparison to him. But, like the others, he carried a spear, a sharpened metal point gleaming cold in the sunlight. Ever since Vashne, the corrupted Elder from Elanee's Circle, had tried to kill her with a spear, she had developed a dislike for them. For a moment she slipped out a throwing knife from her bracer and twirled it over her knuckles a few times. Then she slipped it back into her bracer, and waited calmly for Batha to stand before her.

She had once pretended to be an incarnation of the stone god; she did not think that such trickery would work with this lizard. His eyes were too canny, too knowing. And, when he spoke, it was without moving his lips.

_"I know why you have come, shard-bearer,"_ he said.

"How did you learn to speak with your mind?" asked Elanee, before Kail could get in a reply.

_"I have learnt much from the spirits of our ancestors. My visions tell me many things - of future, of past, of layers within the present. Always, I see the shard. Your shard, your wound. It is the wound of my land, always it is in my visions. And now my land is in shadow, the waters poisoned. The sun is cloaked by night, and cannot warm us. I know you are responsible, and so I have waited for you."_

"Is that why you've invaded the village?" asked Kail. "To lure me here?"

_"Yes."_

"But... why? Why not just send a messenger to Crossroad Keep?"

_"I have seen much, and I saw you here, standing before me, shaping the future of my tribe. I knew that these events would come to pass, and now, here we are, just as I saw."_

"Fine. I'm here. What do you want?"

_"To see you for myself. You who will destroy our home, destroy the Mere, with your very presence, your life. The shard within you will be our downfall, as will the Sword that you wield. I came here to stop that from happening. I came to protect my people from you."_

"You've been lied to. It is the King of Shadows who threatens the Mere, not I. My place is to fix things, not to destroy them."

_"We shall see. One more thing I foresaw. We will fight, you and I... though I do not know the outcome. All I know is that the outcome of our fight will decide the future of my tribe."_

"If ye want to fight someone, lizard, fight me!" said Khelgar, stepping forward and slapping his chest. The Gauntlets of Ironfist made a metallic sound as they impacted his armour.

_"You will play no part in this, diminutive one. This is between the shard-bearer and I."_

_This can not end well_, Kail thought as she drew the Sword from her belt. She had quickly grasped the severity of her situation. If she killed Batha, the other lizardmen would swarm her, and probably her friends too. And her friends were greatly outnumbered.

The Sword sang that it didn't matter, and it added 'lizardmen' to the list of her foes to be conquered. But she didn't want to conquer them. She wanted to use them, yes, but then she would let them be free of her. She didn't want to slaughter or enslave them... merely to gain their trust and promise to fight.

They circled each other for a moment, assessing each other, calculating their chances of survival. When Batha struck, it was with speed and precision, the tip of the spear aiming for her chest. She did not like how people were focussing on her chest so much, these days. Why couldn't somebody aim for a leg or an arm? It would make a refreshing change.

She parried the blow from the spear with her sword, and tried to recall what Lucas had taught her about fighting an opponent who was wielding a pole-arm. The advantage of staves and spears was reach. Batha could threaten her whilst remaining out of her striking distance. The disadvantage was length. Once inside her opponent's guard, his longer weapon would be much less effective than her Sword. His needed to be swung or swept; hers could injure on a cut or slice, requiring less space to manoeuvre.

Twice more she parried, then attacked aggressively, trying to break through Batha's guard. The Sword should have sliced cleanly through the shaft of its spear, but instead it bounced off without leaving so much as a scratch on the wood. Whatever the spear was made of, it had obviously been magically enchanted. She wondered if it was another '_gift_' of the 'ancestor spirits'.

Batha changed his tactics, aiming low, trying to entangle her legs in the length of his spear. She stepped backwards, her feet sliding on the snow. The lizardman chieftain picked up on her moment of imbalance and pressed his attack, trying to knock her to the ground. She ducked, lowering her centre of balance, and brought her blade down to block the strike. Then, taking the Sword in both hands, she pushed forward, past his defence, and cut him swiftly several times with the Sword. They weren't deep cuts, not near to where that she might sever an artery, but they were enough to cause Batha to grow wary and cause him pain.

She pushed forward again, striking time after time, trying to wear him down. His caution grew, and he began moving defensively more often than offensively. Finally she was able to push him back, and it didn't take long for him to back himself into a boulder. He was forced to jump aside as she struck, and the Sword bounced off the boulder, chipping the rock and sending up a shower of sparks.

As she turned and struck again, his foot slipped on a patch of ice, and he fell on his back, his spear flying from his hand. Before he could regain his weapon she kicked it away and then kicked him back to the floor as he tried to stand. Then she stood above him, the Sword aimed at his chest.

_"You have defeated me, shard-bearer. Finish it. End my life, and prove my visions true."_

"No," she said, sheathing the Sword. "I want you to help me fight against the shadow. Against the darkness that is tainting the Mere. I don't want to destroy your tribe. I want to make an alliance with them. Vlssk said that you can read minds. If that's true, then read mine. You'll see that everything I've said is true. You'll see where the real threat lies."

_"I will do this. You have already defeated me anyway." _The lizardman chieftain closed his eyes._ "Open your mind to me."_

She expected to feel a foreign presence within her mind, rifling through her memories. Instead, she felt nothing. She wondered if he could even read minds at all, or whether it was simply an exaggeration on his behalf to make him seem more powerful to his tribe.

_"You speak the truth,"_ Batha said, opening his eyes at last. He sounded angry. _"I have almost allowed our enemy to destroy my tribe. I thought that the ancestors of my people had given me my gifts... instead the shadow-walker has used me, sacrificing my tribe in an attempt to kill you."_

"Then fight with us against him. Together we can defeat his army and force him out of the Mere."

_"We will do this. We will see an end to the shadow that stalks the Mere. We will aid you in your fight against the darkness."_

"I'm glad to hear it," she smiled. "We'll be leaving for Crossroad Keep in the morning. Your people will come with us, and we will take the people who remain here in the village, too. The Keep can be your home, until you return to the Mere."

_"Home,"_ said Batha, with hope in his eyes. _"Yes."_

o - o - o - o - o

Rivulets of water ran down the window, forming small streams, diverging, before converging again to form rivers flowing down the glass. Staring at it from the confines of one of the abandoned houses, Kail sighed. She _had_ wished for rain, she just hadn't specified the quantity or intensity.

The wind had shifted suddenly during the afternoon, as she and her companions had been helping what few locals remained to pack their bags. Now, instead of the cold, northern winds from the Dales, which brought with them sleet and snow, they were under the influence of warmer, moisture-laden southern winds. The rain was both a blessing and a curse. It had melted the snow that lay on the ground, and now there were only a scant few patches of white left. Unfortunately, the ground was now saturated and could absorb no more water. The streets outside the houses were flooded, huge pools of standing water covering the impermeable cobble-stone roads.

The lizardmen didn't seem to mind it. They had shunned the shelter offered to them by Elder Mayne, preferring instead to stay outside. It was probably for the best. It would have been a struggle to find space indoors for so many lizardmen, even with most of the abandoned houses to utilise.

She fought down a feeling of unease as she looked out of the glass. The water running down the window panes reminded her of another river she had seen recently.

_She stared down at the red fluid staining the pure white snow as it wound its way downhill, following the contours of the land, coiling in places like a scarlet serpent._

_ "He didn't deserve to die like this," said Nevalle, his eyes on Callum's corpse. The dwarven member of the Nine was just one of the bodies contributing to the river of blood. It leaked from them like river water leaking from a broken dam._

_ "Nobody deserves to die like this," she replied. "We need to burn the bodies."_

_ "You're right. We can't let the funeral rites go untended. We can take them back to Crossroad Keep, for a public funeral. Lord Nasher will wish Callum's body returned to Neverwinter, for an honourable burial._

_ "No. Burn them all. Here. Now."_

_ "But..."_

_ "No 'buts', Nevalle. They were struck down by the shadow, and I don't want them rising up as shadows. The only way to ensure they remain dead is to destroy the bodies completely."_

_ "They will not burn in this weather. Not with the ground so cold, and the trees around covered with frost."_

_ "We will stay and cut down trees for firewood. And I will make sure that they burn." She knew that her statement came out as cold and emotionless, but she did not have time to consider peoples' feelings and emotions anymore. Nor could she allow her reluctant respect for Nevalle to colour her own feelings. The shadow had already used the people of West Harbor against her. It would not use Callum and these Greycloaks too._

_ Some time later she was standing beside the burning pyre, the bodies piled on it already reduced to white bone. The dragon-fire she had brought forth to light the pyre had dried the firewood instantly, and now it burnt under its own impetus._

_ The smell of burnt flesh brought back painful memories of Amie. In one way, Amie had been the first casualty of the war. In other ways, she was simply one of the more recent names on a list of victims that stemmed back thousands of years. But nobody would ever know the name on the top of that list. The man who had become the Guardian had given up his life and become lost to history._

"What are you doing?" Neeshka asked, dropping into the chair beside her.

"Sitting. Thinking. Remembering"

"Anything you want to share?"

"We have to leave tomorrow. Even if the rain continues, we have to go. I can't be trapped here while the King of Shadows moves."

It was only half of her reasoning. She also feared that if she left the lizardmen to their own devices for too long, they would return to the Mere and forget about their promise to aid her in the war. She had to get them away from the Mere before that happened. Out here, they were free of its corruption. If they returned, they would be lost forever.

"I'm not looking forward to walking back in this weather, but if you wanna go, I'll go. I just hope you can convince the villagers to leave."

"I don't intend to give them a choice. They may hate me for making them travel in the pouring rain, but it's better that they resent me and live than like me and die."

"You really think they'll die if they stay?" Neeshka asked. Kail nodded.

"Fort Locke has already fallen. The King of Shadows wants to make sure Neverwinter has no allies to come to its aid. It will strike out at all the settlements along the Mere, then come for Crossroad Keep."

"And that's where we'll kick his magically animated ass!"

"Maybe. If we can destroy him there, all the better. But I'm afraid that he'll send his army and siege the Keep whilst he sits safely in the Vale of Meredelain. Unless we can find a way to strike at him there, this war may drag on for years."

"I hadn't thought of that before. See, this is why you're the Knight-Captain and I'm just a thief."

"Actually, it was Kana who suggested the possibility of a siege. I hadn't given it much thought either. Nobody sings songs about sieges... it's all about one-to-one combat and violent clashes. Sieges are for history books."

"Dinner's ready," Grobnar called from the kitchen.

Together they made their way through the living room and to the kitchen, where the gnome was standing on a chair over a large wood-fire stove. In the pot above the stove was a stew made out of what vegetables the villagers would not be taking with them; old carrots and cabbages, a few mushrooms and diced potatoes, and an occasional tomato.

The houses within the village were not large, and her friends had had to split up, sharing houses between them. She was with Grobnar and Neeshka, whilst Zhjaeve and Qara had a smaller house, Elanee, Casavir and Khelgar had a larger one, as did Sand, Bishop and Ammon.

"It smells lovely, Grobnar," she said, fetching three bowls from a cupboard. The inhabitants of this house would probably never be back, and she knew they wouldn't begrudge her the use of their kitchen in their absence.

"I do hope Mister Pointy is alright on his own," said Grobnar as they took seats at the table. "I'm sure he misses us when we're gone."

"He'll be fine," Neeshka assured him. "And once we get back you can use the Tome of Iltkazar to spruce him up a little."

"Are you sure it's a good idea to make the construct even _more_ powerful, Grobnar?" Kail asked worriedly. "I mean... what if it turns on us?"

"Oh, it would never do that! I've commanded it to follow our instructions to the letter."

"But..."

"I assure you, there is absolutely no way for the King of Shadows to take control of Mister Pointy."

"Well... alright," she said reluctantly. She would make sure Sand kept a close eye on anything Grobnar did with the golem. Not that she didn't trust the gnome, but sometimes his reach exceeded his grasp. He could be a little _too_ enthusiastic at times, and things like health and safety seemed to slip his mind.

Still, the construct was one more weapon in her arsenal against the King of Shadows. And right now, she needed all the help she could get.

* * *

I don't usually add author-notes to the beginning/end of chapters, because I think they can interrupt the flow of a story at times. But I think 500,000 words is something of a milestone, so I'd like to take this opportunity to say thank you to everybody who's read Kail's Story so far, and I hope you've enjoyed Kail's adventures to date. It's taken me three years to write this, and now the end of the story seems a lot closer than it did even three months ago.

I'd also like to say a big thank you to everybody who's reviewed, especially the folks who have given me constructive feedback. I know that Kail is a pain in the ass to read about at times... it's not that much easier for me writing about her. I hope you continue to enjoy the story and the characters in it, despite the fact that they sometimes take themselves where I don't want them to go.

Also thank you to the game writers and developers, without whose initial hard work in creating a great RPG I would not be here right now.


	93. The Unwashed

_93. The Unwashed_

_There was somebody in the room with her. She woke instantly, her body frozen still in the bed as she strained her hearing. In her chest, her heart pounded, and visions of deathly pale figures with cold hands and cold teeth flashed through her mind. She reached for the RAMP, on the cabinet beside the bed, and the figure in the room moved towards her. When it drew close, stepping into the moonlight that shone through the curtainless windows, she relaxed._

_ The two-legged member of her pack knelt down on the floor beside the bed, and when he noticed she was awake he smiled and ran one finger across her lips. Then he glanced at the window, and she nodded. She knew what he wanted. It was time to go hunting._

_ Already dressed, she gathered her throwing knives and sheathed two daggers in her belt scabbards, then followed him silently from the room. Together they crept down the wooden corridor and he guided her around the creaky floorboards. As she followed, her body began producing adrenaline, and a feeling of mischief draped itself over her mind. It was always like this, when they went hunting together. It was a thrill. Something she wasn't supposed to be doing. Something dangerous. Something that civilised people didn't understand._

_ The rest of Highcliff slept soundly. Lizardmen lay curled together in the lee of the houses, ignoring the light rain that fell and moistened their skin. Above, the moon was waning, though it still gave off a substantial amount of light during the infrequent occasions when it wasn't obscured by rainclouds._

_ Silently they made their way through the village, every hair on her body standing on end, every muscle tensed and prepared for what was to come. On the outskirts of the settlement they were met by their four-legged pack member, and as a trio they entered the forest and began seeking their prey._

_ They travelled for some time, sniffing the wind as they jogged, tasting the air, scanning the damp ground with their eyes. The wind was cold, the air fresh, and she breathed deeply as she ran. The clean, fresh air was like a drug, pouring into her body, sending her mind giddy with excitement at the joy of being alive and free to move as she wished._

_ The forest was a mixture of leafless deciduous trees and needle-covered conifers that scratched at her skin as she ran along seldom-used paths and animal trails. This late in the season there were few briars to trip her, but she kept an occasional eye on the ground all the same, watching out for tracks. The few she saw were of little concern to her. One was small and canine; a fox had passed this way not long ago. Quail-prints crossed the ground at one point, a larger set of tracks followed by many small ones. Quails were delicious, but too small to make for a decent meal tonight. _

_ Suddenly the wind shifted, bringing with it the scent of death and decay. She felt her lips curl into a snarl, and noticed the other members of her pack wearing similar expressions. But this wasn't the smell of a dead thing decaying naturally, it was the smell of something long-dead and moving around. Something that was dangerous and did not belong._

_ She drew her daggers as her two-legged pack-mate placed an arrow on his bow and pulled the string taut. With their four-legged companion in the lead, they moved forward silently and cautiously._

_ Several figures shambled through the undergrowth, making no attempts at keeping quiet. They seemed not to see the trees and shrubs in their way, or they simply didn't care to move around them. Their stench was almost overwhelming. For a brief moment the clouds cleared away from the moon, and harsh silver light illuminated the forest. She saw maggots crawling in the eye-socket of one of the shambling corpses, and gave a growl of disgust. Tonight, it seemed, they would be hunting the dead that walked._

_ There was no verbal signal to attack. She simply knew without knowing when she needed to move. It was something that all two-legs had once known how to do, just how wolves knew which prey to target amongst many, and could work together to bring it down without a word or a thought shared between them. It was an instinct, one that was developed over time between members of a pack._

_ The zombie she chose was the one closest to her. As she approached it reached out for her, ignoring the bare poplar branches that blocked its way. She simply ducked and eviscerated it with her daggers, its innards spewing onto the hard forest floor. When it was down, she chose her next target, and attacked again. Meanwhile her four-legged pack-member was pulling his prey to the ground and ripping out their throats, and her two-legged pack-member fired his arrows into the heads of the undead, slowing their progress and sometimes downing them entirely._

_ As she fought one zombie she felt a sharp pain in her left arm, between her shoulder and her elbow. Turning her head, she found another zombie upon her; it had struck out with its rusty sword and sliced through her shirt and her skin. Hissing, she prepared to strike at it, but an arrow went thudding into its skull and she was saved the effort. Instead, she turned back to her antagonist and decapitated the corpse in a single blow._

_ When it fell, no more replaced it, and she stepped back to survey their handiwork. The forest was littered with rotting corpses. But there was little blood. These creatures had not had true life, only false life granted to them through necromancy. Their hearts did not beat and pump blood around their bodies, so when they were cut, there was little blood to spill out._

_ At that moment, the heavens opened up once more, and water began to pour from the sky in a sheet of rain. She moved closer to her pack, so she would not lose them in the down-pour, and they set off again as the rain drenched their fur. The four-legged wolf went first, searching for somewhere dry to stay. The two-legged wolves followed him, trusting to his superior senses._

_ At last he led them to an ancient tree. Its buttress roots had been exposed to the air, and beneath them soil had been long ago dug out to provide a den of earth beneath the tree itself. They crawled inside, and she noted that layers of dry leaves littered the floor forming a deep pile. She smiled. The leaves would help to dry them, and to keep them warm._

_ Rubbing rainwater from her face, she was preparing to bury her way down into the leaf pile when a hand on her arm stopped her. Her two-legged pack-mate was trying to examine the cut on her arm, a light frown of concern playing across his face. She knew the reason for his concern. The wound was probably quite shallow, but had been made with a rusty, unclean blade. If the injury became infected, she could lose her arm._

_ She allowed him to remove her cloak and unbutton her shirt. It was wet, and the material clung to her skin. Gently, he peeled it from her body, taking care at the place where it touched her wound. Though the shirt had been wet, it had kept a small layer of warm air close to her body. Now that she had no protective layer, she shivered, her skin breaking into goosebumps. With an understanding nod, he wrapped her cloak around one shoulder and her body, leaving her other arm free for him to examine it._

_ He took a small canteen of water from his belt and poured it over the cut, and she winced as it stung. Then he washed his knife in the same fashion, and used it to search her wound for any dirt or rusty metal that had broken off inside. He seemed pleased that he found none, and took a small bottle of fluid from one pocket. She knew what was coming next, and wrinkled her nose when she detected the sharp antiseptic smell of the astringent lotion. With a clean cloth he dabbed the lotion onto her skin, holding her arm with his free hand so she could not pull away as it began to sting. Then he produced a bandage from a pouch on his belt, and wrapped it carefully around her arm, tying it off tightly so that it wouldn't come loose._

_ At last he was finished and packed his things away, back into the pockets they had come from. Now that she had hunted, the adrenaline had left her body. Finally she felt calm and relaxed. The tension in her muscles had all but disappeared, replaced with heat as she shivered to keep warm. Edging closer to him, she rested her forehead against his in a comforting gesture. It was this nearness to him that she loved the most. The simple act of touching was enough to quiet her heart and mind and ease all of her pains, washing away her cares and her worries. So she sat there, enjoying the feeling of his warm breath on her face._

_ He moved, sliding away from her for a moment to give himself some space. His leather armour had been drenched in the downpour and was now cold and uncomfortable, growing stiffer as it began to slowly dry. When he struggled with one of the buckles on his shoulder, his fingers white with cold, she helped him, her smaller fingers deftly unfastening the buckle and the leather that it held together. His hard, outer-fur fell from him, and he pushed it away. Then he took the cloak from her shoulders and lay it down on the soft pile of leaves. Unfastening his own, larger cloak, he lay down on hers and gestured for her to join him. When she did, he wrapped his cloak around the both of them, forming a cocoon of warmth that trapped the heat of their bodies close to their skin. When their four-legged companion joined them, lying down beside them, they dozed._

_ An hour or two later the skies relented, and the downpour became a light drizzle, and then stopped altogether. The cessation of rain woke them, and the four-legged wolf left to check the area around the den, making sure no predator had come too close during their period of rest._

_ The haze of sleep still clouded her mind, and she nestled closer to the warm body beside her. He rubbed his rough cheek against her face, then kissed her forehead. Thoughts of going back to sleep quickly fled. Instead, she slipped her hand beneath his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin against her palm, feeling the contours of his muscles with the tips of her fingers. She knew that he allowed her to touch him like no other had before, and for that she was grateful. So she took her time, touching him slowly, running her hands up his chest and across his shoulders, at least as far as his shirt would allow._

_ When he deemed that she had had her fun, he rolled her onto her back and planted soft kisses over every part of her face, exploring her skin with the ticklish touch of his lips. She sank further into the pile of leaves beneath his weight, but she didn't care. His weight was comforting. It was something substantial. His body was something she could hold and be held by. And if the leaves decided to give way and the earth decided to open up and swallow her, at least she would not be swallowed alone._

_ A warm, wandering hand had just found its way up her shirt when the sound of quiet paws came from the entrance to the den. He growled at their four-legged friend, but it was a growl without true threat. The four-legged wolf ignored it. Dawn was approaching, and the others in the village would soon be rising._

_ Sniffing, she realised that the wolf was right. The air had a dewy tang to it, the sort that was often present before dawn. With great reluctance, she motioned for her two-legged pack-mate to rise, and they dressed in their fur once more; she donning her still-damp shirt and he putting on his armour._

_ Outside the den, she stretched, working muscles that had been confined to a small area for several hours. The four-legged wolf started out towards the village, but the two-legged wolf stopped her for a moment, holding her back with a touch of his hand on hers. She stepped close, into his arms, and he kissed her, his lips warm against hers, his body pressed so close that she knew he would have taken her there and then, had she let him._

_ Instead, he let his kiss linger, then looked into her eyes before kissing her briefly one last time. It was a promise, she knew. But he did not need words to convey his message._

_ 'Later.'_

o - o - o - o - o

Standing beneath a doorway, sheltering from the rain, Qara observed everybody moving around the village. Kail was in a foul mood this morning. She snapped at everybody, and now not even Neeshka would go near her. The villagers practically flew around Highcliff in an attempt to do her bidding before she could bring her wrath down upon them, and her lackeys weren't much better. Only the lizardmen seemed unaffected by the bard's temper.

Well, this was what happened when you shared a house with a perverted gnome. No doubt Grobnar was the cause of Kail's bad mood, and Qara smiled smugly. She had warned everybody that this would happen. She had said that the half-man couldn't be trusted right from the very beginning. Now, Kail only had herself to blame.

"Come on, Princess, get a move on," said Kail herself, standing in front of her with a glare. "We don't have all day."

With a sneer, Qara stepped out into the rain, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head. The ground was wet, the air was wet, _she_ was wet. Why did they have to travel in weather like this? Why couldn't they just tell the lizardmen to go to Crossroad Keep, and leave these villagers to their own stupid fate? They were all worthless idiots who looked at her as if she was a piece of meat for sale. On several occasions she'd come close to incinerating some of them as they stood gawking at her, like slack-jawed imbeciles.

_Princess. _It was just one of the nicknames the others used for her. She knew all of them, by now. '_Her Highness_', '_Princess Qara_', '_Lady of the tankards_'... they gave her the names because they thought that she was haughty and demanding. Because they thought that she thought that she was better than them. Well, she was! There was no point trying to deny it. She had power that they couldn't even dream of. At times she felt like she was one with the Weave itself. If you asked her, Nasher was putting his faith in the wrong person. Who better to defeat something that was one with the Shadow Weave than somebody who was one with the Weave? Not some useless bard who didn't even sing anymore. What was _Kail_ going to do? Hit the King of Shadows with her Sword and hope it didn't bounce right off him?

The column of people began to move. Kail was in the lead, of course, with Neeshka and Grobnar not far behind her. Then came Ammon, with Zhjaeve pointedly _not_ walking beside him. Casavir and Elanee followed them, with little tweeting bluebirds of love and happiness flying around their heads. It was enough to make a person sick.

Elder Mayne was leading the group of villagers, who followed him in a line, and the lizardmen flanked them on both sides, providing their services as guards and scouts on the trip back to the Keep. And finally, at the end of the column of people, she walked with Khelgar beside her, Sand behind her and Bishop not far in front. Not that she cared about walking at the back of the procession. It just meant that if Kail rain into trouble, she wouldn't have to do anything to help. Unless it meant using her magic, of course.

She groaned when she stepped into a particularly deep puddle and water flowed over and into her short boots. Her socks were immediately soaked, her feet starting to numb with the coldness of the water. When she took another step, her boots made a squelching noise. This was great. Just great. Now she was going to have to walk the whole way back to Crossroad Keep with cold, wet feet. That meant getting blisters and chilblains.

"Heh, best watch where yer stepping, yer Highness," said Khelgar with a grin. Of course, _his_ feet were clad in solid steel armour boots. He could probably walk through a _lake_ and keep his feet dry. It just wasn't fair.

She looked around for someone to take out her bad mood on, and spied Bishop a few paces in front of her. Though his head was always moving, swivelling from side to side as he scanned the fields and forests for any sign of danger, whenever his gaze travelled forwards, it always went to Kail. He seemed not to notice that he watched her, until a few minutes later he'd shake his head and resume his observation of their surroundings. Then after a brief period of observation his gaze would return again to Kail's back, like a bard forced to repeat the same song over and over again. Suppressing a malicious smile, she hurried her pace to walk beside him.

"I heard your mistress finally kicked you out," she said.

"Shut your mouth or I'll cut your tongue from it," he growled, though his eyes kept scanning the forest around him.

"I'm not afraid of you. Our valiant Knight-Captain would never let you get away with harming me. After all, with the power that I wield, I'm going to be a valuable ally against the King of Shadows. And she _needs_ valuable allies. I don't really know why she keeps you around, though. I mean, if the King of Shadows could be defeated by mere arrows, I doubt we'd be here right now, trying to find a way to stop him."

"Keep talking, Princess. One of these days you're going to go to sleep, and you won't wake up."

"Of course," she said, affecting not to have heard him, "perhaps you _do_ have hidden talents. Perhaps you can secretly channel the power of a god, or cast powerful magic spells, or fix golems and get them working again, or heal somebody who's on the brink of death, or punch through walls with your bare fists, or have powerful contracts with demons and devils. I'm _sure_ that you'll prove everybody wrong eventually, and show that you aren't actually as useless as you seem."

Smiling, she increased her pace, passing by the procession of villagers to walk beside the group at the front of the column. Already she was feeling much better, and she barely even noticed her cold, damp feet anymore. Goading Bishop had been little more than payback for any number of muddy footprints tracked over the floor of the Flagon and glasses of ale spilt over tables when she had been forced to work in that dock-side hell-hole. But in the end, she would show everybody what it meant to cross Princess Qara.

o - o - o - o - o

Sand watched Qara striding to the front of the procession with a malicious smile on her face. He hurried forward a few paces until he was walking beside the ranger, and studied the man for a moment. Bishop had been one of Duncan's regular patrons since before Sand himself had even come to Neverwinter. There was some sort of history between the pair, yet why Bishop chose to stay in the Flagon when he clearly hated Duncan was beyond his comprehension.

"I couldn't help overhearing your conversation with our delightful red-headed sorceress," he said at last.

"I think you mean her conversation with me. And if you know what's good for you, you'll keep your ears out of my business in future," said Bishop darkly.

"Oh, of course, of course. Still, should you wish to carry out your threat, I'm sure I can avail you of items which might protect against somebody who wishes to defend herself in a fiery way," he replied, keeping his voice low so that nobody else would hear.

"Why? What's in it for you?"

"Very little. I simply believe that Qara is dangerous and power-hungry, completely without restraint or common-sense."

"I don't think she's the only power-hungry one you need to worry about right now." The ranger's eyes were on Kail's back, his gaze focussed and intense.

"Ah. You refer to our industrious leader's newfound desire to acquire allies and her confidence in issuing orders around the Keep. Well, that's entirely different."

"Is it?"

"Of course. In the last six months, Kail has been forced to flee her home, hunted by the githyanki and the King of Shadows, learnt that she's the heart of a powerful weapon, discovered that she has the blood of a dragon in her veins, seen her home village and almost everyone in it destroyed, been accused of murder, seen one of her friends die and almost died several times herself. That's a life-time of events in a very short period of time. I'm surprised that her mind is intact at all. I think a few bad moods can be forgiven. As for her alleged power-hungry streak... she's been forced to take care of a Keep that she doesn't want. I suspect she's simply making sure Nasher knows that she's going to do things her way, and not his. Quite remarkable, really, how you can keep bending and bending somebody, and yet they stubbornly refuse to snap."

"Yeah. Amazing. So, what did you want, exactly?"

"Just to recommend that you talk to me if you _do_ feel like making Qara be silent permanently. It may even be necessary to do something about her before too long."

"Her Highness seems to think that she's safe. That she's too important and powerful to be harmed."

"Yes, I heard. You just leave the explanations to me. Kail trusts my advice. If I tell her that it's necessary to deal with Qara, she'll understand."

"Hmph. See that she does. I'm not having her pissed at me."

"More than she already is, you mean?" he smiled. "Naturally, that's none of my business. Have no fear... simply keep my advice in mind, should you feel the need to act on your threats."

He fell back to walk beside Khelgar, his mind more at ease that it had been for some time. He had met many people like Qara before, and most of them in the Hosttower of the Arcane. But Qara differed in that she didn't care for true knowledge, only for power. And power was a dangerous thing to have. Without knowledge, power could rage like a wildfire, consuming all within its path. He had to make sure that when the King of Shadows was destroyed, Qara didn't step up to take its place.

o - o - o - o - o

It was a very sodden Bishop who brought up the rear of the procession as Crossroad Keep finally came into view towards the evening of their second day of travel. Despite the constant rain, they had made good time. Kail had set a fast pace, and all of the villagers had managed to keep up. He would be glad to get back to the inn and changed into something drier. Every part of him was wet, from his armour to his underwear. Rain had always been his least favourite of the elements.

The damp was not the only cause of his somber mood. Though he was loathe to admit it, Qara's words the day before had affected him, made him begin to doubt everything around him. In a way, the sorceress was right. He had no special skills, no special abilities, no special powers. All he could do was track things and kill things. Sure, that had been enough back when the farm-girl needed tracking down after she had gotten herself kidnapped by githyanki, but now Kail needed more than that. He simply was of no use to her. Even when she had been lying in his arms, dying from the vampire attack, he hadn't been able to help her. To save her. She probably wouldn't even notice if he was gone.

Part of him _did_ want to go, to just leave for somewhere safer, somewhere drier, somewhere where the name 'Kail Farlong' had never been spoken. But he also wanted to stay. He had never met a woman who he truly _wanted_ before. He suspected that no matter where he went, no matter how far he travelled, he would always think of her, always want her. For as long as she lived he would think of nobody else. That was something he had to rectify before he could leave.

The procession in front of him stopped, and he almost walked into the back of one of the villagers. He felt a snarl curl his lips. What was the bloody hold-up? They were practically in the shadow of the bloody Keep. Why were they stopping now? Determined to find answers, he stepped around the villagers, making his way to the front of the column, ignoring the rain that trickled down his forehead and into his eyes. His bow was useless in this weather. He had already unstrung it, hiding the string away inside his pack where it would hopefully remain dry. Neeshka had done the same with her short-bow, and Grobnar with his crossbow.

When he neared the front of the group, he caught sight of a tall figure with white hair and yellow eyes. It was the bloody aasimar again, and she was talking to Kail.

"But I have just spent two days travelling from Highcliff," said Kail, and he could hear the irritation and the weariness in her voice. He knew that she still hadn't fully recovered her strength after her near-death experience, though she hid her exhaustion well. "I am tired, cold, and sodden."

"The King of Shadows will not wait for you to become comfortable and strong before striking," said the aasimar. He recalled her name; Light of Heavens. It was a stupid name. So it suited her, really.

"Why are you even here? What do you even want from me? Why should I bother fighting you at all?"

"Because I wish to help you," said the woman calmly.

"Fine. Good. I need all the help I can get."

"But first I must see if you are worthy of my assistance. This is why I test you in combat."

"I would have thought defeating an evil creature would be enough reason for a paladin to fight," said Kail angrily. He knew how she felt. If someone came to _him_ and told him they wanted to help him, then demanded he prove himself worthy of that help, he would probably just gut that person for their stupidity.

"Normally, yes. But I must ensure my skills are not used wrongly, for evil purposes."

"And you can tell that just by fighting against me?"

"Yes."

"Fine. If you want to fight, we'll fight."

"I am glad. This time, I will not be holding back as much as I did last time. But you will not yet feel the full force of my strength."

"Then I won't hold back as much as I did before, either," said Kail, a dark smile on her lips.

He watched as they drew their weapons and began circling each other like wolves searching for weaknesses. The villagers kept well back, away from the fighting, though the lizardmen drew closer, apparently interested in the prospect of a fight. He pushed his way past two of them to stand beside Neeshka, and ran his assessing gaze over the two women before him. The scene was almost ridiculous.

Kail was short, wet through from head to toe, and covered in brown and grey mud from her toes to her thighs. Everybody who had travelled from from Highcliff was likewise mud-covered, and it went almost up to Grobnar's chin. Light of Heavens, on the other hand, was tall resplendent in her shiny metal armour, completely untarnished despite the rain and the mud.

This time, Kail struck first, the Sword of Gith slicing cleanly through the air as she aimed for her opponent. Strange, but even exhausted, pale and covered in mud, she still managed to be beautiful. It wasn't the sort of beauty that would get songs sung about her; as far as looks went, she was quite plain, her eyes her only outstanding feature. But she had a natural beauty, the beauty of a sleek and effective predator as it hunted in its natural environment. The beauty of a tree that was old and had weathered many storms; yes, such a tree might be gnarled and twisted, its bark scored with scars from animals that used it for scratching their claws and rubbing the velvet from their antlers, but it was unique and irreplaceable.

Light of Heavens did not remain clean for long. It was inevitable that as they moved and parried around each other, the sodden ground would be churned to mud, and soon she was almost as dirty as Kail. In addition, the ground was becoming more slippy as their feet moved over it. Layers of saturated soil provided little friction, and soon the pair were slipping occasionally as they fought. But they both ignored the mud, as they had previously ignored the ice.

Blades clashed in the air time and time again, silver and gold sparks flying whenever they met. The Sword of Gith, curved and exotic in its appearance, shone brightly each time it was raised to strike. In comparison, the aasimar's gold-hued blade was straight, and seemed plain in comparison. But its owner wielded it with more skill and expertise than Kail did.

She was out of her comfort zone. He could tell just by looking at her, without even knowing her preferred method of fighting. Though she and the Sword formed a unit, she hadn't had much practise with a single long weapon. Lucas had taught her to fight with two short swords or with throwing knives. She was still learning how to wield the long-sword effectively, and that learning process had been hampered severely when Zhjaeve and Ammon had taken the weapon from her. Precious days that should have been spent in practice were instead spent on planning how to recover her blade.

He focussed his attention on the fight once more when Kail rolled backwards over her shoulder to avoid an over-hand blow from her opponent. She rolled, her feet poised beneath her ready to stand, but instead her feet slipped from under her on the muddy ground. She fell backwards, and the Sword of Gith slid out from her grasp as Light of Heavens stepped towards her to claim her victory.

_Get up_, he thought silently, but instead she simply lay there, watching her opponent step closer. Then, a wall of flames sprang up between them, and he felt his heart pounding in his chest. She was on the other side of the flames, and he couldn't see what was happening. Light of Heavens stepped back, way from the fire that threatened to burn her. And an instant later, Kail stepped through the flames, her Sword firmly in hand once more. He let out a small sigh of relief.

The fight continued in front of the silent audience, the only sounds the rain falling on the ground and the heavy breathing of the women who were fighting. The clash of their swords were like thunderclaps in the heavy air, and he briefly wondered if the guards on the walls could see the fight and hear the sound of battle, and what they thought of it.

He knew that Kail was tiring when her blows became stronger and faster. She knew that she couldn't last much longer in a sustained fight, so she was trying to end it quickly. And her tactic was working. Light of Heavens had to move swiftly to block each blow, and had no time to make an attacking strike. He saw the bard tense, knew that the next blow would be a strong one, and saw her opponent prepare herself for another parry. When Kail struck, Light of Heaven's sword was there to meet it in a block the prevented the Sword of Gith from moving any further forwards.

But Kail did not strike again. Instead, she stepped forward, hooking one leg around the back of her opponent's leg, and pushed the taller woman backwards. As Light of Heavens fell, Kail's hand swept across her belt, grasping the hilt of the knife he had let her borrow. With one hand holding the Sword of Gith, which was pushing her opponent's sword away from their bodies, and the other hand holding the knife, she knelt down, placing one knee upon her Light of Heaven's armoured stomach, to prevent her from rising, and held the knife to the aasimar's throat.

For a moment he thought she would cut the woman's throat. There was fire in her eyes, the same angry fire that had been there when she had held Qara in a similar position, many months ago in the Flagon. But, as it had then, the fire died down, and she pulled both of her weapons away from her downed foe. The fight was over, and she had won.

"That was a good fight," said Light of Heavens as she stood and wiped the mud from her blade.

"I'm glad you thought so. Are you going to help me now?"

"No. There will be one more test, in the near future. But you have earned the right to know what I do. I fight, and I offer myself as a vessel for testing those who wish to know their own strength and skill."

"So now you'll just leave, and then show up again at some random time to challenge me to another fight?"

"That is right."

The aasimar walked away, and the crowd of villagers and lizardmen opened up to let her pass. Some watched her warily, others with admiration, but he turned his attention back to Kail, who was now almost as mud-covered as Grobnar. But she was still beautiful, her cheeks flushed with exertion, her blue eyes alive and animated by her victory. He wanted to go to her and hold her in his arms, to tell her that he was proud of how well she had fought. He knew how that would end, though. As soon as he drew near her eyes would go grey and cold. She would go back to being suspicious and aloof, as she had been since that night when she had told him to leave her alone. Since the night she had told him that she had no use for him.

So he kept his distance, let her friends congratulate her, let her set off back to the Keep with villagers and lizardmen in tow. And in his mind he tried to think of a way to be free of her once and for all.


	94. Last Words

_94. Last Words_

Kail trudged into her suite and put her muddy pack beside the fireplace. Then she waited. For a moment there was silence, and then a knock at the door.

"Come in," she called. One of the servants stuck her head nervously around the door, dropping a curtsey when she noticed the Knight-Captain standing in the middle of the room.

"You sent for me, Knight-Captain?" the woman asked.

"Yes. I need a hot bath drawing. Immediately. And please see to my fire. And I would like bubbles."

"Err, bubbles, Knight-Captain?"

"Yes. You know, white foamy things. In my bath."

"Oh, certainly. I'll see to it right away," said the servant, curtseying again and hurrying from the room.

Though the urge to peel herself out of her cold, damp, mud-caked clothes was almost overwhelming, she forced herself to stand still until servants began arriving with buckets of hot water for her bath and piles of wood for her fire. Before long they had the fire started and the bath began to quickly fill with beautiful, clear, warm water that called to her in a tinkling voice. One of the servants added soap, and stirred the bath with a large wooden spoon, agitating the water so that a foamy layer began to form. As more hot water was added, steam began to rise, filling the air, turning it white with condensation. Then the servants were finished, leaving enough room in the bath for her to displace water with her body-weight. They left the room, closing the door behind them.

With a sigh of relief she began peeling layers of clothes from her body, leaving them in a pile beside the bath. A towel had been left for her by the servants, and this she hung from the mahogany screen, where it would not get splashed with water and soap. Then, slowly, she eased herself into the hot water, letting her body acclimatise to the higher temperature. When she was finally able to tolerate it completely, she let herself sink down into the water, the bubbles rising slightly, and rested the back of her head against the bath.

Smiling, she recalled the look on Nevalle's face when he saw her enter the Keep with twenty Highcliff refugees and an army of lizardmen. It had been priceless. She wished she could have had it framed to hang on her wall for the rest of time. He obviously hadn't expected her to be successful in recruiting lizardmen to their cause. Lord Nasher wouldn't have been able to do it, after all. But, as she was slowly forcing Nevalle to learn, she wasn't Nasher.

Now the refugees had settled into the Keep, some of them signing up to become Greycloaks. The others had joined the rest of the farmers outside the Keep walls, and would tend the fields for as long as was necessary. The lizardmen had also chosen to camp outside the Keep walls. It was a former stronghold of their enemy, and they seemed loathe to enter it. Instead, they build themselves a temporary camp, and even now they were cutting down trees from the nearby forest, using them to build rough shelters.

She dunked her head beneath the water, thoroughly wetting her hair. Then she took the bar of soap from the side of the bath and worked up a lathery foam, rubbing it into her hair, massaging her scalp, working out all the mud she had collected during her travels and her fight. When she dunked her head beneath the water again, washing out the soap, the water was greyer than it had been before.

Closing her eyes, she rested her head on the side of the bath once more, enjoying the sensation of her body floating in the water. It reminded her of her dream, the night before, when they had been forced to camp in the pouring rain with everybody she had brought from Highcliff.

She had dreamt again of being a dragon, of flying freely through the air. But this dragon-dream was not as carefree as the last one she had had. This time, another dragon invaded her territory, and she fought it, high in the skies far above the ground. It was a vicious fight, slashing teeth and raking talons, leathery skin being torn, bodies colliding at speed. She knew that it was allegory. The dream of two dragons fighting was actually a dream about her fighting the King of Shadows. Two powerful creatures duelling for supremacy and survival. Yet another manifestation of her subconscious mind, and all of its fears for the future.

There was a knock on her door, and she sighed. In her haste to jump into the bath, she had forgotten to bolt the door after the servants left. Of course, she could simply tell the knocker to leave, to come back later, but if this was something important she would rather hear it now.

"Enter," she called, and was surprised when Bishop walked into her room. If he was surprised that she was in the bath, he didn't show it. He was still covered in mud, but since she had already tracked a fair amount of mud into her room, it hardly mattered. "Something I can do for you?" she asked.

"Yeah. I heard you gave the paladin a bigger room."

"That's right."

"I want one."

"You want a bigger room?"

"And a bath tub."

"But you spend most of your time in the tavern," she pointed out.

"So? Doesn't mean I can't have a room with a tub. _You_ have one, _Captain_."

"Casavir asked for a bigger room because he intends to share it with Elanee. Do you have a similar excuse?"

"Sure. I heard Ophala's sending a couple of her girls here, to help entertain the troops. Take their minds off the war, or whatever."

"You're trying to tell me that you want a bigger room so that you can hire prostitutes? And that this has nothing to do with your childish competitions with Casavir?"

"You got it."

She fought back a sigh, and recalled the last dream she had had that involved him. How could the man in her dreams, who touched her with such care and tenderness, be the same petty, selfish man who stood before her now? The Bishop in her dreams was warm and responsive, affectionate and playful. The complete opposite of the stranger standing in her room. It was a clear indication of just how strange and disturbing her mind could be, that she should project such attributes onto the person least likely to ever possess them.

"Alright. You can have a bigger room. With a tub. Anything else?" He didn't reply immediately, his eyes glazed and unfocused. She raised one hand out of the water and snapped her fingers, bringing his mind back from wherever it had been.

"No. Nothing else," he said.

"Good. I'll sort it as soon as I'm finished here." He turned and opened the door, and the nefarious part of her mind suddenly seized control. "Before you go," she said, waiting for him to turn back. She lifted the body-brush with its long handle out of the water and held it out slightly towards him. "Will you do my back?"

"I'm not your damn servant," he growled, slamming the door behind him.

She grinned as she leant back again, letting the warm water envelop her body. One part of her mind pointed out that it probably wasn't a good idea to antagonise him further, but right now she didn't care. Baiting him when he was being childish was simply too much fun. She couldn't let the opportunity pass.

There was another knock on the door, and for a moment she wondered if he had returned. But she doubted he would bother knocking a second time. He preferred to simply barge in to her room whenever possible. Besides, this knock was quieter.

"Come in," she called. This time it was Sand who stuck his head around the doorway.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but I thought you should know that Grobnar is 'improving' the construct even as we speak," he said. Well, that explained how Bishop had gotten past the golem. Grobnar had taken it away.

"Thank you, Sand. I'll come down to the cellar shortly. Will you keep an eye on him until I get there?"

"Of course. I intend to watch _very_ carefully what he does with that animated suit of death on legs."

When Sand had gone she gave her body a quick wash with the soap and a brief scrub with the long-handled brush. The water was still warm, but it wouldn't remain that way for long. It was rapidly losing heat to the surrounding air. But it had done its job. It had washed the dirt from her body and the aches from her muscles. Now, there were more important matters to attend to.

o - o - o - o - o

"All done!" said Grobnar, climbing down the step-ladder that he used to reach the construct's armoured torso. In one hand he held a bottle of glowing water, a paintbrush stick out from the top of it.

"Well, it _does_ seem to be standing a little straighter," she offered at last.

"Yes, and this will make Mister Pointy much stronger, too! I'd say he's almost upto the standard of the other golems, now."

"I did notice," Sand whispered to her, "that Grobnar hasn't been overly careful in his recreation of some of the runic symbols which he has painted onto this behemoth of destruction. Loathe as I am to touch this thing, I _could_ try to clean up some of his inscriptions, if you like. Especially if it means preventing it from turning on us and murdering us all horribly as we sleep."

"Do it," she whispered back.

"Ah, Grobnar, may I just borrow that glowing ink for a moment, to make some minor beneficial adjustments?" said Sand, stepping forward and taking the bottle from the gnome before he could even form a reply. He too mounted the step-ladder, and made some alterations to the patterns that Grobnar had painted onto the construct's armour. A few moments later he climbed down the ladder and handed the ink back.

"Thanks," she said, patting the elf's shoulder.

"You're quite welcome. Now, I think I shall return to the library, and resume my study of the Tome."

"You're still not finished with that thing?" she asked, following him out of the door and ascending the stairs.

"My dear, you gave me barely an evening with the Tome before dragging me off to Highcliff to rescue farmers from themselves."

"You didn't have to come along, you know," she assured him.

"I'm beginning to regret not staying behind too. Trudging through fields of mud is hardly my idea of a good time these days. I was quite a mud-trudger back in my youth, and it tends to bring back unpleasant memories."

"I'm sorry to say that I'll be leaving again in the morning whether it's raining or not."

"Oh? Off to anywhere exciting? Perhaps more mysterious lone adventures out in the woods with nothing but a pouch of hallucinogenic herbs for company?"

"Not this time," she said with a wry smile. "Khelgar and I are going to enlist the aid of Clan Ironfist."

"And does he actually _know_ about this yet?"

"I'm actually on my way to telling him now."

"Better get to him before he reaches his eighth pint of ale. Though I must say, you're moving much more quickly than I would have thought."

"In what way?"

"Until now, you've seemed fairly content to let events play out at their own pace. Now you seemed positively determined to rush into battle against the King of Shadows."

"Trust me, I have no desire to ever face him, but I know that it's inevitable," she sighed. "I've just come to realise that the shadow isn't going to wait for me anymore. The King of Shadows has been plotting its return for decades. I've spent six months traipsing around Neverwinter and the Sword Coast in the dark, fumbling blindly, whilst the Guardian knows exactly what it's doing."

"Speaking of blindness, are you finally going to tell me what you were doing alone in the forest on the night when Zhjaeve and Ammon foolishly tried to keep your Sword from you?"

"The book you gave me... the book about dragon disciples?" He nodded. "It described a ritual, a sort of vision-quest, in which a disciple could reach back into the stored memories of his draconic ancestor, and briefly become one with the dragon. It's a way of strengthening and controlling one's power."

"And judging from your fight with the charmingly silent aasimar earlier, I'm going to guess that it worked?"

"Yes. I can control it, now. The dragon-fire."

"I'm glad to hear it," he smiled. "Though I had deduced as much when you gave me the list of herbs. I trust your visions were suitably... colourful?"

"Very much so."

"Captain! Captain!" The elderly voice echoed down the corridor, and Kail groaned. Aldanon seemed to know _exactly_ when she was nearing the library, and sure enough his body followed his voice a moment later as he searched for her. His stained grey robes swished along the ground, and she noticed that he wasn't wearing any shoes or socks. Strange as she found it, she was simply glad that he had remembered to put on his robe today. Sometimes he didn't.

"Let me guess," she said, casting a knowing glance at Sand, "you've come with some remarkable discovery. Ground breaking news, I'll wager."

"No doubt something that will put my life in jeopardy soon enough," the elf added.

"Well, yes, I do have news..." said the old man, seemingly taken aback by their astute guess-work. "You see, I've made some progress on finding a way to breach the Claimed Lands and enter the Vale of Merdelain."

"Great," she said, feeling elated and disappointed at the same time. "Tell me about it."

"Well, you won't turn into zombies once you enter the Vale, which I think is quite a good omen. But, you see, the life-draining effect of the King of Shadows isn't stronger in the center, as expected... it seems to be strongest at the edges of his territory, where it spreads outwards. So while you couldn't walk there, if we could 'hop' over the wall, so to speak, then that would give you your best chance at striking at the King of Shadows. Maybe because he's already drained the life from the Vale outwards. More life's around the edges, so maybe that's where the effect is concentrated... kind of like the delicious icing on a foul dark cake."

"So... how do we hop over the wall?"

"Ah, well, that is the problem. To do that, we'd need to create a portal, and then tell that portal where to create its other end. Can't just have it appear anywhere, you know. It has to appear in the Vale."

"I don't know, I kinda like the idea of the other end appearing on some remote beach somewhere, with warm sun, warm sea..."

"And some of those colourful cocktails with tiny umbrellas in them," finished Sand. She grinned at him.

"Well, yes, we all enjoy the tiny umbrellas, but I don't think they'd be much use against the King of Shadows," Aldanon said doubtfully.

"Unless he has a strong aversion to small, pointy, brightly-coloured things," said Sand.

"Do you really think that..."

"Aldanon," she said firmly, spotting his mind detouring towards a tangent. "Tell me how we can get through the Claimed Lands and into the Vale."

"Yes, yes, of course. Well, when Garius invited me-"

"Kidnapped," Sand interjected.

"Yes, like I said, when he invited me to this Keep, he had me working on the Tome of Iltkazar. He was using it to teleport his army of unstoppable golems, you see. I managed to translate a little of it, but mainly the stuff that pertained to the dark ritual he intended to use to become the master of the King of Shadows. But now that I have the Tome back again, I should be able to decipher the rest of the book and learn how to create one of these portals."

"How long will it take?" she asked, desperately trying to work out in her mind the which parts of the Keep still needed fortifying, and how many Greycloaks still needed to be taught how to swing their swords without lopping off their own heads.

"Oh, I don't know. It's a bit like a piece of string, really. It's as long as it is, and you don't really know how long it is until you've measured it. But first it needs to be cut. I'll let you know when I've managed to find my scissors." He ambled back into the library, muttering to himself about demon's blood and quicksilver.

"I'd better go and keep an eye on him, or he really _will_ spend the next tenday looking for scissors," Sand sighed. "I had to hide them, you see. It's not good to leave him around sharp instruments for very long. A bit like you, really."

"Thanks Sand," she grinned. "And don't worry about hiking to the Ironfist Stronghold with us tomorrow. I'm sure everyone else will be along for the fun. This is just a diplomatic mission. We'll go there, have a bit of dwarven ale, let Khelgar toss a few people around, shake a few hands, maybe have a feast, and be back in no time."

"I'll see how I feel in the morning. As much as I enjoy sequestering myself in a musty room with a demented old man who keeps asking where his pickled onion sandwiches are, I do like to see fresh air every now and again. Besides, I get the feeling you're running out of trustworthy people to watch your back."

"You don't trust Ammon and Zhjaeve either?" she asked, surprised. He'd never been a vocal opponent of either of them.

"My dear, I wouldn't trust any of your friends as far as I can throw them. Except perhaps Grobnar. He's simply far too eccentric to be untrustworthy. But enough of this idle chit-chat. I have a senile human to attend to, and you, I believe, need to find Khelgar before he drinks himself into a stupor."

"Right. Thanks Sand."

She waited until he'd entered the library before making her way to the front door of the Keep. The Greycloaks standing at attention beside it saluted her, and she nodded affably to them. Her hot bath had done wonders for her mood. She no longer felt quite as exhausted as she had. The shadows that had previously seemed to creep in on her now retreated to the farthest corners of the rooms. But even though she felt relaxed, she was still wary, still cautious. The King of Shadows was still out there, and no amount of hot baths would ever make him go away. Closer to home, she had other problems to deal with. Ammon and Zhjaeve would try to take her Sword from her at the first opportunity. Bishop's 'price' was still unclaimed. Nevalle still wanted to tie her to the Keep. Nasher still wanted her to throw herself upon the sacrificial pyre. She could relax her guard, a little, but she could never let it truly go down.

The mood inside the tavern was merry. One minstrel was playing a pipe and another strummed at a harp. Though nobody danced, several Greycloaks sat enraptured by the tune. For a moment, she felt a pang of regret over her own lost instruments, left to decay in the ruins of West Harbor. She quickly pushed the feeling away. She could never sing another joyous song or play a beautiful melody whilst the bones of her people lay cold and alone in the remains of her village. Playing happy songs, doing happy things, would dishonour their memories. They'd been dead for only mere weeks. So many lives, so many families ended in one vicious blow... no, it was too soon for her to do happy things. When she had defeated the King of Shadows, when she had sought vengeance for her people, when she had freed their souls from his dark clutches, then she could celebrate. Then she could rejoice, and be happy. If she survived.

As expected, Neeshka and Khelgar were sitting at the bar. He was having a drinking contest with a hopefully off-duty Greycloak Captain, whilst she was watching the minstrels with a light smile on her lips. Both of them had bathed and changed clothes since returning; they were clean again, their armour untarnished. At one time, they had only had one set of armour each. Now almost everybody who travelled with her had two or three sets. Mainly they used what they found during their exploration, or traded what they found for goods of equal, and often better, value. Sometimes it paid to be the Hero of Neverwinter.

"Khelgar," she said, shooing the Greycloak away and taking his seat for herself, "I'd like to leave tomorrow to visit your Clan."

"Of course, lass. I'm sure they'll be pleased t' see ye again. Are ye going to ask 'em about an alliance?"

"That's right."

"About damn time! I just hope they're not sour that lizardmen got here first."

"Don't be such a grouch, moss-breath," said Neeshka. "So, who's going with us?"

"Well, you two, obviously," she smiled. "I was thinking of bringing Grobnar along... and Mister Pointy."

"What, that walking death-trap?" said Khelgar.

"I hear that dwarves have a keen appreciation for such things, especially when they're well-constructed. I'm hoping they'll be impressed with the golem."

"I'd be more impressed if it could dispense ale from its arm, instead of violently expiring anything it comes into contact with," he grunted.

"Right. Well. I want to keep Qara away from this trip. It's a simple diplomatic journey, and she's too much of a loose cannon right now. I don't want her insulting somebody and ruining everything."

"Best keep the githzerai away, too. My people can be wary with outsiders. I mean, ye saw how they were with ye last time, and ye're from the same Plane as them!"

"Okay. No Zhjaeve. And Ammon can stay here too. He can help Aldanon with the inscriptions in the Tome."

"Ooh, they're not going to like being told to stay behind," Neeshka grinned.

"My heart's bleeding," she said dryly.

"S'pose I better call it a night then," said Khelgar, patting his belly and belching loudly. A couple of the Greycloaks cheered. Whether they were cheering at his belch or the fact that he was going to bed and therefore leaving more ale for them, she couldn't guess.

"Yeah, me too," said Neeshka, stretching her arms above her head. "It's been a long day. Don't stay up too late, Kail. I know you must be exhausted after fighting with that smelly aasimar."

"She didn't smell too bad to me," grinned Khelgar.

"That's because you don't have my keen senses for all that is holy and good and therefore awful smelling."

Kail smiled as they left the room together, keeping up the light-hearted tirade. Sal seemed to relax a little when the dwarf had gone, and she could easily sympathise with the man. She hid a smile as she thought of what he'd be like when a whole clan of Ironfists were housed inside the Keep. He'd probably have a nervous breakdown.

"Did I hear you correctly?" said Elanee, appearing from the other side of the common room. "You're going to be travelling to Khelgar's Clan, on a diplomatic mission?"

"That's right. You don't have to come, if you don't want to."

"Really? Are you sure you won't need extra help?"

"Of course not. It's just a simple journey. We'll be fine."

"Thank you," the druid smiled gratefully. "I am not fond of being underground. And I would like to spend some time with Casavir. But if you need me to go, I'll go. Please don't think that now you've helped me learn the fate of my Circle I'm just going to abandon you. I'll help you however I can, and if you'd like me to go..."

"Elanee," she interrupted with a smile. "Stay. Relax. Enjoy yourself. You've done more than enough already. Take this time to do something that will make you happy... you may not get another opportunity like this."

"Thank you, my friend. Let me know if you change your mind."

"I won't, but thank you for offering. How are things going, anyway? I know we haven't had chance to talk much... and that you don't really like talking about this stuff. Are you still happy?"

"Yes. Happier than I've been in a very long time. This is all very new to me. When my Circle found me in the Mere, I was but a child. I grew up around them, lived my life with them, and although I was loved, I knew nothing of being _in_ love."

"I never realised that your life was so sheltered."

"It wasn't entirely," Elanee smiled. "In a way, I felt like I lived vicariously through you. I saw you growing up, trying to find a place to fit in, learning new things... and it was as if I was doing those things myself. Though I must admit, I'm glad that I can finally start making my own choices, and living my own life."

"Living vicariously through me must have been pretty boring," she said wryly.

"Not at all. The twenty years flew by like twenty minutes, and I learnt much from watching not only you, but the people of West Harbor too. I felt like I was one of them... albeit invisible and unknown to the people."

From the corner of her eye, Kail caught sight of Casavir looking lovingly at Elanee's back. His face was softer when he looked at the elf, not as stony as it usually was. He, too, was happy, though he didn't show it quite as much as Elanee.

"I'll let you get back to your drink," she said, patting the druid on the shoulder. "Make the most of the next few days. I'm going to be bringing an army of dwarves with me, so enjoy the peace and quiet whilst it lasts."

She left the tavern before anybody else could corner her. The last few days had been physically and mentally tiring. Now she wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for the whole night. She wouldn't leave _too_ early in the morning this time, though. After all, with a smaller group, and no Qara to slow them down, they would travel more quickly than usual.

Though the hour was not overly late, the Keep was quiet. She had given both Kana and Nevalle the night off, and most of the Greycloaks were keeping their heads down now that their Captain had returned. Not that they got away with much when Kana was around. Bevil was right; the woman was _very_ strict with the men.

After briefly stopping by the cellar once more, to confirm that Grobnar was happy to travel to the Ironfist Clan and bring the construct along, she went straight to her room, too tired to bother anybody for food. Food could wait. Right now, sleep took priority.

When she stepped into her room she found Bishop waiting for her in front of her fire. He was without his bow, and Karnwyr was nowhere in sight. His former sullen expression had disappeared, replaced with the same predatory look she had seen on his face when he hunted Luskans. She had to resist the urge to reach for the RAMP attached to her belt.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked as she closed the door behind her. She stepped away from it; it felt comforting to have something solid at her back, but she knew that he would interpret that action as a sign of weakness, a sign that she was afraid of him and did not want to get any closer. She definitely was _not_ afraid of him. Not when she could incinerate him on the spot. She was simply a little wary.

"Your room? No, I haven't forgotten, I've just been busy," she said.

"I bet you weren't too busy to pander to the paladin's whims. Something tells me you ran off right away as soon as _he_ asked you for something."

"What's your rush? None of Ophala's girls are here yet. And if they do show up within the next couple of days, you can use my room whilst I'm gone. I'm sure that will impress the whores."

She could tell that he was torn between wanting to insult her back for her insinuation that he wanted to impress prostitutes, and wanting to ask where she was going. For a moment, the look in his eyes flickered in uncertainty, and at last the latter half of him won out.

"Gone where?" he asked.

"To Clan Ironfist, to form an alliance with the dwarves."

"Maybe I should go with you, then." He crossed the room and stood in front of her, raising one hand to run his fingers down her neck, along the same area of skin that one of the vampires had bitten into to drain the life from her body. "Just in case something happens to you."

"What, you care about my welfare now?" She forced herself to stand still, to meet his eyes, to ignore the touch of his fingers as they travelled across her throat to the other side of her neck. She wasn't particularly fond of people touching her throat... not since Lorne had almost killed her by attempting to crush her windpipe. But of course, if Bishop knew that, it would only give him an excuse to make her even more uneasy.

"Not at all. Think of it more as... protecting my investment. I intend to make sure you stay alive, until I've claimed what I want from you."

"Then why don't you just claim what you want now and get it over and done with?"

He leant forward, his cheek brushing against hers as his mouth hovered next to her ear. As if he could read her mind, and knew how on edge it would put her, his hand moved to her throat, his cool fingers wrapped around her neck. Her fingers curled, her nails digging into her palms to prevent herself from reaching for one the many weapons at her disposal. Her mind screamed at her to lash out at him, to make him stop touching her. But her body knew better. If she reacted to him, he would use it as an excuse. If she pushed him, he would push back. And right now, she was at a disadvantage.

It was her own fault. Everybody had told her not to challenge people. Everyone had told her that her 'do your worst' attitude would one day get her into trouble. She had let him get this close to her because she hadn't been willing to back away. She had put herself in this position and now she had to prevent the situation from worsening. She just didn't know how. If she struck out at him, he'd strike back. If she backed down, he would see it as weakness and use every opportunity to put her down. It was a no-win situation. All she could do was nothing.

"Because you still don't have anything I want," he whispered. "Besides. You attempting to be diplomatic is something I want to see."

"I can be diplomatic... when I want."

"Right. I mean, it's not like you keep Nasher waiting for as long as possible every time he crooks his finger. Yeah, you're a real ambassador."

"This mission is very important," she said firmly. "I won't have you doing anything to jeopardise it."

"Don't worry. I can behave... when I want."

"I'll believe that when I see it."

"Tell me something," he said, the harsh edge disappearing from his voice. "I've never had a _noble_ before. How do your kind like it?"

She smiled, and stood up on her tiptoes, leaning towards him so she could whisper in his ear.

"If you want to know," she said huskily, "why don't you ask Nevalle to show you?"

"He's not my type." He stepped away from her, taking his hand from her throat. Immediately the voices in her mind became quiet, no longer shouting at her to hurt him for being so importunate.

"Shame. I think you're his."

"Really? I had him pegged as more of a Casavir man, myself," Bishop grinned. "But I can tell we're going to have another early start tomorrow, so I'll leave you to your beauty sleep. Right now you look like you've been dragged backwards through the Hells, so you should probably get as much as you can."

"Flatterer," she said dryly as he left the room. When he was gone, she bolted the door, leaning back against it to take a deep breath. That bloody man! Why couldn't he just decide whether he wanted to kill her or bed her? One moment he was cold, the next he was hot. Talk about bloody contradictions.

Stepping to her mirror on her desk, she placed a hand across her throat, over the place where his own hand had lain. She knew what he was doing; he was proving that he _could_ hurt her, if he wanted. His hands were strong, capable of gripping with great strength. She had seen him holding his bow enough times to know the strength in his hands and arms. Had he wanted, he could have closed her windpipe off easily, killing her through strangulation. But he didn't _need_ to do it, as long as he knew he _could_ do it if he wanted. The moment she took that away, the moment when he realised that he _couldn't_ do it if he wanted, was the moment when he would strike. She was sure of it.

She wondered what her mother would make of all of this. Not just the difficulty she was having with Bishop, but the Keep, her being a Knight-Captain... everything. And what would Shandra say about this, if she was still alive?

No doubt she would be pleased that her grandfather still lived. And she would be happy for Casavir and Elanee. She would probably congratulate Grobnar on his work with the golem. She'd make sarcastic comments about Khelgar, the Ironfists and ale.

But such speculation was pointless. Shandra was gone, and she would never return. Her last words had been heard by Ammon Jerro alone, and she would never speak again. Taken by the strong urge to write something, Kail went to her desk and seated herself, then rifled inside one of her drawers for a blank piece of paper.

Dipping her quill into the ink bottle, she stroked her chin with its feathery end for a moment before putting the nib to the paper. It made a scratching noise as it moved across the page, filling the emptiness with her curling, elegant writing. When she came to the end of her sentence, she sat up straight and read it back silently.

_'When the last words have been spoken'_.

After that, her mind became blank, and she carefully blotted the words before putting the paper back in her drawer, the ink and quill following it. Sometimes, things just needed to be written down. If there was anything else to write, it would come to her later. For now, this was all that needed to be said.

She blew out the candles in the room and changed for bed. Then she nestled down under the covers, relishing the feeling of the warm blankets wrapped around her body. She was briefly reminded of her dream two nights ago, the dream where she and Bishop had curled up in a pile of leaves with his cloak wrapped around them. But she quickly dismissed the image. Dreams were nothing more than flights of fancy, and for the moment, she had too much reality to deal with.


	95. Ironfist Redux

_95. Ironfist Redux_

Kail woke the next morning to bright light and birdsong. For a moment her mind was fuzzy with the last vestiges of a forgotten dream, and she struggled to recall her plan for the day. Then she remembered; today she was travelling to the Ironfist clan, to forge an alliance. With a smile, she drew back the covers and slipped out of bed. Every soldier was capable of dressing in less than a minute, and Kail was no exception. Off came the cotton shift, replaced by her underclothes. She stepped into her plain brown trousers and belted them at her waist, following them with a long white shirt with small ruffles at the sleeves and neckline. Thick socks were pulled onto her feet, which had gone numb with the coldness of the stone floor, and she donned her boots last, tucking the bottom of her trousers into them, so that they would not trail and get dirty, before lacing them up to just below the knee.

Like any soldier, she wasn't complete without her weapons. The first weapon she touched every morning, and the last one she touched every night, was the Sword of Gith, and this she now picked up, fastening the wide black belt at her hips so that the Sword hung from her side in its specially made scabbard. Because it never hurt to have a backup weapon, she slipped the enchanted dagger that Bishop had loaned her into an inside pocket of her light brown leather coat, which she pulled on over her shirt and left open. This was followed by the deadly RAMP, its hanging string looped under her belt and fastened to a small hook, so that the weapon bounced against her right thigh as she walked, on the opposite side to the Sword. For her own safety more than anything else, she made sure that the safety catch was on, and that the weapon was unloaded.

Force of habit made her stop at her bedside table and take out a pair of stiff leather bracers. They were the same bracers she had worn when she left home. Her father had made them for her, some time ago, when he had still held hope that she might show some aptitude for archery. Lucas had long since helped her customise them to hold and conceal small knives, and several of these knives she now took from the drawer. They weren't like normal knives. They weren't for cutting or slicing. Where a handle would be, there was only a bare tang, thicker than the blade but with weight finely balanced to allow them to be thrown accurately. Two of the knives were slipped into her bracers, and two more into hidden pouches in her boots. Another two were concealed on the inside of her belt, which likewise had small pouches sewn into it.

When she had first left the Mere, she had been almost entirely reliant on her throwing knives. And, for a while, they had been enough to keep her alive. But then she had started going up against things that knives didn't do enough damage against. And so slowly, her style progressed from throwing knives and avoiding close combat, to engaging her foes immediately. Whether or not Lucas would approve, she did not know.

For a moment she stopped in front of the long stand mirror Veedle had sneaked into her room some time ago. Her own eyes, grey in the daylight, stared back at her beneath a tangle of brown hair. She ran her fingers through it several times, but only succeeded in making it static, so that now some of her hair was trying to push itself off her scalp. It made her look, she thought, like a particularly dark, well-armed dandelion.

The Kail who looked back at her was the same Kail who had left West Harbor last year... but she was also very different. That Kail, the one in the past, had been young, inexperienced, somewhat naive, and unsure of herself. The Kail who she was now was older, in more ways than one, and knew things that she had never wanted to know. She knew, now, about politics, about war, about death, about torture, about sacrifice, about loss, about what she was capable of.

When her darkening mood began to threaten the happiness she felt at going leaving the Keep for a simple diplomatic mission, she left the mirror and left her room, hoisting her pack onto her back and carrying her tent in her arms. The golem was not guarding her door, but two Greycloaks saluted her from across the corridor. Kana kept a constant guard on her room, these days. Greycloaks watched from outside her door, from below her window, and from the battlements above. Any more servants of the King of Shadows would find it hard to sneak into her room, especially since Sand had warded her window and Neeshka had trapped her chimney flue. Anything trying to steal into her chamber would meet nasty surprises.

She greeted affably the Greycloaks who saluted her, and spent a few moments going over some last minute instructions with Kana and Nevalle. Then she left the Keep proper and made her way down to the tavern, which was remarkably quiet for once. Only a few Greycloaks were here, throwing darts at a board Sal had put up previously. He tended not to let them play in the evenings, when they'd had a few drinks, owing to a strong tendency for the darts ending up in patron's bodies. But during the day, when most of the 'Cloaks weren't drinking much alcohol, he was happy to let them play.

Leaning casually behind the bar, Sal perked up when he saw her enter. He studied her clothes, her weapons and her bag, then nodded to himself.

"So you'll be wanting a big breakfast to see you off to wherever you've going?" he said.

"If it's not too much trouble."

"Of course not. No trouble at all."

As Kail took a seat at a table beside the empty fireplace, Sal disappeared into the kitchen. He always cooked her breakfast himself. Whether he thought the cooks might try to poison her or whether he just didn't trust their standard of cooking, she did not know, but she never complained. Sal was possibly the best cook in Neverwinter, and he could do things with bread that would make housewives seethe with jealousy.

For a few moments she let her mind wander. She briefly listened in on the Greycloaks' conversation as they played darts - they were talking about what they might expect on their next patrol - then cast her mind back to the Ironfist stronghold. The last time she had visited it, it had been a bugbear-infested network of dark, damp, crumbling caves. Khelgar seemed sure that his clan would have restored it to some of its former glory by now, and he seemed equally confident that they would want to stand with Neverwinter against the King of Shadows. Kail hoped that he was right.

Sal reappeared a few moments later, bearing a large plate of food and a cup of raspberry-leaf tea. The aroma of hot food rose from the plate, filling her nostrils, making her stomach rumble in anticipation. All too often, the meals she got were hurried, squeezed in between meetings and reports. Now, she had time to savour a meal, and she was going to enjoy it for as long as possible.

A large and varied breakfast greeted her. Rashers of bacon were laid out end to end in a semi-circle, with two poached eggs above them, and two herb sausages above the eggs, giving her the suspicion that Sal had tried to make them into a smiling face. Heaped above the eggs were a pile of fried mushrooms, looking, in a very abstract way, like hair. Two hot plum tomatoes by the side of the eggs could easily be ears, but she had no idea what the stack of toast, piled at one side of the plate, was supposed to represent. Obviously, Sal hadn't been able to couple toast with any particular facial feature.

Loathe as she was to destroy the culinary art, her stomach demanded food, and she tucked into her breakfast, stopping only to sip tea. Halfway through her feast she heard voices outside, possibly summoned by the smell of cooked food and the potential for breakfast.

"There ye are, lass," said Khelgar, stepping into the tavern with Neeshka on his heels. Bishop followed her, and they all pulled a chair up to her table. Neeshka spun hers around, sitting on it backwards so that she could rest her arms on the high back.

"Whu 'Obna?" Kail asked, swallowing a mouthful of toast that seemed determined to stick in her throat.

"He's outside with the construct," said Neeshka. "Said that Mister Pointy prefers waiting outside."

"Bloody gnome," Khelgar grumbled. Bishop snatched a piece of bacon from her plate, avoiding the fork she tried to stab his hand with.

"Aww, eating from her plate. How cute," Neeshka snickered.

"Shut it, vixen," he snapped.

"Get your own food if you want some," said Kail.

"I already ate," he shrugged, biting off a piece of bacon and throwing the rest to Karnwyr. The wolf caught it in his jaws and swallowed it within two seconds.

"Barkeep, I'll have a plate of what she's having, and a tankard of ale to wash it down!" Khelgar called to Sal.

"You already ate with us, stumpy," said Neeshka, wrinkling her nose. "And don't you think it's a little early for ale?"

"It's never too early fer ale," said Khelgar solemnly.

"He's got a point," said Bishop.

"You guys take your time," said Kail, pushing back her plate with a contented sigh. She hadn't eaten it all, but she couldn't eat another bite. "I'm going to get some fresh air."

Outside the tavern, a Greycloak patrol was leaving the Keep, passing beneath the high archway in double-file. Watching them was Grobnar... he appeared to be pointing things out to the construct, which was giving no indication of listening to him.

"Ooh, and over there is where the Greycloaks do their training with Officer Kana," said Grobnar, pointing at an area of bare earth and combat dummies.

"Hey Grobnar," she said, dumping her pack and tent by the construct's feet.

"And..." Grobnar prompted with a hopeful gleam in his eye.

"And good morning Mister Pointy," she sighed.

"He'd return the sentiment if he could, I'm sure of it. I've been trying to get him to interact a little more with his environment. I mean, it's all well and good just following our orders and hacking our enemies into hundreds of little chunky bits, but that's no life for a clever creature like him. A couple of days ago, I saw him looking longingly at a stone. I'm sure he's getting smarter the longer he spends with us, you know."

"Only indirectly proportional to your own intelligence, Grobnar," said Sand, approaching with a pack on his back and an armful of books.

"Sand!" said Kail with a smile. "So you've decided to join us after all?"

"Indeed. Aldanon and his assistant seem quite capable of continuing his research on the Tome alone. I believe that my calm and structured way of working simply confuses the poor man."

"Well, yes. Aldanon tends to be confused by socks, so it's not hard to understand how he'd find your structured methods confusing," she said dryly. "If you're hungry, everybody's having breakfast in the tavern. Well, Khelgar is, but he's probably eating enough for everybody else too."

"No, no, I'm quite alright."

The others chose that moment to leave the tavern, Khelgar belching loudly and patting his stomach.

"No better way t' start a journey than an ale fer the road," he said.

"Everybody ready to go?" Kail asked. There was a chorus of 'yes', though Khelgar shuffled on the spot for a moment.

"Er, lass, d'ye mind if I walk at the front fer a change?"

"Of course not, Khelgar. I understand how you feel... we're going home to your people, so you deserve to lead the way."

"It's not that... it's just that walking behind a bunch o' human and elven backsides all the time isn't such a pretty sight."

"Oh. Grobnar, do you want to walk at the front too?"

"No need," he smiled, tapping the construct. "Lift me up, Mister Pointy!" The golem reached down with its huge open hand, plucked the gnome from the ground and placed him on its shoulder, carefully avoiding skewering him on the spikes of its armour.

"The maker of that golem must be rolling in his grave," said Sand.

"You know," said Bishop, eyeing Grobnar thoughtfully. "If we rode, it'd mean getting to the dwarven hole a lot less mud-covered than we usually end up on these treks."

"Bah, riding! Yer own legs should be good enough fer ye, laddie!" said Khelgar in disgust.

"I'm all in favour of not having to trudge along the mud-covered, cow-dung smelling roads, charming as they are," said Sand.

"Alright," Kail relented. "Neeshka, do you want to ride too?"

"No thanks. I'd rather arrive muddy than smelling of horses."

"Just give me a few moments to tell the grooms to saddle up three horses, then, and we'll be off."

o - o - o - o - o

Old Owl well was quiet as Kail led her friends through the encampment. The last time she had been here, it had been a place of hope, the men who lived and worked here, who defended it with their blood and sweat, held together by dreams of a better future. Now, the faces that looked up at Kail mounted on Wind were broken and harrowed. Faces were dirty, beards scraggly and unkempt, eyes hollow, the life dulled from them.

Looking around, she thought she recognised a few of the men. She was sure she'd seen a few of the Greycloaks from her last visit. Dotted amongst them were locals, wearing piecemeal armour, brandishing peasant weapons; a scythe here, a claw-hammer there, occasionally a shepherd's crook. The same people who had once fought ferociously against orcs now looked haunted and frightened. And she couldn't really blame them.

The encampment was in a nearly complete stage of evacuation. The buildings that had sprung up over the winter; houses and barracks, quartermasters and farriers, armourers and fletchers, had been abandoned, their windows boarded up. A few goats with bells around their necks were tied to a picket line, their bleats depressing as they tried to snatch at wisps of grass growing nearby. Only Greycloak tents were inhabited now, and even they would be taken down and carried away when the 'Cloaks left. The army that had once defended the Well against hordes of rampaging orcs, could do nothing to defend it against the King of Shadows. Old Owl Well was being abandoned again; all of their sacrifice, for nothing.

Craning her neck, she looked around for whoever was in charge, and finally set her sights on a Greycloak Sergeant who looked a little less nervous, a little less empty, than his fellows. She stopped before him and sprang to the ground, holding Wind's reins lightly in her gloved fingers.

"What's your name, Sergeant?" she asked.

"Partridge, Knight-Captain. Simeon Partridge."

She didn't bother to ask how he knew who she was. Maybe he'd heard the rumours that a short woman with a bad haircut, a plethora of weapons and a grey warhorse could be none other than the Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep. Or maybe the construct gave her away. Either way, she was generally recognised everywhere she went, these days, by friend and foe alike. It would be nice, she thought, to go somewhere where nobody knew who she was. Where nobody had ever even heard the name Kail Farlong, or her many titles - Slayer of Orcs, Scourge of Luskan, Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep, Hero of Neverwinter.

"How goes the evacuation, Sergeant?"

"Well enough, now that the weather's turned finer. Another two days should see us ready to pull out."

"Good. When you leave, you are to head to Crossroad Keep, and tell Officer Kana to reassign your men as she sees fit." Kana would quickly be able to pick out the men still capable of holding a weapon and keeping their nerve in an enemy charge. The rest she would send on their way.

"But... our orders are to return to Neverwinter, to aid with the evacuation of the city," he replied, aghast at disobeying orders.

"Lord Nasher has given me the authority to defend Neverwinter's lands as I see fit," she told him imperiously. "My will is Lord Nasher's will, and if you have a problem with my orders, you may bring the issue up with Sir Nevalle, once you reach Crossroad Keep. Is that clear?"

"Y-yes ma'am!" he said with a salute. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed nervously.

"I'm glad to hear it. Now, my companions and I will be camping here for the night before making our way north to forge an alliance with the dwarves. Tell your men that there is no need to stand on formality... just pretend that I'm not here."

"Yes, Knight-Captain. Is there... anything else?" By the tone of his voice, she suspected that he hoped there was nothing else.

"No, nothing else. Good work, Sergeant. You've done an excellent job of overseeing the evacuation here. Keep it up."

She didn't wait to hear his response, but instead led her friends onward through the camp, to an area of free ground that wasn't too hard or too steep. As the sun began to sink below the horizon, turning the sky a brilliant reddish-gold, they began to assemble their own campsite. Kail took the horses to a grassy area, untacked them and hobbled them so that they couldn't run away. Neeshka, meanwhile, was assembling the tent that they shared, as Khelgar and Grobnar put up their own shared tent (Sand and Bishop had outright refused to share with the gnome, and since Khelgar was in a good mood about getting back to his clan - and the 'fine dwarven ale' that came with it - he had volunteered for Grobnar duty).

Sand had dragged himself away from his books long enough to assemble the tent he and Bishop were sharing, which was quite a feat. So far, he'd spent almost the entire trip with his nose buried in a book, ignoring the way he swayed from side to side in his saddle. He was lucky that his mount was quite lazy, and seemed content to follow the other horses with little input from its rider. Of Bishop there was no sign, but not far away, in a small forested area, Kail heard the sound of snapping wood, and he reappeared fifteen minutes later with his arms full of firewood and kindling. Karnwyr trotted beside him, carrying a dead hare in his powerful jaws - probably one that he had found cowering in its form, hoping that by freezing still, it would be safe.

By the time night had fallen, they were all seated around the fire, sharing rations that Kail had appropriated from the Greycloak supplies. Sand once again had his head in a book; where he was keeping all these heavy tomes she had no idea. Grobnar was trying to encourage the golem to eat some of the rations, a task made all the more difficult because it lacked a mouth. Bishop was whittling at a piece of wood with a knife, but he didn't seem to be paying much attention; the piece of wood simply got shorter and sharper, without taking on any discernible form. Neeshka and Khelgar were rolling a pair of die for fun. Neeshka invariably ended up with higher numbers than Khelgar, and Kail smiled when she recognised how Neeshka was doing it. Lucas had taught her how to roll die to give better odds of a favourable score, but she had never been as good at cheating on die as she had on cards. To this day, Bevil still didn't know how she had managed to beat him at cards so often, back in West Harbor.

From the Greycloak camp, not far away, came the sound of merrymaking. Voices called out to each other in humour, and Kail even heard the lilting notes of a flute being played. The mood of the Greycloaks seemed much better than it had been when she'd first arrived. It was a remarkable transformation.

"I wonder what's gotten into them," she mused aloud.

"It's hardly surprising," said Sand, his head still firmly in his book. "Their commander, Callum, was recalled to Neverwinter and subsequently managed to get himself killed. The men here have been alone, leaderless, afraid, ever since, and being told to return to Neverwinter to help abandon the city can't have done much for morale. But now you're here, giving them orders and a new purpose. Your very presence makes them feel safer."

"Who'd dare attack the valiant Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep, after all?" said Bishop sarcastically.

"I think I'm going to turn in to bed for the night," said Grobnar, stifling a huge yawn behind his small hand. "Early to bed, early to rise, as they say."

"Just make sure ye don't go talkin' in yer sleep again tonight, gnome," Khelgar grunted. He hadn't had a drink of ale since they'd left Crossroad Keep, and it wasn't doing much for his mood. "How's a dwarf to sleep when ye're prattling on about beetles an' explosive devices and whatnot?"

"I wonder if Aldanon talks in his sleep..." said Grobnar thoughtfully. He patted Mister Pointy on its shoulder then ducked into the nearest tent.

One by one, her friends turned in for the night. Neeshka went next, trading the heat of the fire for the warmth of her blankets. Khelgar followed not long after, but only after he was certain he could hear Grobnar snoring softly. Bishop muttered something about wanting to stretch his legs and wandered off into the woods with Karnwyr close by his side. Sand stayed, reading by firelight, until the flames had almost died out. When reading became too difficult he bade her good night and pleasant dreams, and retreated to the empty tent.

Not yet feeling tired enough to sleep, Kail threw a few sticks onto the fire, then prodded it with another, longer stick, until the flames began to slowly grow. Then, she lay back on the ground, looking up at the stars above her. How long had it been since she had last watched the stars, simply for the sake of watching them? Before Crossroad Keep, for sure. Before she had fought Lorne, and secured her innocence. Since then, she'd had no time for idle star-gazing.

Was the King of Shadows, out there right now, looking up at the same stars? Was it even capable of thinking, of feeling, or was it simply a mindless construct? Ammon seemed to believe that it had intelligence, that it was capable of thinking like a person, albeit a very twisted one. It was no mindless enemy she was up against, now. A mindless enemy would have been much easier to thwart.

Either way, the conflict would not last much longer. She knew it instinctively. Both sides had moved their pieces around the board, putting them all in place, readying their forces. Soon, they would both move, trying to take the board. Soon, one way or the other, she would be free of the King of Shadows forever. She would be free of Neverwinter, of Crossroad Keep, and of all the responsibilities she didn't want. Soon she would be free.

o - o - o - o - o

As they travelled north, the gradient of the ground began to steadily increase. Kail found herself leaning forward in her saddle more and more often, allowing Wind to make his way forwards and upwards without unbalancing him. The weather stayed fine, with barely a cloud in the sky, though temperatures often plummeted at night, making fire a necessity when they camped.

When they reached the path where they had last encountered Khelgar's kin - Khulmar, and the rest of his scouting party - Kail began to feel more relaxed. Soon they would be at the Ironfist's home, and she was looking forward to sleeping in a bed again, eating hot food and being able to bathe in warm water.

"What are we going to do with the horses?" she asked aloud suddenly. It was something she, stupidly, hadn't thought of before. Dwarves didn't use horses. They didn't have stables. And they probably wouldn't want the animals bringing into their new clanhold.

"Hobble them outside," Bishop shrugged.

"But then they won't be able to run away if they're attacked by orcs or mountain lions or..."

"Don't worry yerself, lass," said Khelgar. "The Ironfists will have made this whole area safe. And there'll be scout groups and guards livin' on the surface. They can watch yer horses."

"I suppose that would be okay," she said reluctantly.

"Hey, I can see the sea from up here!" called Grobnar. He was sat atop the golem's shoulders again, at the front of the group. One hand was shielding his eyes from the bright sun, and his other was pointing at the horizon. Kail turned in her saddle and look around, and sure enough, just on the horizon, was a long sliver of shining blue. Beyond the sea lay lands whose inhabitants had never even heard of Illefarn, Neverwinter, or the King of Shadows.

_Lucky bastards,_ Kail thought to herself.

By mid afternoon, the group was passing through a familiar narrow canyon. This had been the site of a bugbear ambush -- a badly failed one, at that. Soon, very soon, they would be at Clan Ironfist's home, and she had a good feeling about it. She had, after all, helped to drive out the bugbears and secure the Clanhold. Not to mention, she had aided Khelgar in finding the Gauntlets of Ironfists. Surely that meant the clan were indebted to her? Surely they wouldn't hesitate to join in glorious battle against an ancient enemy?

Their approach had not gone unnoticed. As they neared the entrance to the Clanhold, a squat, greying dwarf came out to meet them. She vaguely recognised him as one of the dwarves of Khulmar's scouting party, though she couldn't recall his name. As he drew near, she dismounted, and gave Wind's reins to Neeshka.

"Khelgar!" said the dwarf, treating their group to a broad, gap-toothed smile. "I thought I recognised the glint of sunlight bouncing off your head!"

"It's good to see ye, Khayar," said Khelgar, grasping the greying dwarf's arm in greeting. "Remember my friends, don't ye?" he asked, gesturing at the rest of the group.

"That I do," he replied, eyeing Grobnar warily before turning his eyes to Kail. "Come to see how much our hard work here has paid off, I s'pose?"

"Amongst other things," she smiled.

"Other things, eh?"

"War's coming, Khayar," said Khelgar. "We've come to rally the clan."

"Well... well then... hmm. Can't say I'd mind a fight, but that's upto Keros of course."

"Keros is _here_?"

"That he is. S'pose you'll be wanting to see him straight away?"

"Aye, Khayar. That'd be... nice," said Khelgar, sounding as if it was anything but.

Khayar gestured for them all to follow him, and they started out again. Kail remained on foot, and walked close beside Khelgar, lowering her voice to speak."

"Who's Keros?" she asked.

"The leader of the Ironfists. We go way back, Keros and I."

"He still hates yer guts, Khelgar," Khayar snorted.

"Bah, Keros holds too much of a grudge if ye ask me."

"What does he have to hold a grudge against?" Kail asked.

"Well, ye remember how Khulmar was when we met up with him, accusing me of abandoning me clan and all that fer the sake o' glory?"

"Yes, I do dimly recall that meeting."

"Well, that's nothing compared t' what Keros had t' say about it."

"I should have brought gifts," she sighed.

"Ach lass, ye'd only have insulted Keros and the Ironfists by bringing bribes."

"Gifts, Khelgar, not bribes."

"I thought Nasher had been teaching ye about politics?" he said skeptically.

They continued in silence to the Ironfist Clanhold. As Khelgar had suggested, there _were_ dwarves up on the surface, guarding the entrance, and though they grumbled a little when Kail asked them if they could keep an eye on the horses, they relented when Khayar made it an order. Kail, Bishop and Sand untacked their horses and hobbled them, then carried the saddles, bridles and saddlebags inside the massive double-doors of the Ironfist's home.

She had to admit; the changes were impressive. The last time she had seen the Clanhold, it had been nothing more than a dank, stinking, bugbear-infested network of dilapidated rooms and collapsed tunnels. The Ironfists seemed to have worked even harder here than the Greycloaks had at Old Owl Well. Tunnels had been reopened and widened. Walls of rooms showed the tell-tale signed of being reworked with tools. The entire place was lit by torchlight and fire, and the comforting smell of woodsmoke and cooking food hung in the air. The floors had been meticulously scrubbed of blood, dirt and offal, and now long carpets were lain over the bare grey stone, which softened their footfalls as they walked down the tunnels.

"Nice," said Neeshka appreciatively. "Much nicer than when we were here last time."

"Thanks," said Khayar, grinning. "It's not been easy going, and we're not finished by far, but we're getting there, slowly."

"I knew this place would be grand," said Khelgar, his eyes moist and glistening.

Grobnar was the only other member of the group who had visited here the first time around, and to Mister Pointy he kept up a running commentary describing all the changes wrought, how that one corner over there used to have piles of dwarf bones in it, left over from bugbear meal times, how that door had once been a gaping hole where a half-ogre had come crashing through to attack them, oh and my, the blood stains had come out of the ceiling quite nicely, hadn't they? Each new comment forced Khayar's bushy grey eyebrows into a deeper and deeper 'V' shape, as if he didn't like being reminded of how ruinous the place had been.

Through long, twisting tunnels Khayar led them, and they were barely recognisable to Kail. When at last they came to a wide door that she was sure had once lain behind an impassible pile of caved-in wall, he pushed the door open and they entered a large room. Inside were dozens of stone-hewn tables, with wooden chairs looking oddly out of place around them. This appeared to be some sort of communal area, for a great many dwarves were seated at the tables, and as soon as she entered with her friends, the noise level dropped. She heard muted whispers of 'Khelgar', 'overlanders' and 'disgrace', and was grateful that as she was at the front of group, she was possibly the only person, other than Bishop who possessed annoyingly good hearing, who heard them. Khelgar was too busy gaping in awe at the room to notice the whispers and disapproving stares of the dwarves around him.

From the floor of the room rose several great pillars, rising to the ceiling, the weight of which they supported and prevented from caving in. Upon the pillars depictions of dwarves standing upon fallen enemies were sculpted into the stone face. One group of dwarves stood upon a pile of troll bodies, another upon the back of an ogre, two particularly fierce looking dwarves upon a pile of dead trolls and the last depicted a lone dwarf with his foot planted firmly upon the headless corpse of a tanari'ri, which Kail thought highly improbable.

"Khelgar," said Khayar, drawing their attention, "it might be best if you went to see Keros alone. All of these overlanders, and that crazy gnome with his construct... they'd only put his back up. You know he's not overly fond of anybody taller than him."

"You mean to say he doesn't like outsiders," said Sand.

"Well, he's not the tallest of dwarves, so he tends to get suspicious even of taller Ironfists."

"I understand, Khayar, but Kail's coming with me," said Khelgar firmly.

"Very well. The rest of your friends can remain here, at a table. I'll get someone to come along with refreshments. It's the least you all deserve after travelling so far to see us," Khayar replied. Then he pointed to a door on the far side of the room. "Keros is through there, follow the corridor, first door on your left."

"Ready, lass?" Khelgar asked as she dumped her pack, saddlebags and take at a table everybody else had claimed.

"I should have brought gifts," she reiterated.

"Bah, nonsense, we'll be fine! Come on, let's get this over with."

With a last look at her remaining companions, who were being glanced at by nearby dwarves with dark expressions, she took a deep breath and hurried after Khelgar. Whatever was going to happen, would happen. It wasn't as if she even needed the help of the Ironfists, right? She already had the lizardfolk firmly under her thumb. She already had an army of Greycloaks to wield. A battalion of battle-hardened veteran dwarfs would simply have been the icing on the cake. Granted, her attempt to forge alliances hadn't gone brilliantly so far; the Wendersnaven had turned out to be a dead end, and the less said about the Circle of the Mere the better. But all leaders, whether poor or great, experienced set-backs, didn't they?

They quickly reached the door Khayar had described, and since it was standing open, they stepped through it, Khelgar first with Kail right behind him. This was, she realised, what passed for a throne room amongst dwarves. It was a long, somewhat low-ceilinged room, and she couldn't help but notice that if she had been as tall as Bishop or Neeshka, she would have to walk with a stoop, to prevent from banging her head on the stone above. Was it built that way on purpose, to force foreign petitioners to bow? For once in her life, she was grateful for her short stature.

Guards were posted beside the door, but these she ignored. Instead, she turned her attention to the long, greying dwarf standing beside a table, looking over pieces of parchment that lay upon it. At their footsteps he turned, and narrowed his eyes. Khayar was right; he was shorter than most other dwarves she'd seen.

"Khelgar! Who in the name of Clangeddin let _you_ into our Clanhold!" he said angrily. Kail felt her heart drop.

"I'm as much Ironfist as you, Keros, I have a right to be here too!" said Khelgar, no less angrily.

"You gave up the right to call yourself an Ironfist when you abandoned us to seek personal glory! No true dwarf would abandon his clan the way you did!"

"I know what I did was foolish," said Khelgar gruffly, and Kail stared at him in surprise. It was _most_ unlike Khelgar to be apologetic. Perhaps the Trials of Tyr, posed to him previously by Hlam, truly _had_ changed him. "But if I could go back and change what I did, I wouldn't. I've learned a lot whilst travelling. I've learnt the meaning of honour and justice and friendship. I'm an older and wiser Khelgar than the one ye knew, and I hope one day ye'll forgive me and let me back fer good. But right now, the Ironfists are in danger, so I've come to warn ye."

"Warn us about what?" Keros asked, apparently unconvinced of Khelgar's change of heart. Khelgar, however, gestured for Kail to continue.

"Keros," she said, stepping forward, unsure of how to address him. Was he King? Was he Lord? Was he Sir? Khelgar had never said, and she regretted not asking him what now seemed like a vital piece of diplomatic information. No doubt Nasher or Nevalle would know _exactly_ how to address Keros. "My name is Kail Farlong--"

"Aye, I've heard your name mentioned before. You're the one who helped free this place from the bugbears and their ogre overlords. I also hear you've been making quite a name for yourself on the surface. We don't get many visitors this way, but a few dwarves have travelled from Neverwinter, to see the glory of the Ironfist Clanhold for themselves, and yours is the name always spoken by them."

"Maybe you've heard of another name, too; 'King of Shadows'."

"Maybe I have. What of it?"

"The King of Shadows represents a threat not just to Neverwinter, but to the entire Sword Coast. Everybody is in danger, no matter their race or religion. Already, many villages have been swallowed by the shadow, their inhabitants killed and raised as undead. Already, a druid Circle has been lost, and many lizardfolk tribes slaughtered for daring to fight back. The people of the Sword Coast need to unite, to fight against the King of Shadows before he destroys us all. We need the strength and experience of the dwarves to aid us in the war. Will you ally clan Ironfist with us?"

"Your words and pretty, and well rehearsed," said Keros, and she felt a momentary flash of anger that he thought of her impromptu speech as a diplomatic ploy. But then, hadn't she thought the same of Khravler and Sydney Natale? "Now, let me tell _you_ something, Kail Farlong. When we first liberated this Clanhold from the bugbears--"

"You mean, when you moved in after Khelgar and I liberated it _for_ you," she interjected. He ignored her.

"We discovered archives, buried deep within the Clanhold. Archives that told the history of our people. You know, it wasn't always like this. Once, this place had been an impregnable fortress. But that all changed when we were besieged by the Fire Giants of Mount Galardrym. We sent countless messengers to Neverwinter, asking for aid, for assistance in repelling the Giants. But none came, and King Loudram, _my_ ancestor, was forced to lead his troops to battle alone. There he died, and the Clanhold fell. Our people scattered, and the memory of what had transpired was lost, until we found this place again. Neverwinter abandoned Loudram, abandoned the Ironfists in our most desperate hour of need. And now it is time to repay that debt. No Ironfist will help you, because we now know the truth. You are on your own."

"But--" said Khelgar.

"No. You can either leave me be, or my guards can escort you out."

"Come on, Khelgar," said Kail quietly, tugging on his arm before the guards could move. He reluctantly let himself be ushered outside, but didn't wait until they were out of hearing range of the door before venting his anger.

"Keros is mad! His mind must have gone senile with age!" he huffed angrily. "He'll bring ruin down on the clan if he thinks sitting underground is going t' keep him safe!"

"I think it's less about safety, and more about revenge," she said sadly. "You heard him. He blames Neverwinter for Loudram's fall. Now he wants payback."

"But when the King of Shadows is done with the surface, he'll turn his attention to anything below or above it!"

"We know that, but Keros hasn't seen what we've seen. He hasn't come face to face with a Reaver. He doesn't know what they're capable of."

Back in the communal area, the mood was little better. Though the dwarves were now speaking normally amongst themselves, they still occasionally glanced at the outsiders, and most of them did not look pleased by their presence. Kail took the empty seat between Neeshka and Bishop, but Khelgar contented himself on pacing the floor beside them.

"That bad, was it?" said Sand, an untouched cup of ale on the table in front of him. Kail nodded, and quickly recounted what had happened with Keros.

"It's your own fault," said Bishop. "'Simple diplomatic mission', you said."

"So... what do we do now?" said Neeshka.

"The way I see it," Kail replied, "we have only two options. We can stay here, and try to convince Keros, or maybe some of the others, to join us. Or we can admit defeat and go back to Crossroad Keep."

"Hooray for staying!" said Grobnar, clapping his hands.

"What do the rest of you think?"

"I think we should go back," said Sand. "Clearly, Keros is blinded by anger. He'll never see reason, and every moment that we spend here is a moment lost. The King of Shadows won't wait for us to return before acting."

"I think Sand's right," said Neeshka quietly. "I just know that if the King of Shadows does something awful while you're here trying to beat sense into thick dwarven skulls, you'll blame yourself for it."

"What's that, Mister Pointy?" said Grobnar, leaning in towards the construct's mouthless head. "Oh, I say, good point! Mister Pointy thinks that Keros might just be testing you, to see how far you'd go to secure his help. He says maybe you should try again tomorrow, when Keros has had time to think it over."

"So, that's two for going back, and... two... for staying here," she said, her eyes flickering to Bishop.

"It's all the same to me, _Captain_," he said, trying for a sneering tone though his heart didn't seem in it.

"Fine. Khelgar?"

"Khelgar!"

Kail look up and saw a familiar dwarf jogging across the room to their table. It was Khulmar, the leader of the scout group she had helped last year, and Khelgar stopped pacing to greet him stiffly.

"I heard what happened with Keros, Khelgar," said Khulmar quietly. "I just want you to know that I'm ready to fight with you. Just give the word. And I think I can convince a couple of the others."

"That... that means a lot to me, Khulmar," said Khelgar, his voice thick with emotion.

"Hardly the army you were looking for," said Sand to Kail, "but it's a start." Khulmar gave him a sharp look, then turned to address Kail and Khelgar together.

"I've been thinking about your problem, and I believe I know a way to make the rest of them follow you to battle too," he said. "But it won't be easy."

"What is it, Khulmar?" asked Khelgar.

"Let Torim speak for you. The Hammer of Ironfist... it has been recovered."

"This sounds suspiciously like a euphemism," said Neeshka under her breath.

"The Hammer... how?"

"It was here all along, Khelgar. When you and your friends left, we began unearthing the Clanhold, and we came across it in a room that had been blocked off by a cave-in. It was in the place of the archives, the ones that spoke of the last days of the Ironfist clan. But there is a problem."

"The Belt..." said Khelgar.

"Gone. Stolen by the Fire Giants of Mount Galardrym. They took it from Loudram's corpse and fled with it."

"Excuse me," said Kail, "but what are you both talking about?" Her knowledge of dwarven lore was quite limited. Though Lucas had taught her much lore of the Sword Coast, and Valear of the lore of the wild elves, she'd only had Khelgar to tell her of dwarven lore, and most of that involved drinking, singing and hitting stuff with your fists.

"Come here," said Khulmar, gesturing her to follow him to one of the stone pillars; the one with the lone dwarf and the vanquished tanar'ri. Khelgar followed close behind. "This is Torim. Do you recognise the gloves he's wearing?"

"The Gauntlets of Ironfist," she said with a nod. They were the same gloves Khelgar was wearing at this very moment. The same gloves she had helped him recover from the Clanhold.

"That's right. That hammer he's wielding," he said, pointing to the hammer held high above the dwarf's head, around which lightning was crackling, "is the Hammer of Ironfist. It's the most powerful weapon ever created by our clan. But Torim Ironfist was as wise as he was talented and brave. He didn't want just anybody to be able to wield the hammer, so he created the Gauntlets of Ironfist and the Belt of Ironfist. Together, they increase the strength of the wearer to beyond that of a giant. Only one with such colossal strength can pick up the Hammer. It's said that whoever wields the Hammer is the rightful leader of the Ironfist clan."

"Was the Belt with the Hammer when you found it?"

"No," he said grimly. "It was taken, as I mentioned before, by the Fire Giants who sacked this place. As far as I know, it's still with them, in their mountain lair, at Galadrym. But if you can find it, if Khelgar can wear the Gauntlets and the Belt, and use them to lift the Hammer... the clan will have no choice but to follow him."

"But Khulmar, I don't want to be the leader of the clan!" said Khelgar, aghast at the thought.

"I didn't want to be the Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep, Khelgar," she said gently. "But sometimes we have to make sacrifices to do what's right. Sometimes, we have to do things that we'd rather not."

"Well... I see what ye mean... but why are ye helping us, Khulmar? I thought ye were Keros's man through and through?"

"Keros is old, and sometimes I think he acts for his own good, and not for the good of the clan. When he found out that _you_ were the one who'd found the Gauntlets, and that we'd let you keep them... he wasn't pleased. He blamed me, and the others in my scout group. He said if we'd pushed on and found them first, we could have brought them back and given them to him. He thinks that as Loudram's descendant, he's the only one with the right to wear the Gauntlet and the Belt, and wield the Hammer. I told him that if we'd pressed on, most of our group, maybe even all of us, would have died. He didn't seem to care."

"I... Khulmar, I'm honoured that ye think I'm worthy of the Hammer."

"Finding the Belt of Ironfist, recovering it from the giants, would go a long way to repairing the ill-will many feel towards Neverwinter," Khulmar explained. "Keros is planning to lead us into battle, to recover the Belt, once we're better established here, but if you can get it first, if you can steal it from right under his nose... well, let's just say that he really wouldn't like that."

"What do ye think, lass?" said Khelgar. "I know everybody wants to be getting back home, and I know I've no right to ask ye to do anything for me, not after all ye've already done..."

"Khelgar, this is important, to you, to the Ironfists, and to the war. I think we should do it."

"Thank ye, lass," he said, a wide smile on his face as he wiped the moisture from his eyes. "Thank ye."


	96. The Climb

_96. The Climb_

"I hate mountains," said Neeshka, shivering miserably under her blanket. Kail nodded, and shifted closer to the tiefling. Everybody else was sitting as close to the fire as they could get without having to sit near the precarious precipice only a few feet away. As far as camps went, this was probably the most miserable one they had ever made so far, and that included camps in the shadow-infested Mere, in the snow, and in the pouring rain.

The mountain upon which they were perched wasn't so much a mountain as an active volcano. Every so often the ground would rumble, and volcanic steam would rise from fissures, bringing with it the stench of rotten eggs. There were open vents dotted around the mountain, gently spewing forth bubbling lava. By rights, the place should have been warm, but a bitterly cold wind was blowing in from the east, picking up tiny rock fragments that abraded their skin and irritated them when it found its way into their clothes. In addition, the ground was solid rock, which made pitching tents impossible, the wind kept threatening to blow out their measly fire, and they'd had to leave Mister Pointy at the foot of the mountain; the path upwards had often eroded away, making crossing it a great feat of agility which the golem simply didn't possess.

Kail was lucky, in a way; excepting Khelgar, who struggled most of all, the rest of her companions were sure-footed and agile. Neeshka's extraordinary reflexes allowed her to progress safely up the mountain; Bishop's confident, unhurried pace somehow ensured that he never put a foot wrong; Sand possessed the natural agility common to all elves, and Grobnar was so small and light that he could walk over loose slag without it shifting beneath his weight. Together, they were able to help Khelgar, who was heavier than any of them even without his plate armour, and not the most agile of people, ascend the treacherous, narrow mountain paths.

"Hehehe, look at the fireflies," said Grobnar, pointing giddily at particles of ash burning brightly as they arose with the heat of the fire. Nobody said anything. Grobnar, being the smallest, was the first to be affected by the noxious sulphur dioxide fumes, which had made him even stranger in the head. Sand said that the levels of volcanic gas were probably too low to affect the rest of them immediately, so they had risked setting up a camp on a wide ledge, a quarter of the way up Mount Galardrym. Now, huddled in their blankets, trying to eat without getting rock dust blown in their mouths, they were beginning to regret that decision.

"I've been saying all along that you never get anything for free," said Bishop. He was sitting with his back to the wind, his normally brown hair covered in grey dust. The skin on his face was grey where dust particles had stuck, and pink where sharper fragments had blown painfully against his skin. But everybody else was the same; none of them had escaped abrasion, no matter how much they'd tried to shield their faces. "You should have known that the dwarves wouldn't have agreed to an alliance. There's nothing in it for them."

"Nobody likes a know-it-all, Bishop," she sighed.

"Better to know too much than too little."

"Today is sausage and egg day, in Sal's place," said Sand glumly. "Right now, I could be feasting on leek sausages, herb sausages, tiny little sausages, or black sausages which tastes suspiciously like licorice. None of which, I might add, involves eating dust in any way, shape or form."

"When we get back to Crossroad Keep, I'll buy ye a plate full of sausages," Khelgar promised Sand. For some reason, Grobnar snickered. "And stop insulting me kin," he added to Bishop. "Can't really blame 'em fer being a bit suspicious. Not with the bad feeling between them and Neverwinter. I might've made the same choice, in Keros' place."

"Regardless," she said before an argument could start. "I suggest we all try to get a few hours of rest. Sleep, or don't sleep, it's up to you, but we have the rest of the mountain to climb, and by the time we're done, I suspect we're all going to want some of that lauded dwarven hospitality."

"Aye lass. I promise ye, as soon as we get the Belt and lift the Hammer of Ironfist from its resting place, they'll roll out the red carpets."

She nodded, and pulled her blanket around her body, then leant back against the wall of the ledge, huddling next to Neeshka. For a long time she sat with her eyes closed, but instead of finding sleep, her mind was haunted by images of the King of Shadows growing closer and closer, and she knew that the images weren't mere dreams.

o - o - o - o - o

"Are you beginning to regret coming along?" Kail asked Sand as they sidestepped carefully around a narrow ledge, their bodies pressed into the wall, fingers plucking painfully at small outcrops of bare rock.

"That would be something of an understatement," he replied through gritted teeth. "You know, I could simply have cast Dominate continuously on that dreadful little dwarf, and forced him to comply with your wishes.

"That sounds like something Garius would do."

"Yes, and you don't see _him_ crawling along bare wind-swept ledges in the middle of nowhere, do you? No, he's probably safe in his lair, surrounded by his many minions."

"He's also dead."

"Death is nothing but a momentary inconvenience to a powerful enough wizard," said Sand, waving dismissively with one hand and wobbling dangerously on the ledge.

"And you couldn't have suggested that Dominate idea earlier?" said Bishop, from in front of Sand.

"It wouldn't have mattered," Kail told them both loudly over the howling wind. "If Khelgar's right, which I suspect he is, then this Hammer of Ironfist is a really powerful weapon. The only powerful weapon I've got so far is the Sword of Gith, so the more I can find, the merrier. In fact, I think I should have been doing this all along... seeking out powerful weapons, as well as allies."

"You've got the Daystar," Sand pointed out. "It might not do much against the King of Shadows, but it will be a great boon against his undead."

"Yeah... I think I'll give it to Elanee. She's the only other person, apart from me, who really uses long swords."

"And the weapon-makers at Crossroad Keep have been creating ammunition that will harm the undead for some time now. I've watched them work, and they seem to know what they're doing."

"I guess..."

"Don't worry about weapons. You have the only one needed to destroy the King of Shadows, and between that and the Rituals of Purification... it should be enough."

"_Should_ be?"

"Nothing is certain," he said with a weak smile.

o - o - o - o - o

Up and up they climbed, until Kail was beginning to feel as if she'd fallen into some sort of hellish nightmare. The air became dry and almost unbearably hot, especially when they drew close to a volcanic vent; here the temperatures were hot enough to melt the softer minerals of rock, and sometimes bubbling lava pools threatened to flow over onto their path. Her legs ached from the constant exertion of pushing herself uphill. Her lips were dry and chapped, for there was no water up the mountain, and they drank sparingly to conserve their supply. Her skin was raw from being blasted by wind-carried dust, and she now realised the folly of travelling without at least one healer.

They spent the morning and half of the afternoon climbing, without so much as a glimpse of a Fire Giant. Kail called for a break, and they found a natural canyon made of tall boulders to use as shelter. Once behind them, the wind abated immediately, and she fixed the location of the place in her mind, hoping to use it as a camp site if no better site presented itself.

"What if they've gone?" said Neeshka glumly. "We could spend forever tracking around these mountains and never find them."

"They've not gone," said Khelgar, a gleam of determination in his eye. "They're still here."

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

"Great," Bishop muttered. "The 'I just do' argument. Foolproof."

"No need to be so glum, chums!" said Grobar, a wide, sulphur-dioxide-induced smile splitting his wind-chapped face.

"That's the problem with ye, laddie," said Khelgar, ignoring Grobnar entirely. "No faith in anything. Ye've got to have faith in something."

"I have faith in myself," said Bishop.

"What are you putting your faith in this time, stumpy?" asked Neeshka. "I mean, there's no ale around at the moment."

"Fate, lass, it's fate. I mean, of all the places I could've ended up, of all the people I could have ended up with, I got Kail, who's already helped me on the path to becoming a better fighter--"

"A path which you promptly abandoned when you realised you'd have to abstain from drinking anything but water."

"And has already helped me free the Clanhold from the tyranny of the bugbears--"

"Well technically, she wasn't the only one who helped. If it hadn't been for Grobnar, we never would have got through that broken door."

"And has helped me find the Gauntlets of Ironfist. This was meant to be, I tell ye. We'll not only find the Fire Giants atop this mountain--"

"It's a volcano, actually," said Sand.

"But we'll also defeat them and get back the Belt, claim the Hammer and lead the Ironfists to victory over the King of Shadows!"

"I thought you said the volcanic fumes wouldn't affect the rest of us," said Bishop to Sand.

"I may have been wrong."

"Bah, ye all lack faith."

"I believe you, Khelgar," said Kail, speaking for the first time. "I may not have faith in fate, but I have hope. I _have_ to have hope, because without it, I might as well just give up and let the King of Shadows win."

"HAHAHAHAHA!"

Kail froze, and noticed everybody else had done the same. The loud laughter, which sounded cruel rather than jolly, was echoing around them, reverberating off the rocks of their hiding place. Neeshka's face was white, and Sand had a look of concentration on his face as he tried to discern the source of the sound. Slowly, he got to his knees and peered through a gap between the tall stones, then beckoned for Kail to join him. She did, and understood where the laugh had come from.

Some distance below them was a camp. Huge tents had been erected and bonfires burned brightly amongst them. To one side of the camp was a wooden structure, in which stood several small figures, too far away to be clearly discerned. And striding around the camp, their pale grey bodied and red hair blending well with their surroundings, were several massive Fire Giants. Kail felt her heart beating faster, and sank back down behind the boulders, allowing Grobnar to take her place.

"My, those chaps are rather big, aren't they?" he said brightly.

"That's why they're called giants, Grobnar, instead of say... dwarves," said Sand.

"It won't be easy bringing even one of those down," said Bishop.

"Sand, what do you know about Fire Giants?" she asked.

"They're large and relatively stupid--"

"Relatively?"

"Well, in comparison to, say, my own vast intellect, they're extremely stupid. Compared to other giants, they tend to be on the brighter end of the scale. Their greatest asset is their size, and their strength. They possess little or no magical ability whatsoever, but a little magical resistance, as well as an immunity to fire which will render your own unique ability far less effective than it would normally be. When fighting them, you need to use their size to your advantage. You will be faster than they are, but you must watch out for attacks - they may be slow, but one hit could break every bone in your body."

"I count five," said Bishop. "That I can see of."

"Five? I only saw four," she replied, peering around the boulders again. "Where's the fifth?"

"You can't see it from there, he's blocked by an outcropping of rock. Look from here, and you'll be able to see."

She shuffled closer, conscious that this was the first time she had been close to him since he'd threatened her several days ago on the night before they'd left the Keep. He relinquished his spot so that she could see, but hovered close, and she felt his warm breath stirring her hair.

"Where?" she asked, trying to relax her body, which was insistently trying to advise her to move away.

"Down there. There's an outcrop of rock sheltering the furthest fire. The giant's behind it. You can just about see the top of his head. Wait for a moment, and he'll move."

So she waited, her eyes focused on the area he'd indicated, and she ignored her mind, one part of which was calmly pointing out that she had nothing to worry about, she wasn't alone up here, Bishop wouldn't do anything in front of the others, while another part of her mind recommended elbowing him in the ribs or standing on his toes, just to show him that he was a little too close for comfort, and another part of her simply laughed hysterically at the first two, though what exactly it found funny she couldn't even guess. The Sword of Gith, which snarled inside her heart and her mind whenever Zhjaeve or Ammon were present, was now silent. It had nothing to fear from Bishop; it had already heard the words it needed to hear from him - _I won't take your sword._

There was movement from below, and sure enough, she saw the top of a head, wild red hair blowing in the wind. Perhaps this giant was on guard duty, or perhaps he was ill, or maybe he was their chieftain. Why he was separated she didn't know, but it meant they had a brief window of time in which they would have to fight only four - only four!! - instead of five.

"Do you think there's any more down there?" she asked quietly, knowing that with the wind howling the way it was, nobody else would hear her words.

"Maybe. Hard to see what's around that bend. There could be another ten waiting... or perhaps five's all there are. Should I go and take a look?"

"No." The word was out of her mouth before her brain was even engaged. As good as Bishop was at moving quietly and unseen, she knew this was not his usual terrain. There were no trees here, to hide amongst, no caves to duck into, no long grass to lie in. There was nothing but open, exposed rock, and if he was caught, he'd probably be killed. She'd already lost enough people, enough friends, as she wasn't about to lose any more. Not even Bishop. She nodded down at the encampment below, indicating the wooden pen with small figures inside. "If we free those people, do you think they'd help us?"

"Probably not. They look hungry, dirty and unarmed. If it was me, I wouldn't help. I'd use the chance to get the hell out of there."

"Not everybody is like you. Not everybody is concerned with saving their own skin."

"Maybe not, but I didn't hear you asking for anybody else's opinion."

Before she could form a reply, Grobnar gave a squeak of surprise which drew all heads towards him. He was, she realised, poking one of the boulders and giggling maniacally.

"I wonder if those poor Fire Giants know they've built their camp directly beneath a large amount of highly unstable scree?" he said. "It would be most disastrous for them if some the earth supporting these boulders came loose. Do you think we ought to go down and warn them?"

A plan blossomed suddenly in her mind, and by the looks on her friends' faces, it was one of those brilliant plans that hit everybody, except Grobnar, simultaneously.

"I'll wait down there in the canyon..." said Khelgar.

"....excellent sniping position up here..." Neeshka mused.

"...time it just right with careful application of pressure..." added Sand.

"...better hurry before they move..." said Bishop.

"Alright, alright!" she said, holding up her hand to halt the onslaught of suggestions. "Khelgar and I will wait in the canyon, out of sight of the Fire Giants. Sand, when we're in place, you set the boulders rolling down the hill, then hit them with as much magic as you can. If that fifth giant comes along, try to slow him down. Neeshka, Bishop, stay here and do what you can with your bows. If you could blind a couple of them, or stop them from walking, that would be great. And... er... keep Grobnar up here, I don't think he's in a fit state to be wandering around a battlefield."

"Of course I'm in a sit fate!" said Grobnar indignantly, tripping over his own cloak. "I mean, fit hate... no no, hit sate?"

"And keep him quiet!" she added.

Together, she and Khelgar crept down the narrow path - Kail managing to creep considerably quieter than Khelgar could - until they reached a point where a spur tapered away towards the valley with the giant camp. There, they crouched down, and Kail drew her Sword, waving it above her head as the blade sprang to life with its ethereal silvery light. That was the signal; the boulders began to slide downhill, quietly at first, and then louder and louder as they gathered momentum. Before long it wasn't just boulders that were rolling, but loose rocks and dust lying in their path.

It happened so quickly that there wasn't much time to react. Kail left her hiding place with Khelgar a heartbeat behind her. In the valley, she saw that two of the giants had been killed by the avalanche of rock that had fallen on them. Another one was injured, blood streaming from a long gash in his skull. From above, arrows and spells rained down, encouraged by the jaunty rhythm of a battle-march played upon a flute. The remaining giant, however, had picked up a huge hammer and was now charging in anger. Kail moved to her right as he approached, whilst Khelgar went left, and they circled around behind him.

Khelgar attacked first, aiming his own axe at the knees of the giant - no doubt the dwarfish way of bringing their opponents down to size. Kail, about to strike, was forced to change her plan when she saw the injured giant, now wiping the blood from its eyes, lumbering towards them, flailing its weapon wildly. A falling rock caught it on its head, near its open wound, and it roared in pain. Glancing up, Kail saw the tiny form of Grobnar throwing rocks down the side of the mountain. When he saw her looking, he waved.

The sword hissed at her to move, and she threw herself forward, grasping the hilt of the weapon, afraid to lose contact with it for even a moment. She felt a rush of air above her, and knew that the giant's club had come swiping through the air where her body had just been. Instinctively she moved again, rolling over her side as the club came crashing down on the ground, shattering the stone, narrowly missing shattering her bones.

Swift, decisive action was required. When she saw a shadow flying over the ground, which indicated the giant was raising his club, she braced herself, and as she shadow swooped, she rolled backwards twice, crouching almost beneath the giant. She thrust the Sword up, and it slid effortlessly into the giant's abdomen, slicing flesh open. The monster's intestines spilled out onto the floor and it roared in pain. As it fell, she stepped aside, swung the Sword in an arc and sliced cleanly through its throat and neck, severing the vertebrae, killing it instantly, effectively ending a slow death by disembowelling. Panting, she turned back to the first giant, and saw Khelgar hacking ferociously at it with his weapon. He seemed to be everywhere, his hands a blur as the weapon sang expertly in his grip. If he was this good with any old axe, how much better would he be wielding the Hammer of Ironfist?

An arrow clattered loudly to the ground by her feet, startling her out of her assessment of Khelgar. She started to turn, to shout at what was probably Bishop for being foolish enough to shoot near her, when she saw the fifth giant approaching at full pelt, its massive warhammer held low in its hands. Taking a breath, she relaxed her grip on the Sword of Gith, letting the weapon move as it chose without conscious direction. As it moved, she knew automatically where to be, as if she and the weapon were moving as one, neither controlling the other, but each a perfect companion, linked through a bond deeper than blood.

It would have been stupid, and probably fatal, to try deflecting a blow from the giant's weapon, so she and the Sword focused on moving and slashing, like a wolf gnashing its jaws to weaken and bring down its prey. From above, several bolts of magical energy came hurtling down, striking the giant about its head and chest. It bellowed in anger and pain and stepped backwards. Suddenly, Khelgar was there, aiming for its kneecaps, hacking angrily at the giant, as if it had personally offended him. When the giant fell, she lashed out with the Sword and severed the monster's carotid artery. Hot blood spattered her face and her clothes, burning even as it cooled on her skin.

"For the record, you really don't want to get this stuff on you," she said, indicating the blood as Khelgar stood leaning against the giant's corpse while he recovered his breath.

A few minutes later, Sand, Bishop and Neeshka rejoined them, the latter dragging Grobnar by his shirt as he stared up at cloud formations with a bemused expression.

"Well, that went better than I'd expected," said Sand. "Though we can't expect such ideal conditions next time we encounter giants. It was through pure luck that they made their camp below loose rock."

"It wasn't luck, it was fate!" said Khelgar, wiping the giant blood from his axe; it was hissing on the metal of the blade, as if trying to melt or corrode it. There was no blood tarnishing the Sword of Gith, but she flicked it once anyway before sheathing it.

"Let's see who been careless," she said, walking to the wooden pen. Using Bishop's skinning knife, she sliced through the ropes holding the gates closed, and peered at several dirty human faces. "And you are?" she asked.

"W-we're from Luskan," stammered one scrawny looking man.

"What are you doing here?" asked Bishop harshly. The man shrank back a little.

"W-we were sent to assess the extent of the spread of the shadow-taint... a-and... to increase it."

"What?" Kail hissed, her eyes narrowing at the men as her hand reached for the hilt of the Sword.

"P-please don't hurt us, w-we were sent under instruction of the Brotherhood. Th-they think Neverwinter is a threat, but w-we've seen how fast the shadow's spreading, and how much damage we can do. W-we were on our way back to Luskan, to tell them that the shadow is a greater threat than Neverwinter, b-but we got captured by the g-g-giants."

"You will return to Luskan and tell them exactly that, and should I ever lay eyes upon you again, I will kill you for what you've done," she said.

"Y-yes, of course. Thank you for your mercy!" The man edged cautiously past her, his companions pressed close to him, as if they each feared to be singled out.

"You should have killed them," said Bishop, failing to surprise her in the slightest.

"Probably. But right now, they can't do me any harm. It'll be more than a few days before they can get back to Luskan, unless they're accomplished wizards capable of teleporting. If they were, they wouldn't have gotten captured in the first place. Right now, I have more important things to worry about, and I'd rather not murder anybody today."

"Hey, there's a path back here," called Neeshka. She was standing a hundred yards away, just past the furthest fire where the fifth giant had been sitting. "And it looks pretty well-used, too."

When Kail examined the path, she realised Neeshka was right. Many giant feet had trod this way over a long period of time, smoothing down the stone around it, making them smooth and polished. The path led through a narrow valley, but she could not see its end. Still, she was willing to bet a good deal of money that this was the path to the Fire Giants' lair.

"Well, looks like this is the way we go," she said.

"Ye know, I can almost _smell_ the Belt of Ironfist," said Khelgar with a gleam in his eye.

"Funny, smells like rotten eggs and dead giants, to me," said Neeshka.

"Dumb the Fire Giants may be, but deaf they are not," said Sand. "I would recommend a minimum of noise as we proceed. If necessary, I can gag Grobnar. In fact, I might just do that anyway."

"Alright, follow me then," said Khelgar, moving forward onto the path. One by one they followed; Kail directly behind him, with Grobnar behind her, so she could keep an eye on him and keep him quiet. Behind Grobnar came Sand, as if he didn't trust anybody else to do a proper job of keeping the gnome silent. Neeshka followed Sand, her fingers running over the feathery ends of her arrows, ready to pluck one and let it fly, and Bishop brought up the rear.

They walked for almost half an hour down the narrow - by giant standards, at least - path before they found any sign of more giants. The first thing they heard was voices booming loudly, echoing around the canyon. The giants were discussing which of their prisoners to eat first, and Kail found herself briefly glad to have let them go. Being eaten wasn't a suitable fate for anyone. Well, maybe Garius, and maybe greasy-haired Sydney Natale, but not for anyone else.

The voices grew steadily louder, and the path opened out suddenly into a large clearing, inside which was a huge wooden seat carved in the style of a throne. Upon the seat was the largest Fire Giant Kail had ever seen, and he had seven or eight of his friends with him. In addition to the giants was a pack of hell-hounds; large, fire-breathing canines capable of cracking bones with their powerful jaws. Luckily, the giants had their backs to the canyon, and the hounds were too busy fighting over a human skull to notice the newcomers. Kail gestured for everybody to follow her, and then crept behind an enormous palisade wall, crouching behind it to hide from the giants' view.

"I'm not liking these odds," she whispered as her friends gathered around.

"Indeed," agreed Sand. "Even had we brought everybody else along with us, I think we'd be struggling."

"Am I the only one who noticed the huge pile of treasure sitting behind that throne?" hissed Neeshka.

"We're not here fer treasure, we're here fer the Belt!" said Khelgar defiantly.

"Maybe I could steal the belt at night."

"There's no way I'm letting you steal from the giants," said Kail firmly. "If you get caught, you'd be dead. I know you're the greatest thief in Neverwinter, but you're also my best friend, and I'm not living with your death on my head."

"I say we forget all about this and go back to Crossroad Keep," said Bishop. "You don't even know if getting the Belt and lifting the Hammer will be enough to convince the dwarves to act."

"It'll convince 'em alright," said Khelgar. "Just leave that bit t' me."

"So. We seem to have whittled our options down to attempting to steal the Belt, charging to our bloody deaths in a pointless attack, or attempting to parley with the less-than-intelligent giants," said Sand. "Any volunteers?"

"I'll do it," said Kail. "It can't go any worse than my meeting with Keros. And if things start to go wrong, get yourselves out and-"

"Surely you jest. Zhjaeve will kill us if we return without you."

"And there's no way I'm leaving you behind," said Neeshka vehemently.

"Besides, yer not going out there alone, lass," added Khelgar. "I'm going with ye."

"Thanks," she smiled. "Sand, will you keep Grobnar safe and quiet?"

"Of course," he replied, taking a firm hold of the back of the gnome's shirt.

"Very well, Sir Khelgar, shall we go?"

Khelgar nodded, and stepped out of their hiding place. He didn't seem in the least bit afraid of going up against so many giants, even verbally. She wished she could share his confidence. This mission was turning out much more difficult than she had ever imagined, and she was still disappointed about the lack of promised dwarven hospitality.

The hell-hounds were the first to pick up the scent of the newcomers. They turned their heads and growled as the pair approached, but they did not yet charge forward and attack. One by one the giants turned to face them, mumbling loud curses of surprise that anybody could have come so close to their home undetected. The huge giant on the throne-like chair stood, picking up a huge stone hammer by the side of his chair.

"Visitors!" he boomed, with an evil laugh. "And just in time for dinner!"

"We haven't come for dinner," she called back, stopping as close as she dared to the leader.

"Then what have you come for, if not to entertain and sate us?"

"The Belt of Ironfist," she replied, deciding on honesty.

"You mean this belt that I'm wearing?" he asked, putting one hand on his hips to emphasize the belt clasped around his waist. "And what is that to you?"

"Ye took it," said Khelgar, "and now we want it back."

"Took it? Ha! Is that what you dwarves are telling yourselves these days?"

"What do ye mean?"

"We didn't take your Belt. Your cowardly king Loudram came to us and begged us to end the fighting. He traded this belt for his life. On the day of battle, he ran off, and left his men to die. His corpse was never found, because it was never here."

"That's a lie!" said Khelgar, grabbing his axe and stepping forward. Kail threw herself at him, her arms around his shoulders as she tried to pull him back. The giants seemed to find it amusing; they roared with laughter at the sight, which only made Khelgar even angrier.

"Hahaha!" laughed the giants' leader. "You've got spirit, dwarf, more than Loudram had, anyway. I'll tell you what; you do us a favour, and I'll give the Belt back to you."

"It's not yours to give! I'll take it from yer corpse!" Khelgar huffed, trying again to move forwards.

"Why would you just give up the Belt after all this time?" Kail asked as she held onto Khelgar for his own good.

"It was never important to me, human," said the giant. "But it was important to the mud-dwellers in their holes, so I kept it to keep it from them. Now, for a small service, I'm willing to part with it. Perhaps the knowledge of how it came to my hands will be more shameful than the pretence of Loudram dying honourably and having his corpse picked clean."

"How 'small' of a service are we talking here?" she asked cautiously.

"There's a red dragon living beneath a nearby peak." The giant gestured at the mountains around him. "We think it's going to come and steal our treasure. Kill the dragon, and you'll get your precious Belt back."

"We'll do it!" she said quickly, before Khelgar could set off again.

"Haha! Is that so? Well, better get to it then, hadn't you? And bring me the dragon's heart, as proof that you've really killed it."

"Right."

She chivvied Khelgar back towards the path, where the others quickly caught up to them. From the summit behind them came the sound of bellowing laughter. This entire thing was a trick, she knew. The giants didn't expect her and Khelgar to kill the dragon. They expected her to be killed in the attempt. And on the very slight chance that she did successful, it was very unlikely they would ever relinquish their greatest prize.

"Did you hear all of that?" she asked Sand and the others as they made their way back along the path.

"Every word, and I consider the whole thing suicidal," Sand replied.

"Why?" said Neeshka. "We killed two dragons at Nolaloth's valley, didn't we?"

"My dear tiefling, they were juveniles. They were probably more afraid of us than we were of them. I doubt we will be so lucky this time. If the red dragon here could be easily killed, the giants would have done it already."

"We're not going to kill the dragon," said Kail, her eyes fixed on the near horizon. They _definitely_ wouldn't like her plan.

"Then what are we going to do?"

"We're going to get the dragon to help us with our giant problem."

"Two days ago you couldn't convince a dwarf to aid us in a war against the greatest threat the Sword Coast has ever seen," Bishop scoffed. "And now you're going to convince a dragon to help us fight Fire Giants? You're nowhere near _diplomatic_ enough for that."

"I think it's a great idea," Neeshka grinned. "I hear dragons have hoards of treasure."

"And how, pray tell, are we going to convince the dragon to help us?" said Sand, ever the voice of reason and unwavering skepticism.

"Just leave that to me," said Kail.

"You do realise, of course, red dragons are not known for their selflessness and amicability?"

"Yeah, I know. But it's either this or give up and go home."

"Nobody would think less of you if you gave up and went home. I certainly wouldn't. In fact, I'd thank you."

"We can tell everybody at Crossroad Keep that the dwarves weren't willing to help. Or they'd all been polymorphed into giant sea turtles by the time we reached the Clanhold," Bishop added.

"Look, if you two want to go back, then please, feel free. If you want to stay, then I want your support. Don't you think I've gone through all of this already? I'm questioning myself enough, I don't need you to do it for me. I've got us this far, and I'll get us the rest of the way, but I can't do it alone. I need people to watch my back and trust me, so either man up and get behind me, or go back to Crossroad Keep."

"I say, bravo, excellent speech!" said Grobnar. It was a rather more contrite looking Sand and Bishop who followed her away from the Fire Giant's lair, and she suspected Sand, at least, had taken her message to heart.


	97. The Fall of Keros

_97. The Fall of Keros_

It was morning, and already the temperatures felt hotter than the warmest summer afternoon. The sun never truly shone on the mountains; the ash and gases spewed out by the volcano saturated the atmosphere, giving the sun a dully, reddish, hazy glow. Most of the heat came from the ground beneath the travellers' feet, and it was unrelenting.

Kail was crouched behind a large boulder, and in one hand she held Neeshka's mirrorscope, angling it carefully around the rock so she could see into the canyon behind her. She caught sight of a scaly back, and followed it with the scope, until she saw the head of the dragon. It seemed to be asleep, its huge head resting peacefully on enormous clawed feet. She saw its belly and flanks expanding and contracting as it took slow, deep breaths, and every so often its tail flickered, as if having a pleasant dream. With a pang of envy, she recalled her own dragon-dreams, visions of soaring free in the sky, of terrorising those who dared stand against her, of swooping in a free-fall to pounce on an unsuspecting cow. It wasn't fair. Why did she have to be stuck in a tiny, frail, wingless body?

She crept back to the others and handed the mirrorscope back to Neeshka.

"Looks like the dragon's sleeping."

"And how many dead knights have thought the same thing, I wonder?" said Sand

"We could send Grobnar to poke it a bit, just to make sure," said Khelgar.

"Now that you mention it," said Grobnar, whose head had cleared a bit since they'd moved away from the giants' lair, "I did have an idea for a dragon-mounted crossbow. It would be ideal as a siege weapon. Do you think I'd be able to get some measurements?"

"You're all to stay here while I speak to the dragon," she said shrugging off her pack.

"I'll go with ye, lass."

"No, Khelgar, not this time. I appreciate everything you've done so far, but I think I have to do this alone."

"And this has nothing to do with your dragon disciple studies?" Sand asked a little too knowingly.

"If the dragon eats you, can I have your room at the Keep?" said Bishop.

"Please be careful," Neeshka pleaded.

"Don't worry, I'll be back soon."

Before anybody could protest further, she left their hiding place and stepped out into the rocky ravine that led to the dragon's clearing. On the far side, she saw something sparking in the poor sunlight, and recognised it as gold. The dragon seemed to have amassed quite a stockpile of it, and there were even old chests and stone statues scattered amongst the pile. She felt quite certain that paying too much attention to the gold would be the last thing she ever did, so she turned her focus back to the dragon. As she approached, she took care to make as much noise as possible, and before long, an eye bigger than her head opened and regarded her lazily. It obviously considered her no threat, because it yawned before pushing itself to its feet, its talons scoring the rock beneath it as it moved.

"Who dares to trespass in my realm?" said the dragon, its booming voice echoing around the canyon.

"My name's Kail Farlong, and I've come to talk," she replied, a lot more confidently than she felt.

"Talk? A pretence, so you can get closer to my hoard. I know your kind. You're greedy, and make poor snacks."

_Why does everything in these mountains want to eat me?_ she wondered. "I've no interest in your hoard," she said. "But the Fire Giants in the next valley do."

"And what would you know about the giants, little human?"

"I overheard them talking. They were planning to come here and steal your gold from you."

"What were you doing at the giants' camp in the first place?" asked the dragon suspiciously.

"I was looking for a belt that they took from the dwarves centuries ago. I need it back, and I was looking for a way to take it."

"Or perhaps you're the giants' ally." The dragon reached out and scooped her up in its claws. She felt her body squeezed by the pressure of the dragon's grip, and sent a silent command to her friends to do nothing. Either they heard her silent plea, or the gods were favouring her, because nobody stepped up to attack. The dragon, meanwhile, lifted her high into the air, bringing her towards its massive head. It held her to its nose and inhaled deeply. Then it turned its head and sneezed.

"Please, I'm not an ally of the giants," she said, gasping for air as her rib cage and lungs were squashed. "I came here to propose a plan."

"I'm listening," said the dragon, its voice almost deafening at this range.

"I need the belt that the giants stole. If we work together, we can defeat the giants. They fear to face you, or they would have come before now. Once the giants are dead, I can take the belt I came for, your hoard will be safe, and we can go our separate ways."

"And supposing you were sent here by the giants, to tell me all of this? To lure me out of my home, so that they can sneak in and steal my wealth?"

"That would leave you and me alone in the giants' lair. You'd quickly realise my duplicity and kill me. I can assure you, I have no intention of dying any time soon."

"I believe you, little one," said the dragon, placing her back down on the floor. "It just so happens these giants have stolen from me before. They came one night whilst I was away and took as much as they could carry from my hoard. I intended to retaliate, but their numbers were too great. They breed quickly, these giants. But how do you intend for us to defeat these giants? You are but one, and even with my help, you will probably die."

"I'm not alone. I have friends who are waiting not far from here."

"You seem to have planned this well."

"Of course. I wouldn't have come here simply to waste your time."

"Had you wasted my time, I would have eaten you by now. Did the Fire Giants say when they would be here?"

"No, but it didn't sound like they'd be waiting long. We should wait here for them, and set up an ambush."

"We shall do no such thing. I will allow no giants near my home. No, you will go to them and engage them. You will then send a sign when the time is right for me to join in the battle, and I will come from above. They will not expect that."

"A sign? Will a plume of fire sent up into the sky suffice?"

"It will. Now go, before I tire of your presence, and lay your trap. I will be watching for your signal."

It felt strange to be the one being dismissed for a change. It had been so long since she had last taken orders or instructions from somebody, that for a moment she had an urge to refuse simply on principle. Then instinct kicked in, and she hurried away from the dragon before it could change its mind.

"You're lucky that dragon didn't crush you to death or eat you!" said Sand, when she rejoined the group. "Imagine, lying to a dragon like that! And reverse psychology? What would you have done if the dragon had liked your idea to wait around for the giants to show up? Which they never would have done, of course."

"It seemed like the best idea at the time," she said with a shrug. Now that she was back she could let herself breathe normally, and let nerves catch up with her body, which was shaking slightly.

"That was great," Neeshka grinned. "Shame you couldn't get any of its gold, but I suppose beggars can't be choosers. At least, that's what I've heard, anyway."

"I have to admit, lass, I was worried back there for a minute. I thought fer sure ye were a dead woman," said Khelgar.

"Worried?" Bishop scoffed. "If Sand hadn't cast a holding spell on you, you would've charged into that valley and been promptly flambéd alive."

"I never had any doubts that you would be successful," said Grobnar, smiling. "In fact, I think I'll compose a song about it. 'The Knight-Captain and the Dragon'. I'm sure the men at the Keep will love to hear all about it."

"Here's another song for ye to compose," said Khelgar. "The Gnome Being Thumped by Khelgar Ironfist. Which is what'll happen if ye don't get a move on."

"I'm not sure the men will appreciate hearing about that one so much."

"Come on," said Kail, leading them back to the lair of the giants. "I want to get this over and done with."

o - o - o - o - o

Later that afternoon, she got her wish. She crouched with the others in their previous hiding placed, and peered out at the giant encampment. Not much had changed since her last visit. There was one less giant this time, but more hell-hounds. Some of the giants were playing with the dogs, tossing what appeared to be human skulls for the hounds to chase and receive. Had it not been for the gruesome nature of the toys, it might have been an endearing scene.

"How do you want to do this?" Neeshka whispered. Kail surveyed the lair for a moment, then turned back to the group.

"Khelgar and I will go in. We'll get as close to their leader as we can. We need to take him out first, to disorganise the rest. Sand, as soon as we attack, you send a fireball into the sky to signal the dragon. Neeshka, Bishop, I want you to concentrate on the hell-hounds. Bring down as many as you can, keep them off our backs."

"What about me?" asked Grobnar hopefully.

"You... er... see if you can confuse some of the giants. I know you're good at charm spells and the like."

"Oh, of course! You know, it's such a shame Mister Pointy had to miss this. I know he would have enjoyed a good old fight against some Fire Giants."

"Right. Now, does every understand the plan?"

When everybody confirmed that they did, she nodded at Khelgar, and together they stepped out onto the path to the giant's lair. This time, the giants were alert, and they spotted the pair as soon as they came within sight. Each giant hefted a deadly looking weapon as they approached, and finally she stopped a dozen paces away from the giants' leader.

"So, you're back," he said loudly. "Yet I see no dragon heart with you. Did you fail to kill it, or did you simply change your tiny minds?"

"We killed it," she said, allowing a smile to creep across her face at the sight of the giant's disbelief. "As for the heart... it was messy. I had to wrap it in cloth and put it in my pack, or I would have gotten blood all over my clothes."

"Very well. Let's see it."

She removed her backpack and placed it carefully on the floor. Every giant took a step forward, craning their necks to try and get a better view. From her pack she took out a sheet of parchment, and put it on the ground, weighting it beneath a stone so it wouldn't blow away. Another she gave to Khelgar.

"Keep hold of this for me," she said, meeting his eyes squarely. He nodded, and slipped it into a pouch on his belt. She took out another couple of small bags, which held medicinal herbs, then felt her fingers close around the item she sought. "Here it is," she said, looking up at the giant leader. He nodded, and she withdrew her hand. The giant narrowed his eyes as she brought out a bag that was obviously far too small to hold a dragon's heart, but before he could act, she threw the bag at a cluster of nearby giants. The bag broke open, and a plethora of vines came gushing out. They grabbed the ankles and legs of the giants, tripping them up as they tried to move.

The rest of the giants were quick to react. They rushed forward, weapons held high. Khelgar ran to strike at the giants' leader, and Kail drew the Sword as she heard the sound of a fireball exploding high above her. Her heart began to quicken as she dodged the first giant and whirled on the spot, striking behind her to hamstring her opponent. Any moment now the dragon would appear. She just had to keep the giants occupied for long enough.

As another giant hurtled towards her, she ducked and rolled over her shoulder, her hands coming to rest on the parchment she'd left beneath the rock as she pushed herself up from the ground. Before the giant had turned, she read the words from the scroll, and saw her antagonist looking around with an astonished look on his face. She had just disappeared from his view, and from the view of everybody else on the battlefield. Taking a brief reprieve, she glanced around, to see how her friends were faring; Khelgar was ducking and weaving around the giant leader, his axe a blur as he attempted to slash the giant's kneecaps. Not far away, one giant was fighting another, and she suspected Grobnar's hand there. On the other side of the clearing, Bishop and Neeshka weren't doing so well. They'd found places high on a ledge to shoot from, but two giants were hurling boulders up at them, and they barely had time to get a shot off each before they were forced to duck back behind the rocks atop the ledge. From the ground a few paces away from her, several huge, ephemeral tentacles rose up, and she briefly made out some sort of horrific, illusionary face. One of the giants caught up in the illusion keeled over, dead before he hit the floor. Kail was impressed. She'd only heard of the Weird spell before, had never seen it for herself. She hadn't realised Sand knew such powerful magic.

She desperately wanted to use the cover of her Invisibility spell to strike at the Fire Giants' leader, but she knew this was a fight Khelgar had to handle himself. Though he hadn't said anything, she knew the giant's accusation, that Loudram had been a coward and traded his life for that of his men and the Belt of Ironfist. Khelgar wasn't just fighting to prove himself, he was fighting to regain the honour of the Ironfists. To prove that he was no coward. He needed to do this, like she'd needed to fight Lorne Starling.

She turned her attention to the two giants harassing Neeshka and Bishop. She ran towards them, but was intercepted by a hell-hound that had heard her footfalls. As it leapt, she ducked and raised the Sword above her head, gutting the dog as it sailed through the air. Then she continued running and drove the Sword into the back of one of them as her invisibility spell began to wear off. Where in the hells was that dragon?

From behind she heard a roar of pain, and she turned in time to see Khelgar removing his axe from the head of the Fire Giant leader, who was on his knees in front of the dwarf. Dodging weapons being swung wildly at her almost-invisible body, she hurried towards the pair.

"Khelgar, I need that scroll!" she said. He pulled off his belt pouch and tossed it to her. She caught it in her left hand and ripped it open, then read the words on the scroll. Two wyverns materialised in front of her, launching themselves at the nearest giant, pulling it to the ground with the combined weight of their bodies.

"Kail!" Neeshka shouted. "Behind you!"

Kail turned, and saw a giant almost upon her. As it swung its weapon towards her, she leapt aside, and the Sword went skittering from her grip across the ground, its silvery light dying as she lost touch with it. The giant turned raised its weapon with a malicious grin on its face, ready to pound her into the rocks. Then it froze, its gazing rising upwards as a shadow swept over the ground. There was a crunching sound as its body was squeezed in powerful jaws, and a strong wind buffeted Kail, rolling her along the ground, and the dragon alighted, crushing a giant as it landed.

Once the dragon joined in the fray, things quickly turned in Kail's favour. The dragon lashed out with its jaws and its tail, crushing giants, sweeping them off their feet, stamping on hell-hounds that got too close. Before long, the giants were all dead, and the few remaining hell-hounds were fleeing in terror. Kail quickly recovered her Sword, and approached the dragon cautiously as it tossed a giant corpse into the air and caught it in its jaws, like a huge cat playing with a dead mouse. Bishop and Neeshka slid down the slope of loose stones from their ledge, and Sand appeared at the entrance to the canyon, with Grobnar in tow. Khelgar, meanwhile, was removing the Belt of Ironfist from the body of the dead Fire Giant leader.

"What took you so long?" she asked the dragon angrily. "We sent the signal ages ago."

"I had to wait for the best time to join the fight," it replied airily.

"You mean until it was safe enough for you!"

"You forget yourself, little human. Our alliance is temporary, and I have no issue at all with killing you if you continue to be impertinent. You are alive and unharmed, are you not? Be thankful that I came at all. You never stipulated how long after seeing your signal I should come, nor did I suggest my presence would be immediate. Many of my kind would have used that loophole to come only after you and your companions were dead, and the giants significantly weakened by your efforts. Remember that, the next time you make agreements with dragons."

"I apologise, of course, oh mighty... uh..."

"Tholapsyx."

"I trust that you're satisfied with the outcome and that we'll part company as agreed?" she asked, as contritely as possible.

"Yes, yes, you've played your part well. Take your prize and leave before my benevolence wears off."

"I wonder if I might--" Grobnar began, then was silenced by Sand's hand clamping firmly over his mouth.

"Khelgar, do you have what you need?" she asked the dwarf.

"Aye, lass. I've got the belt right here. I think it's time we showed Keros what a real Ironfist is made of."

She nodded, and let him lead the way out of the canyon. From behind, she heard the sound of the dragon counting aloud as it sifted through the pile of gold, and Neeshka groaned loudly in regret.

o - o - o - o - o

Kail shivered, and pulled her cloak around her body. The heat of the volcano was already forgotten; with every step they neared the Ironfist Clanhold, and every step took them deeper into wintry weather. Though she was already wearing a warm shirt and her coat, the wind still blew coldly around her body, finding gaps in her clothing, chilling her to the bone. Grobnar was so cold that even though they'd reclaimed Mister Pointy, he'd chosen to talk, to make his muscles move and his body warm with the exertion.

At midday they stopped briefly for food, but it was too cold to sit still for long. They ate as they marched, refilling their water bottles whenever they came to a river or stream which wasn't frozen over. They'd long since descended Galardrym, and now they were in more familiar forested terrain. It was a blessed change from the bare, wind-scoured mountainside. In the early afternoon they finally neared the Clanhold. Kail pulled Khelgar to one side, to talk privately with him. He'd been silent since leaving the Fire Giant lair, and she knew he had a lot on his mind. Until now she'd been content to leave him to himself, but now she needed to talk to him about what was going to happen next. She needed to know if he had a plan.

"How are you feeling, Khelgar?" she asked.

"I'm alright, lass. Just had a lot t' think about, ye know?"

"Are you worried about what that giant said, about Loudram?"

"Aye. I mean, Loudram's always been a hero to my people. I've tried to walk in his footsteps. I've tried to live my life how he would have wanted. But to find out that he was really a coward, a traitor... it's like my whole life has been a lie. Everything that I've wanted to be and everything that I've done, it's just been an illusion."

"Do you know what I think? I think you tried to measure yourself against somebody you've always thought of as a hero. And now you've learnt that he didn't measure up as you thought he would. But that doesn't make your accomplishments any less. It just means you're a far better man than Loudram was. Instead of lamenting the fact that your hero didn't measure up to you, be proud of everything that you've done which has brought honour to the name of Ironfist. You aren't Loudram, Khelgar. You're better than him. You won't make his mistakes."

"Thank ye, lass. It means a lot that you think that way. And ye're right. Despite what Loudram did in the past, I've brought honour to me clan."

"So what happens next?"

"Well, according to the Trial of Torim, the one who lifts the Hammer of Ironfist is the one who'll lead the Ironfists. I suppose once I've done that, the clan will have to follow me."

"Will you stay with them? I mean, if you're their new leader, you'll need to be there to guide them, won't you?"

"Maybe. I guess I'll have to see what happens, and if they take the transfer in leadership well. Keros is a popular dwarf. Some might prefer to back him instead of me."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, and we'll cross it together."

"Hey, mossbreath," said Neeshka, trotting over to them. It suddenly occurs to me that nobody but us knows you've got the Gauntlets _and_ the Belt."

"So? What about it?"

"It gives us an edge. I mean, just think of how much money we can make from a betting pool that involves you arm-wrestling."

"Bah! I'm not using the artifacts of my clan fer nefarious purposes!"

"But think of how much ale you'll win!"

"I hate to break up your little gambling consortium," said Sand, "but we'll be back at the Clanhold soon, and I think we should have a plan in case things should go horribly wrong."

"What could possibly go wrong?" Kail asked.

"Well, you _do_ tend to attract violence in rather large quantities."

"Nothing will go wrong," said Khelgar confidently. "Even if me kin don't accept me as their leader, they wouldn't harm us. Well, they might rough me up a bit, and they'd probably throw Grobnar out on his rear, but you tall folk shouldn't have much to worry about. If they can't grab ye by the collar, ye'll be fine."

Sand didn't seem convinced, but there were no more objections as they entered the tall doors of the Clanhold. As before, Khayar was waiting for them, and Khulmar walked into the entrance hall at the same time.

"Khelgar!" said Khulmar, a wide grin on his face. "I was expecting you back yesterday! How did it go with the Fire Giants? Did you find the Belt?"

"Indeed I did," he replied, patting the ancient belt fastened around his waist. "Assemble the clan, it's time fer the Hammer of Ironfist to be put to use."

The Clanhold was a blur of action. In just a few short minutes, Kail and her friends found themselves herded towards the room where the Hammer of Ironfist lay upon a stone pedestal. The weapon looked oddly dull, as if it was dormant, and it reminded Kail of the way her Sword looked when it was away from her touch. Perhaps the Hammer, like the Sword, needed to be held by a certain person to realise its full potential.

Dwarves began to arrive in the room, milling around in small groups, whispering quietly amongst themselves in the dwarven language. Kail could only understand a few words of what they said, but the air seemed charged with excitement, and when Keros himself finally made an appearance, all of the conversation ceased.

"Well, Khelgar, care to tell me what you've brought me here for?" said Keros.

"Damn right I do! This is about the honour of the Ironfists. I gave ye a chance to do the right thing, Keros. The King of Shadows is a threat to us all, but you're too blinded by anger and dislike of Neverwinter to see that. Ye've forced my hand, and brought this down upon yerself. See, I've fought and defeated the king of the Fire Giants. I took the Belt of Ironfist from his corpse. I found the Gauntlets of Ironfist when I freed this Clanhold from the rule of the bugbears, and now I'm going to be the one to lift the Hammer of Ironfist from its resting place."

Khelgar stepped up to the Hammer, and for a moment he simply looked at is, as if afraid to try and fail. Then he reached out, placed his gauntleted hands around the handle, and lifted the Hammer from its pedestal. There was a flash of brightness, and suddenly the whole room seemed filled with a white light. Kail closed her eyes, and when she opened them again she saw Khelgar standing triumphantly with a rapturous smile on his face. The Hammer was in his hands, and lightning seemed to crackle around it. After countless years of slumbering, the Hammer of Ironfist had finally been awakened.

One by one, the dwarves in the room began to bend knee. First was Khulmar, followed by Khayar and the rest of the dwarves from their scout group. At last, only Keros was left standing, and he watched Khelgar with a look of surprise and anger on his face.

"You might think this makes you the leader of our clan, Khelgar," he said, "but it does not. It takes more than the Hammer of Ironfist to be able to lead our people. It takes wisdom and experience, neither of which you have."

"Wisdom and experience," Khelgar replied, "can only come with age and experience itself. Everybody has to start somewhere, and no leader begins leading knowing how to do it. But I'm a lot wiser than I was when I left, and though I might not have experience, I have something that's just as good; courage. Ye might not think I'm good enough t' lead the clan, but everybody else seems convinced. Even Torim Ironfist himself has given his approval, otherwise I would never have been led to finding the Gauntlets and the Belt, and I would never have been able to lift the Hammer. So I guess what it comes down to is whether ye have faith in Torim. Because if ye oppose me, after everything I've done... that shows ye've no faith in the founder of the Ironfists. Ye've no faith in the clan itself."

With great reluctance, Keros finally joined his fellow dwarves on the ground. Kail realised, then, that something profound had happened. For Khelgar, nothing would ever be the same again. He had finally come home and been accepted back. And more than that, he had given her powerful allies to help defeat the King of Shadows. She repaid him in the only way that she could; she joined the dwarves in kneeling to him, and gestured for her friends to do the same. Grobnar did so happily, though he was scribbling on his parchment at the same time. Neeshka followed, almost as reluctantly as Keros, and then Sand and Bishop joined them, both looking as if they'd been forced down against their will.

"Tell us your command, Khelgar," said Khulmar, his head bowed low.

"We need to ready ourselves fer war. I'll be returning to Crossroad Keep in the morning, and I want every able warrior to join me there. Leave behind only a force large enough to keep the Clanhold safe."

"You're leaving us?" said a dwarf whose name Kail did not know.

"Not fer long. Keros can lead ye to Crossroad Keep, he's done an admiral job of leading the clan in the past. We'll make our stand at the Keep, and when we're victorious, I'll return here, to take me place with the clan."

"You'll stay for a celebration tonight, won't you?" asked Khulmar as he stood.

"Aye, I wouldn't miss that fer the world. And to be honest, I've been telling me friends here all about dwarven hospitality, and I think it's about time that we showed 'em what we're made of."

"Then come this way, my friends," said Khulmar. "We'll get you some ale and some food, and you'll wish you never had to leave."

o - o - o - o - o

"I hope you know what you're doing, Khelgar," said Keros. He spoke loudly enough to be heard over the din of the celebration which was in full swing in the huge dining hall, but quiet enough that only those closest to him could hear. Currently, that involved Khelgar, Khulmar, Kail, Neeshka and Grobnar, who were sharing a round table and a round of ales. "Your first decision as clan leader is going to shed a lot of Ironfist blood."

"Better that we shed blood now than be slaughtered when the King of Shadows turns his attention to us. We're going to war one way or the other. Best to do it on our terms, Keros."

"Don't call him that," Kail said, and five confused faces peered at her. "The King of Shadows, I mean. Don't call him that anymore. Call him 'the Guardian', because that's what he is. The 'King of Shadows' is a self-important title used to strike fear into his enemies. I won't give him that. I won't grant him the title he's claimed for himself. He's no king."

"Aye, lass, I suppose yer right. Better to name him as what he was, rather than what he wants to be."

"But this means I'm going to have to re-write my masterpiece," said Grobnar crestfallen. "I've already described him as the King of Shadows many times in my song."

"By the time you've finished your song, the Ki... er... Guardian will already have been defeated, so it will be fine to call him that then," said Neeshka. "Right, Kail?"

"That's right," she acceded. "When he's gone, you can call him whatever you like."

"Khelgar! Khulmar! Keros!" said Khayar, approaching the table with an ale-fuelled grin on his face. "Come and watch Kherim and Kosoth wrestling! We're taking bets on who's going down first, and they're only just getting warmed up."

"Bets?" asked Neeshka. Had she been a dog, her ears would have pricked up right then.

"Ye all go on without me. I'd like to talk to Kail fer a bit," said Khelgar. They all nodded and left, except Grobnar, who was watching Khelgar expectantly, his quill poised above his parchment.

"Grobnar," said Kail. "Go and watch the wrestling."

"Oh, of course. Silly of me not to have gone," he said, hurrying after the departing dwarves and tiefling. Kail glanced around the rest of the room and smiled. True to their word, the dwarves had done everything they could to make their guests comfortable. The food had been almost upto Sal's standards, and the ale was the best she had ever tasted. Now, the celebrations were in full swing. Groups of dwarves were singing songs that involved lots of phlegm and much quaffing of ale; they seemed to get more ale over themselves and the floor than they did in their mouths, especially when they smashed their glasses loudly together in toast. Sand had already retreated to his bedroom, claiming the dwarven celebrations were too boisterous for his keen elven senses. Bishop, too, had slunk off somewhere, but nobody had protested; Khelgar was the focus of everybody's attention, and he was taking it very well.

"I wanted to thank ye, lass, fer what ye did back there," he said at last. "Ye didn't have to bow to me. If anything, I should be bowing to ye, after everything ye've done fer me."

"Maybe when I've done something worthy of a bow. It was a good thing you did, you know, letting Keros handle the war effort. I think he'll be more amenable to the change of power now."

"That's not why I did it. I did it because Keros was right. I don't have any experience of leading people. Until I do, I'll need to rely on advisors, people who already _do_ have experience, and Keros is one of those people."

"You'll make a great leader some day Khelgar, I know it."

"Aye, one day. I'm in no rush to get there though." He drank his ale for a moment, and seemed to be debating something internally. At last he put his cup down, and looked her in the aye. "Fer a while, I thought ye were crazy, ye know. The way ye went on about that damn Sword, the way ye took off when Jerro and Zhjaeve took it away from ye. But now, I think I know how ye felt. When I lifted the Hammer of Ironfist, I could have sworn I heard Torim Ironfist's voice giving me his approval. I don't think that would have happened for just anybody. It's like... it's like..."

"Like the weapon chooses you," she finished for him.

"Exactly. Now this Hammer, it's as precious to me as any child. Do ye know what I mean?"

"Of course I do. And if having an overly strong attachment to a weapon makes me crazy... well, at least I'm in good company," she smiled.

"Heh, I suppose so!"

"I think I'm going to head off to bed," she said, downing the last of her ale. "It's been a long few days, and I want to make it back to the Keep as soon as possible. I've got a feeling that in my absence, Veedle will have done horrible things to my room."

"Ye go on ahead, ye know where yer room is?"

"Yeah, I remember. It's the nice big one with the comfy bed. Trust me, a comfy bed is something I'll never forget in a hurry. If Neeshka asks where I've gone, will you let her know that I'm sleeping soundly."

"Aye, I will. But I get the feeling the tiefling's going to be busy down here fer a while. By the sound of it, the fight's only just got going."

She gave him another small bow with a swish of her cloak, then left the great hall and all of the noisy merrymaking within. Every step that she took made the singing voices a little quieter, until eventually they fell silent. She recognised the area where the bedrooms were located; it had once been an ogre's den, the tunnels leading into it mostly collapsed. Now they had been opened up, and the rooms behind them converted into bedrooms, with soft rugs covering the bare stone floor, and tapestries of dwarven battles hanging down the walls.

"What was all that about?" said an angry voice behind her. She turned and saw Bishop approaching, silent as ever in his soft leather boots.

"What was all what about?"

"The bowing. I don't like being made to bow," he scowled.

"Oh, that. It's simple, really," she said, slowing her pace. "The dwarves needed to see that Khelgar's power is absolute, and that he is respected even by non-dwarves. Showing respect means that the dwarves will respect both Khelgar and us more. If we hadn't bowed, they would have seen us as haughty outsiders who consider themselves above bowing to the nearest thing they have to a king."

"I liked you a lot better before you starting meddling in politics."

"Actually, this is Lucas stuff," she said, smiling at the memory of her mentor teaching her about such things. She stopped outside a heavy wooden door set into one wall of the corridor. "Was there anything else you wanted?" she asked.

"Are you dismissing me, _Captain_?"

"Well, this **is** my bedroom," she smiled, gesturing at the door.

"In that case, no, there's nothing else I wanted," he said, and sauntered off down the corridor.

She slipped inside the room, warmed from the fire burning in the hearth, and sank wearily down into a comfortable arm-chair beside the fire. Despite the problems she'd encountered, this mission had gone well. Neverwinter had another strong ally in the coming war, and Khelgar has secured his place within his clan forever. This had been a good mission... but still, she couldn't quite shake the feeling that soon, something was bound to go horribly wrong.


	98. Sacrifice, Loss and Reward

_98. Sacrifice, Loss and Reward_

The Greycloaks had been keeping an eye out for her arrival back at Crossroad Keep. Kail could tell, because as soon as she rode into the courtyard, both Kana and Nevalle were waiting for her, the former with armfuls of paperwork, and the latter wearing a grim expression. They both approached her, glaring at each other for daring to be the one to speak first. She forestalled them both, raising a hand to silence them.

"Before you pile the paperwork on me again, and give me whatever bad news you're about to break," she said, "you should know that our mission was successful, the Ironfists have agreed to aid us against the Guardian, and now I'm going to have a well-earned bath. Whatever you need to discuss can wait until I'm clean. Any objections?"

"None, Captain," said Nevalle. "Lord Nasher won't arrive here until the morrow, so you have plenty of time to bathe and be updated by Kana."

"What? Lord Nasher's coming _here_?" she asked, sliding from Wind's saddle. Kana gave Nevalle a withering look. "Why?"

"We've had word that the shadow's on the move again... towards Neverwinter. Our evacuation isn't complete yet, there are still many families and merchants yet to leave for Port Llast. Lord Nasher believes that our best chance is to ride out and meet the undead on the battlefield. While you were gone, Highcliff fell to them. Lord Nasher wants to engage them there, and maybe push the back to Fort Locke," said Nevalle.

"But I won't be ready to ride out by tomorrow!" she said, despair creeping into her heart.

"You won't be riding with us, Captain. Your job is to stay here and ready the Keep. Should we fail, this is the only defensive location standing between the shadow army and Neverwinter. Your Greycloak troops and your allies are to remain here with you. Our Greycloak army has already arrived from Neverwinter, and the last few groups of soldiers will be arriving with Lord Nasher in the morning..."

"The lizardmen have moved to the forests, Captain," Kana interrupted. "What Sir Nevalle has failed to mention is that there are just too many troops here now for the Keep to sustain. We have men camping on the ground in the inner courtyard. The tavern is full to bursting, and the Keep itself not much better. I think the lizardmen didn't like being around so many people. They left an emissary here, and left to camp in the forest, ready for when you call them."

"What's done is done," she said with a sinking feeling in her stomach. As she had suspected, Lord Nasher was forcing his own will onto her and her Keep. "The lizards will be happier in the forest anyway. They never liked being in the Keep. What of the Greycloaks? Did the group from Old Owl Well arrive here yet?"

"Yes," said Kana, pulling a face as if she had a bad taste in her mouth. "A few of them were suitable for our army. I sent the others on to Neverwinter, to help with the evacuation. Then Lord Nasher sent them _back_ here with his own army. It seems Neverwinter's standards of recruitment are a little more... lax... than ours, Captain."

"Lord Nasher feels that every hand that can hold a weapon will be of use on the battlefield," said Nevalle defensively.

"I need to think about a few things," said Kail, handing Wind's reins to a patiently waiting groom. "I'm going for a bath. I'll meet you both in the war-room in two hours."

"I'll ask the kitchen to prepare some food," said Kana, apparently reading her mind. "Oh, and Captain, welcome home."

o - o - o - o - o

_Welcome home._ They were words which haunted her over the next few hours. They bounced around the inside of her skull as she lay in the bath, and rose up from her subconscious while she was meeting with Kana and Nevalle within the seclusion of the war-room. _Welcome home._

But was it, really? Home? She had never thought of this place as home, had always considered it a burden, but to Kana, and the Greycloaks stationed here... it was the only home they had. It was the only home _she_ had, but she still didn't want it. The Keep wasn't home. It was a place, of brick and stone and thatch, but it was no more home to her than Neverwinter. Home was gone forever. Home wasn't a place, it was people; the people of West Harbor, who had been doomed to die the moment the ancient Illefarn people conceived the idea of the Guardian.

Her thoughts as she returned to her suite several hours later were dark and sober. She desperately wanted to sleep, but she knew if she went to bed she would merely lie awake thinking about the forthcoming battle. The battle she had been ordered by Nasher to stay out of. It wasn't fair. Waiting behind whilst others risked their lives was worse than the fighting itself. Didn't Nasher understand that she _had_ to be there? Without her, without Ammon Jerro and the Ritual they held between them, there could be no victory. Why was he risking his life like this? Why not wait for the shadow to reach the Keep, and make a stand here, with her army, with her allies? Was it a glory thing? Did Nasher think he could defeat the shadow army without her? Did he want to gain credit for routing the army of the enemy and saving the people of Neverwinter? It was the only explanation for his foolishness.

She sat at her desk and opened the top drawer, intending to go over old scout reports. What she saw instead was a piece of paper with only a single sentence written on it. She picked up the paper and read it.

_When the last words have been spoken,_

This seemed like as good a time as any to add to it. Calmly, letting her emotions lie still, she picked up her quill, dipped it into the inkwell, and put the nib to the paper. She didn't try to think of the words, she simply let them travel through her, from somewhere, to her head, down her arm, and into the quill. It made a scratching sound as she wrote another sentence. Then she put the quill down, blew across the page to dry the ink, and read it again.

_When the last words have been spoken,_

_ And when the last dance is through,_

That was all she could write for now, but it seemed appropriate. There would, after all, be no more words, no more dances. Tomorrow would be the beginning of the end. Whatever happened now, would happen, and history would record tomorrow as either a great victory or a great loss. Tomorrow, lives would be lost, and she would be here, sitting safely in her Keep, telling her men that everything was going to be okay. It was a bitter lie to taste.

o - o - o - o - o

Lord Nasher arrived early the next morning. There was no fanfare, no air of excitement and anticipation, only one of grim resignation. Neverwinter's Greycloak army, numbering almost a thousand, was ready to march. Her own Greycloaks, better equipped than their city-kin, were standing behind the walls, lining the balustrades and the ramparts, ready to see their colleagues off, and thankful that they weren't going with them.

Nasher stayed long enough to give Kail only a perfunctory greeting, and to reiterate his orders for her to remain in the Keep no matter what. Then he rode out, with Nevalle and the six remaining members of the Nine beside him -- Kail recognised Darmon, and gave him a brief smile of encouragement when Nasher wasn't looking -- and a long, snaking column of Greycloaks following behind them.

As the last of the departing army disappeared from view, riding south-east into the rising sun, Kana ordered the Keep's Greycloaks to resume their posts, and started issuing orders for the engineers and stone-masons to continue fortifying the defences. One by one, her companions turned away, returning to the Keep. But as Bishop turned to leave, she reached out and grasped the sleeve of his shirt, keeping him there until they were alone.

"I need to know what's happening out there," she said quietly, her eyes lingering on the horizon.

"Why? You care about Nasher's safety now?" he growled.

"Please," she said, turning to face him. She couldn't explain to him that she _needed_ to know about the battle as it happened. She couldn't explain that she'd regret every loss of every Greycloak life out there. She couldn't explain that it physically hurt to be kept out of the fight whilst others were dying for her. He would never be able to understand something like that. But he could understand 'please', and she mentally willed him to comply.

"Fine," he sighed at last. "If it'll shut you up." He glanced down at Karnwyr, and the wolf loped off through the open gates. "It'll take him a while to catch up with the army, so I'm going to get breakfast." He glared at her, as if daring her to contradict him, but she simply let him pass without a word.

Throughout the day, she tried to resume her normal duties. She had lunch with Kana, and they went over recent scout reports, then moved onto events that had occurred in and around her lands during her absence. After that they made a tour of the entire Keep, and Kana showed her all of the defences that had been put in place. Siege crossbows had been mounted at the highest points of the Keep, and oil spouts installed around it. The only thing it lacked was a moat, but Kana didn't think a moat would be much use against the undead. After making the rounds and inspecting the men, they retreated back to the war-room, to discuss the more trivial matters of where to station the lizardmen and the Ironfists, and how many of the Greycloaks were fit for mounted combat. Kail was just starting to breathe easy when a knock on the door interrupted their discussion, and Bishop stuck his head around the door. Her heart leapt; he would only have come if he had news to bring.

"We need to talk," he said, glaring at Kana. The woman began to rise, but Kail gestured for her to sit. She wasn't finished with her lieutenant yet, so she left Kana in the war-room and joined Bishop in the corridor, pulling the door closed behind her.

"What's happening?" she asked, feeling her pulse racing as she searched his golden eyes in the dim light.

"Neverwinter's army was defeated," he said without emotion. "Lord Nasher was injured. Nevalle and the rest of his boot-lickers are fine, and they're retreating. They'll be here within a couple of hours." Her heart skipped a few beats, and she took a deep breath, already regretting the question that was poised on the tip of her tongue.

"How any of the Greycloaks survived?"

"Less than half, many of them injured, and some who won't survive the night."

The Keep rocked for a moment and went blurry, as if seen with double-vision, and it only cleared when the tears in her eyes rolled down her cheeks. Over five hundred men dead in less than a day! How could this be? Why hadn't Nasher pulled out sooner? It was a several hour ride to the Keep, if he'd broken off the battle sooner...

"Wait a moment," she said, anger replacing the regret she felt at the loss of so many lives. "If they're only a couple of hours away, they must have been retreating for a couple of hours already. At _least_! Why didn't you come and tell me sooner? Why didn't you tell me as soon as the battle started to go badly? Why didn't you tell me when they started to retreat?!"

She knew that every question made her shout louder and louder, but she was beyond caring. He'd purposely with-held information from her. Had she known what was happening, she could have ridden out with her own army. She could have turned the tide of the battle and saved lives.

"Because I'm not stupid, despite what the paladin might think," he replied, his voice quiet and cold, quite opposed to her own. "I knew that if I told you what was happening you'd assemble your little army and ride out there and try to be a hero. But Nasher told you to wait here. He said not to leave under any circumstances, and personally, I think that's the smartest thing he's ever said."

"Fine. Wait here," she hissed, and strode back into the room. "Kana! Ready the Greycloaks. We're riding out. Ask Casavir and Sand to meet me down at the stable. Get Elanee and Zhjaeve up into the courtyard. And get that monk out of the monastery, he can help too. Tell Khelgar he's to keep order whilst we're gone. What, no objections?" she snapped at Bishop, who was simply watching her.

"Well, the retreating army isn't being pursued, so if you want to ride out there and help them hobble back to Keep, then I'm not going to stop you."

"But Captain," said Kana, "forgive me, but Lord Nasher said..."

"I know what Lord Nasher said, but I'm ignoring his instructions because they're stupid. If you wish to tender your resignation please do so now, but I'm taking half of the men out there whether you come or not."

"I'll have them ready to leave within half an hour," Kana nodded.

Kail hurried back to her room for her coat and the RAMP. Despite Bishop's assurance that there was no pursuit, she didn't want to take any chances. She loaded the miniature crossbow fully, but left the safety catch on. Her urge was to rush out into the courtyard, to mount her horse and gallop off. Instead, she forced herself to walk, albeit quickly. Both Sand and Casavir were already waiting for her by the stables, and the Greycloaks were quickly assembling, the red light of the setting sun shining off their armour, bathing them in scarlet light. How many of their faces would soon be red with blood instead of sunlight?

Three grooms led out horses; Wind, and two browns, with Kana following behind, the reins of a ginger horse in her hands. They mounted up, and by the time Kail had checked her stirrups and her girth and turned to face the men, they were assembled before her, standing in lines, watching her with a mixture of fear and anticipation painting their faces.

"You may have heard rumours," she said pitching her voice to carry across the courtyard, "about what happened to the army that set off this morning. But I want you to hear the truth from me. Lord Nasher's army has been forced to retreat. They're falling back to Crossroad Keep, with no sign of pursuit. We're going to meet them, and bring them home. I'm not expecting any resistance, but I want you all to stay on guard just in case. Those of you who are staying behind are to continue your duties, and follow Khelgar's orders. I'll be back in a few hours, and I want the Keep prepared to accept and tend to the wounded."

She turned Wind and trotted out of the Keep, with Kana by her side, and Casavir and Sand behind them. From behind came the sound of over a hundred booted feet following, but she didn't turn around. Her gaze was fixed firmly on the horizon, her eyes searching for any sign of the retreating army. It would be so easy to send Wind on into a canter, to race to the army, but the Greycloaks would not have been able to keep up. They needed her to lead them. They needed a leader to do what was right, not what she wanted, no matter how much she hated it.

They rode for over an hour in silence, the only sound the footfalls of the horses and the men behind them. The others seemed to sense that she didn't want to talk, and she was grateful for it. She didn't want to give voice to her worst fears, that Lord Nasher might be dead. Though she didn't particularly like the man, she had at least some small measure of respect for him. And more than that; he was far more experienced at leading people than she. All she had to do was make the killing blow against the Guardian, even if she died in the process. But she couldn't do the rest of it, the battles, the wars, the minutiae, without his guidance and advice.

Some halfway into their second hour of marching, as the sun finally dropped below the horizon, they came upon the retreating army, and it was in a poor state. Half of the Greycloaks were hobbling along, using their swords as walking sticks. Some wore crudely applied bandages that did little to stem bleeding. Others were being carried by their fellows; some by piggy-back, some on makeshift stretchers made out of bloodied cloaks. Everywhere she looked she saw broken men. Broken arms, broken legs, gushing head wounds, slashes to ribs and stomaches. And at the head of it all, Sir Nevalle had Lord Nasher on his own horse, propped up in front of him, unconscious. Nasher's horse was being led by another of the Nine, a woman Kail had briefly seen once in Brelaina's office. Now, the woman's confident veneer had been replaced by a pale, exhausted face. The rest of the Nine were little better; Nevalle had a shallow cut to his temple, but nothing too severe. Darmon looked to be nursing a broken arm, and two of the others were bleeding from several places. She finally dared to push Wind to a canter, and the other three horses followed. As she approached the army, she turned Wind, and fell into line with the Nine, placing herself between Nevalle and Darmon.

"How's Lord Nasher?" she asked, peering into the pale white face of the leader of Neverwinter. Blood trickled from one corner of his mouth, and his crown was skew-whiff on his head. His blue eyes were closed and lines of pain were etched into his face.

"He ordered you not to leave the Keep," said Nevalle, frowning at both her and the Greycloaks behind her.

"And well it is for you that I'm not one of the Nine and that I know when some orders need to be broken," she said firmly, then turned to her own Greycloaks. "Help the men carry the wounded. Hurry now, we won't be truly safe until we're back at the Keep and the sun has risen."

"How is it that you know where and when to find us?" the woman leading Nasher's horse asked.

"A little bird told me," she said with the sweetest smile she could muster. Was it too much to expect a little gratitude from these people? She _was_ risking her life, and the lives of her men, to help them, after all. "Nevalle, you and the Nine should take Lord Nasher back to the Keep, he looks like he's in a bad way. I'll bring the rest of the army behind you, but Lord Nasher needs immediate attention."

"I don't think Lord Nasher would wish me to leave you out here," he said, a familiar, stubborn look on his face.

"Don't be stupid, Nevalle," she sighed, and heard the woman of the Nine splutter in shock that she had addressed her captain so. "Look, right now, we're not being followed, so I'm in no more danger here than I would be at the Keep. If by some small chance the shadow army does manage to catch up with them, even though we're several hours ahead of them, I have Casavir and Sand with me. And anything wanting to do me harm will also have to get past Kana; she's already told me that she swore an oath to protect my life with hers. Meanwhile, if Lord Nasher dies because you're too stubborn and foolish to do the right thing, you're going to have to deal with a succession or picking a new leader or whatever. We really don't have time for that right now."

"She makes a fair point," said Darmon, smiling painfully.

"Alright," said Nevalle quietly. "We'll take Lord Nasher back to the Keep with all possible speed. But then I'm coming back here to make sure you don't get yourself killed."

"Glad that's settled. I'll see you soon. The healers are waiting for you."

He nodded, and sent his horse forward with the rest of the Nine following him. She had to hold Wind back; he wanted to run with the others, and she couldn't blame him. Animals didn't like the smell of death, and the Greycloak army behind them reeked of it. And the worst part was, the dead would only rise again, but this time in service to her enemy. Every loss she suffered only granted power to the Guardian. How could you defeat something like that?

o - o - o - o - o

True to his word, Nevalle returned as soon as he'd delivered Lord Nasher to Zhjaeve, and he and Kail led the remnants of Neverwinter's defeated army back to Crossroad Keep. The march back was difficult for the men, and not without loss. A few who were too badly injured died, and their bodies had to be left along the road-side. There was no time to bury them, no time to perform funeral rites, and though some of the Greycloaks wanted to carry their dead colleagues back to the Keep to be buried honourably, she knew the bodies would only be an unnecessary burden to the injured and exhausted soldiers. Her own Greycloaks helped as best they could, but they were greatly outnumbered by the injured and dying. The cost of this rescue mission was ruined morale amongst her own troops. They saw every death as a defeat, every abandoned body as a failure, and she knew exactly how they felt. If only she had set off sooner, more might have been saved.

They made it back to the Keep around midnight, but despite the late hour, nobody was sleeping. Anybody who had even an ounce of healing ability was working hard in the courtyard. Kail saw Zhjaeve, Elanee and Grobnar begin to tend wounded soldiers, and as she and her companions dismounted, Casavir joined them. Sal and his cooks, as well as the kitchen staff from the Keep, were standing behind mismatched wooden tables in front of the inn. On the tables stood large pans of broth, rolls of bread, barrels of ale and a few bottles of stronger spirits for those who needed them. Neeshka was bandaging minor wounds which didn't need healing magic, and Mister Pointy was methodically carrying bodies, placing them side by side in Elanee's temporary grove. Standing in the middle of the courtyard, issuing orders, was Khelgar, with Ammon stood beside him, his arms folded across his chest as he calmly observed everything around him.

Torches and lamps had been lit around the courtyard, bathing the whole place in orange light. Startear was there, too, magically creating orbs of light which suspended themselves in the air at even intervals around the courtyard. Bevil was directing Greycloaks who were carrying their injured brethren, telling them the best places to put down their friends, making sure the paths were kept clear to allow the healers to move about unobstructed. That included the monk who had been roused from the monastery and coerced into offering aid.

"Kana," said Kail, turning to her officer. "Please go and check on Lord Nasher and the rest of the Nine. Nevalle, will you go with her? I'm afraid there's not much you can do out here." They both nodded and left, and she turned to Sand. "You might as well get into the Keep too," she said. "You look as tired as I feel."

"I will enter reverie later," he said dismissively. "For now, I think I'll help Neeshka. I've had experience of dealing with triage and battle injuries before, you know. We saw rather a lot of this during the war with Luskan."

He rolled up his sleeves and glided across the ground, kneeling beside a soldier with a minor cut and picking up a roll of bandages. Kail barely even noticed when a groom gently took Wind's reins from her loose grip. Instead, she walked towards Khelgar and Ammon, knowing there was little she could do for the injured men around her.

"Glad to see ye back, lass," said Khelgar. "We were all worried about ye."

"Thanks," she said, and turned to survey the courtyard. Her own Greycloaks, and those already healed and on their feet, were queuing up beside Sal's table, being served bowls of hot broth and rolls of bread, with glasses of alcohol for those who needed it. "That was a good idea," she said, nodding towards Sal.

"Aye. It was Ammon's suggestion."

She turned to look at the warlock, and he must have seen the surprise on her face.

"Men are much more likely to accept a defeat if they do so on full stomachs," he said gruffly. "Sometimes, a dish of hot food and a glass of cold ale can do more for pain and shock than even the best healer."

"I never would have thought of that," she admitted. "I'm glad you're here. Both of you."

"Heh. Just doing our bit, lass. Speaking of which, ye look exhausted. Why don't ye go and get some sleep?"

"No, no, I'm fine. It's just been a stressful evening. Where's Qara? And Bishop? Why aren't they helping?"

"Qara's in the inn," said Ammon. "She said she gets squeamish at the sight of blood, and I doubt she could have done anything to help out here. If anything, she would have gotten in the way. I thought it best to leave her to her pubescent sulking. And I haven't seen Bishop since you took off."

"I'm going to help Neeshka and Sand," she said suddenly. Despite her aches and her tiredness, she could still help. She could still be of use.

"You shouldn't," said Ammon. "As the Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep, you should delegate those tasks, not do them yourself."

"Tonight, I'm not the Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep. I'm Kail Farlong, and I'm going to heal a few wounds."

She strode towards her friends and picked up a roll of bandages, then made a beeline for the nearest injured soldier. She found one and knelt down beside him; he had a cut along his forehead which dipped down to his eyebrow. It had bled profusely, as all head wounds did, but she knew it wasn't serious.

"What's your name?" she asked as she filled a bowl with cold water from the nearby well.

"Tinby, Sir. Err, Ma'am. Err... Captain. Jake Tinby."

"Well, Jake Tinby, this is going to sting for a moment while I clean it up, but then I'll bandage it and you'll be as good as new. Okay?"

He nodded, and more blood dripped down his pale, clammy face. She dipped her cloth into the cold water and gently washed away the dark blood that had dried on his skin, then pressed the cloth against the wound until the bleeding slowed. Then she wrapped the bandage firmly around his head and tied it off with a double knot.

"How does that feel?" she asked. Tinby raised a hand to his head, to gently probe the dressing.

"Much better, Captain. Thank you!"

"Don't mention it. Now you go and get yourself something to eat and drink. That's an order, Tinby."

He stood and saluted before hurrying away to the back of the queue of hungry, thirsty soldiers. Kail sat back on her heels and observed everybody else. Everybody was working quietly and efficiently, doing their best to help. It was good to know she could rely on those around her in a pinch.

A prickly I'm-being-watched feeling made the hairs on her neck stand on end, and she looked around. Across the courtyard, she saw Daeghun watching her. He'd just finished bandaging and injured soldier, and had stopped to observe her. When he noticed her looking, he gave her a small nod, then turned to another injured Greycloak. She felt a strange sort of warmth spreading inside her. Although she no longer sought her father's approval, it was good to know he was pleased with her, that he thought she was doing the right thing. Somehow, it made her task a little less difficult.

o - o - o - o - o

It was almost dawn when she finally returned to the Keep. Her friends were still healing the hurt, but she'd done as much as she could. The soldiers left could not be helped by mere bandages and poultices. For the first time in a long time, she didn't have to pass Greycloaks on duty at the door. Every able body was in the courtyard helping tend to the injured or digging graves for those who hadn't survived despite the best attempts of Zhjaeve, Elanee and the others.

Wearily, she climbed the steps at the front door and stepped into the dark interior of the Keep. The lamps had been untended all night, and most of them had gone out. Candles in sconces had burned down, flooding the hallways and the rooms with dark shadows. Shivering, she stepped quietly through the corridors, making her way surely to her suite. She hadn't realised that the cleaning people and house-keepers, too, would be away, helping those in the courtyard. She half wished that Khelgar and Ammon had left someone here to tend to the candles and the fires and such, but it _was_ an emergency after all, and they'd done the best that they could in her absence.

When she reached the corridor to her room, she found it in complete darkness. The candles, like so many others throughout the Keep, had died down. She had no desire to step into the darkness, so she leant back against the wall and closed her eyes. The stone was cold against her back, but she didn't care. In fact, it was refreshing. It shocked her body, made it feel invigorated. For a moment, it was even enough to distract her from everything she'd seen in the courtyard. But the moment passed, and the memories came flooding back. People had died down there. They'd died whilst healers were within arm's reach. They'd died because there were too many injured people, because the healers couldn't get to them all in time. They'd died, and somewhere, women had lost husbands and sons. Children had lost brothers and fathers. All because she'd been too slow, because she hadn't reached the army in time. She didn't even bother trying to keep back the tears this time; she let them trickle warmly down her cheeks.

"I thought I smelt the aroma self-righteous anger," said a voice from further down the corridor, hidden in shadows. "At first I thought it was the paladin. I'm disappointed that it's you."

She quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks as Bishop stepped out of the darkness and into the slightly less dark of her part of the corridor. He mimicked her posture, leaning back against the wall opposite her to observe her.

"Why do you always lurk in dark places?" she asked, rubbing her sleeve across her eyes, trying to pretend she was merely tired and not upset.

"Because I know you invariably end up in them. Misery loves company, after all."

"I'm not here because I'm miserable, I'm here because the candles in the hall went out. Don't pretend that this is company. We're nothing alike."

"Aren't we, wildcat? The only difference between you and me, is that I've been living in the dark a lot longer than you have. You're still afraid of it. You still think that darkness equates to evil, and that all that's good resides in the light. But you don't belong in the light."

"Why? Because I'm not a paladin? Because I've done questionable things in the past?"

"No," he said, leaning forward and placing both hands on the wall beside her head, so that she couldn't escape either way without touching him. "Because the light is a horrible thing that highlights every flaw and imperfection that a person has, because compared to the light, everything else is just dull. And because some people can only shine brightly in the darkness."

"Have you been drinking?" she asked with a laugh.

"No. Sal took all the alcohol. Khelgar even donated his private stash. I already checked." She narrowed her eyes at him; he'd just reminded her of his absence in the courtyard.

"Why weren't you down there helping out, like everybody else? I'm sure your knowledge and expertise would have come in useful. You were able to take my pain away, after all."

"Oh, I don't do that for just anybody," he said with a grin, pushing himself away from the wall. She felt her body relax instantly, the tension she hadn't known was there disappearing. "Besides, I've been helping out here."

"In what way?" she asked cautiously. Sometimes, what Bishop thought of as 'help' was wildly different from anybody else's definition of the word.

"I regularly checked your room. If I was the Kin--"

"Ah!" she said, raising her hand.

"...the Guardian," he amended, "this would have been a perfect time to send another nightly visitor. You away, everybody in the Keep down in the courtyard, nobody guarding the walls or your room, that golem on body-duty. Your room's free of undead, by the way. And you're welcome."

"Thank you," she said grudgingly. It was, she had to admit, something she hadn't thought of.

"I've also made you something," he said with a small, secretive smile that she didn't like one bit.

"What is it?"

"Come with me," he said, and stepped backwards into intangible pool of darkness.

For a moment, she didn't move. Whatever he'd done, it couldn't be good. She didn't have to go. She should just go back to the entrance hall, light the fire, and get a new candle from the store cupboard. In fact, the best thing for her to do was to go around lighting all the fires, candles and torches in the Keep. Then everybody else, returning from the courtyard, wouldn't have to fumble around in the darkness as she did.

But on the other hand... her heart was racing, pumping adrenaline through her body with every beat. For the first time all night, she felt alive. For the first time all night, she wasn't living in some bad dream. She wasn't pretending to be strong. She wasn't doing the right thing because everybody else both expected and needed her to do it. This was how she'd felt in the past, when she performed her music. It was how she felt when she fought with the Sword in her hand. How she'd felt when she was with Valear...

The thought made her feel dizzy and nauseous. Comparing what she and Valear had shared to these stupid games she played with Bishop... they were nothing alike! She was an idiot to have let it go this far. She should have listened to Lucas. Why hadn't she listened to him? He was always looking out for her. He wanted what was best for her. She'd just enjoyed being challenged too much to put a stop to it. Well, she would just put a stop to it right now. She didn't need Bishop to make her feel alive. She didn't need Valear to make her feel alive, or her music either. She didn't need the Sword to make her... no, she couldn't finish that sentence. The Sword was part of her soul. The Sword belonged to her, and vice versa. The Sword was an entirely different matter.

No, this was foolish. The last time she'd followed Bishop into darkness, he'd led her through a forest and it had ended with her torturing someone. It was a tarnish on her soul that would be there forever. If she followed him into darkness again, there was no telling what she'd end up doing this time. Probably something she'd regret even more.

"If you don't want to come..." he said, letting his sentence trail off. It was like being doused in cold water; his words washed away all objections, and she stepped forward into the shadows. Partially because she couldn't refuse a challenge. Partially because she could feel her heart beating in her chest, telling her she was alive, telling her this was more real than anything that had happened tonight.

Within a few paces, she could no longer see anything at all. She could hear her own breaths, rapid and shallow, and she could smell must on the tapestries hanging along the walls, and sweat from her own body, but she couldn't sense nobody else nearby. She took a deep, steadying breath, trying to slow her racing heart.

"I can't see anything," she said, trying not to sound afraid. She lifted her left hand, to caress the hilt of the Sword; it was getting agitated, picking up on her own spiking fear. She almost squealed when a hand plucked at the sleeve of her shirt, but caught herself just in time, managing to turn it into a feigned cough.

"This way," he said, pulling her along by her sleeve. She let her feet move, slowly at first, because she was worried about tripping.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere more private."

"Why?" she said, stopping still so that her sleeve slipped from his fingers. "What's wrong with right here? This private enough, isn't it? I thought you liked the dark." As she spoke, she turned her head, trying to hear movement, to discern his location. If he was taking her somewhere to attack her, he'd want no witnesses. She had to be on guard. She could, of course, simply flood the whole corridor with dragon-fire... but he had to know that. He had to know that wherever she went with him, he would have to take her by surprise in order to get the better of her. He'd need one hell of a distraction.

"I told you, I made you something. But it's not here."

"Where is it?"

"Close by. Now, are you going to come along, or should I go and fetch someone to rescue you from a bit of darkness?"

"I don't trust you," she said, getting it out in the open.

"You'd be an idiot if you did." He sounded amused. Amused!

"How long will it take to get to... this place where the thing is?"

"That depends on how fast you walk, and how many times you stop to tell me how much you don't trust me. Shall we go, or would you like to talk about other people you don't trust?"

"Fine. Let's go," she said, holding out her hand. He took it, and led her onwards.

As they walked, she tried to map out where they were going. She was fairly sure she was passing around the back of the kitchen now, but she couldn't be sure. They might just as easily be walking down a corridor beside the library. As they walked, she was conscious of his hand, warm in hers. Part of her wished he'd go back to tugging on her sleeve, but it also reminded her of the time they'd danced to a song Grobnar had once played, what seemed like a life-time ago. She'd passed out from exhaustion during that dance. Even back then, being near Bishop had made her mind seem clearer, made her senses more alert and her body tense.

Suddenly, up ahead, she saw a flicker of light, and when they turned a corner she found herself staring at a candle, and had to shield her eyes from the light. She knew, now, where they were; they _were_ behind the back of the kitchen, standing beside a stairwell that led up to the second floor of the Keep. She'd only been up there a few times; it was where the servants lived, and above them were Greycloak quarters, and above that, store rooms and an armoury.

Now in the light again, she pulled her fingers from his grasp, expecting him to object. But he simply stepped into the stairwell and began to climb, so she followed him. After a minute of climbing, it became obvious why he hadn't objected; the light of the candle died away, and she was once again plunged into darkness. She stopped and waited for him to take her hand, to guide her, before they set off again. From above came more light, and she realised another candle was lit at the entrance to the second floor. Then she really _looked_ at the candle, and saw that it had only melted by a quarter of its length.

"You planned this," she accused. "You put these candles here and lit them."

"Of course. Even I can't see in absolute darkness. Everybody needs a bit of light to see by."

"Is that what all this is about?" she asked, stopping again and wrenching her hand from his. "You feed me some line about living in darkness then bring me up here to prove some stupid point?"

"No, but now you mention it, that was a good idea. I should have done that. Would have made me seem smart, eh?"

"Are we nearly there?"

"Nearly. Changed your mind again?"

"No," she said, and held out her hand again.

They climbed up three more flights of stairs, past three more candles, and where there should have been another candle, there was darkness instead. As she climbed, she suddenly heard a thud above her, and Bishop swore.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Banged my head. Didn't think we were here yet. You were distracting me."

"If there's something to bang your head on, why didn't you put a candle here?"

"Because of this," he said, and she heard something shift above her. Then wind rushed into the stairwell, gusting through the gaps in her clothes, chilling her skin which broke into goosebumps. "Come on," he said, grabbing her hand and all but pulling her up behind him.

For a moment, she panicked, then her feet hit solid ground, and soft light flooded her vision. She looked towards the light, and saw a sliver of the red sun peeking over the horizon. It was dawn, she realised, and a red sun in the morning was a bad omen. It symbolised blood and death. Then, she heard a keening sound, interspersed with a shrill whistling. It was an eerie, almost otherworldly noise, and her skin went cold for another reason. She turned towards the source of the sound, and felt her heart skip a beat as she stared open-mouthed at what was in front of her.

It was a stone pillar, a little taller than she was, with three large holes bored into it. Hanging from the top of one of the holes was a length of silver wire, with several feathers attached to the end. From the top of the second hole was a small wooden wind-chime suspended a knotted rope. From the top of the bottom hole were several shells hanging side by side, so that they banged against each other as the wind blew them. Below the three large holes, smaller holes of differing sizes had been drilled, and it was these holes, which the wind was blowing through, that created the eerie whistling noises.

"You... did this?" she asked, turning to face Bishop. For once in her life, she was speechless.

"Well, the middle bits. That girl from Amn provided the stone, and Veedle and his people put the holes in it."

"How did you know how to make this?"

"The library is full of books," he shrugged.

"But... why? You're not religious. You don't care about gods. Why build a shrine to Shaundakul?"

"Why not? I hear gods get pissed off when their temples and shrines are destroyed. Maybe the Ki... the Guardian... will think twice about attacking this place now. Or maybe destroying this place will earn him Shaundakul's enmity. Can't hurt to have a god on your side, right?"

"But you said you made this for me," she said with a frown.

"Well, yeah. I built it, but I don't really give a damn. You're the one who'll have to worship at it, otherwise it's pretty meaningless, right?"

"I should have thought of this myself," she sighed. "I should have built him a shrine. I've been dozens of places where I could have built shrines or cairns for him, but I didn't. It just never crossed my mind. What do these mean?" she asked, gesturing to the objects hanging from each large hole.

"Sky," he said, pointing at the feathers, "forest," he pointed at the wooden wind-chime, "and sea," he said, flicking one of the shells so that it banged against its neighbours.

"Was that in the book too?"

"No, that was my idea. It's supposed to be symbolic, or whatever."

She nodded, and walked to the nearest wall to look down on the courtyard. _Symbolic_. Why had she never thought of doing something like this? She still said her prayers to Shaundakul every morning, but she'd always thought that had been enough. The irony was, it had taken Bishop, of all people, to show her that she could have been doing so much _more_.

Below, in the courtyard, a few people were still milling around. From what she could make out, it seemed Sal was packing away the soup and bread, though a few Greycloaks were still finishing their drinks. She thought she could make out Neeshka and Elanee, clearing away bloodied bandages and dressings, and the unmistakable form of Mister Pointy laid a final body down beside the training grounds. Bishop stepped beside her, and looked down on the scene for a moment.

"You've got blood on your hands," he said at last.

She looked down at her hands, and saw he was right. Not all of the blood she'd been covered with while tending wounds had washed off, and it looked even worse in the red morning sunlight, as if she'd been bathing in the stuff.

"We've all got blood on our hands," she said. "Just because you can't always see it, doesn't mean it isn't there. And by the end of this war, I'm going to have a lot more on my hands."

"You're worried about the coming battle."

"Of course I'm worried! People down there died because Nasher told them to fight. Soon, I'm going to have to ask people to fight for me. To die for me. Haven't enough people died already? I don't want people to die for me. I don't want to be a leader. I don't want to have to look at the faces of women and children and tell them that their husbands, sons, brothers and fathers died because I told them to." He nodded thoughtfully, and turned back towards the stairwell. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"To bed. You're not the only one who's been up all night, you know. I'll leave the candles lit for you."

And with that, he was gone, disappearing into the dark hole that was the stairwell. She blinked, expecting him to reappear, but he didn't. She even counted to fifty, just to make sure time was passing as it ought to. When it was obvious she'd be left alone, she wandered back to the shrine and sank down onto the floor in front of it. She was so confused. Not just about Bishop, but about Nasher, the Guardian, Shaundakul... everything. Why couldn't her life make sense for once? Why couldn't things be simple for a change?

But the answers were not forthcoming, from neither Shaundakul, nor her own internal voices. So she simply sat in front of the shrine as the red sun rose in the east, and pondered what everything meant.


	99. The things you leave behind

_99. The things you leave behind_

"Kail! Kail, wake up!"

The persistent voice and even more persistent shaking dragged Kail from deep, dreamless sleep, and she opened her eyes to see Neeshka staring down at her. She groaned, and tried to roll over and bury her head beneath her pillow, but the tiefling had a firm grip on her shoulders.

"What time is it?" she croaked.

"About eleven."

"Eleven?! I've had a maximum of three hours' sleep. Why are you waking me?"

"Because Nasher wants to talk to you."

"Did he look pissed off?"

"A bit, yeah."

"Then he can wait," she said, pulling her quilt above her head.

"But it sounded important."

"Everything Nasher says sounds important," she said, knowing that her voice was muffled. "He could be talking about sewer systems and it'd sound important."

"I get the feeling that either you'll go to him or he'll have the Nine drag you in to see him. Wouldn't you rather see him on your terms, fully dressed, and not with all that messy bed-hair?"

"Ugh. I hate you."

"No you don't, but I forgive you for saying it. Why don't you get dressed, see what Nasher has to say, and then we can get some breakfast from Sal?"

"Alright," she said, pushing her covers off her body and shivering in the mid-morning chill. "How's everybody coping today?"

"Better than last night, but not by much," said Neeshka as Kail stepped behind the mahogany screen and began to dress. "How are you feeling? I didn't see you after you left the courtyard. I thought you'd gone straight to bed, so how come you only got three hours' sleep?"

"I had a lot to think about," she replied evasively. It wasn't that she didn't trust Neeshka, but she wasn't ready to talk about the previous night yet. It was easy to tell Bishop that she didn't want to have to order people to fight and die for her, because he didn't care. But Neeshka would have been sympathetic and supportive, and Kail would have felt bad for burdening her with the knowledge. Sympathy and support would not be able to help her now, and she couldn't allow herself to be weak enough to rely on somebody who would offer it.

Plus, her thoughts had gone to disturbing places whilst she'd been sitting in front of the shrine, contemplating life in general and trying to figure out where she fit into all of it. Bishop's words about light and dark had been foremost in her mind, and she tried to consider her own position rationally and logically. He was right, she'd realised, about one thing; she didn't belong in the light. But she would never live in darkness. She would never give her soul over to it, because the darkness within her was darker than anything most people could even perceive.

At first, she'd been angry at his suggestion that she belonged in darkness. It was as if he wanted her to give in to the taint of her blood, even though he couldn't possibly know about it. And she was afraid that if she let him speak of such things, if she let herself be swayed by his words, the monster within her would use the opportunity to seize control. Then she realised she hadn't had any such moments like that when she was around Bishop. Certain people could elicit the anger from her; Qara, most of all, and she had once had to fight the overwhelming urge to kill the sorceress. The anger came also at times when she was speaking to Casavir; a cold fury that made her want to lash out at him, simply because of who he was. More recently, Ammon and Zhjaeve had been the focus of that same anger, for taking her Sword from her.

She'd never experienced that around Bishop. Oh, she'd had little flashes of anger, but it wasn't the same thing. It wasn't the murderous rage that threatened to overwhelm her. Mostly, she felt on her guard around him. Often quite afraid, at times, particularly when he invaded her personal space without a care in the world. It was almost as if that proximity pushed everything else away. But why? There were plenty of people she never felt angry around; Neeshka, for example. Khelgar, Sand, Grobnar, even Kana. But around those people, she never felt like anything except Kail Farlong. Around those people, she was always sure of herself, of who she was. She was always in control. In the past, she'd only ever lost control of herself whenever she accidentally entered a berserker rage, and though she'd now mastered herself enough to prevent that from happening, she could still remember how it felt.

It was, simply put, intoxicating. It was a brief period of a rush of emotions, of losing herself in something bigger than herself, of giving herself up to the intensity of pure emotion, and for those brief moments, it was as if she understood everything... it was like a strange sort of drug, one with a terrible come-down after the effects wore off. Now, without her knowing it, she'd found an alternative. Now that she didn't occasionally go berserk anymore, now that she had gained control over herself, the only thing that affected her was a lack of certainty. The only person who offered that was Bishop. He was the only one who pushed her, challenged her, and kept her constantly guessing. Whenever he threatened her or got too close to her, it put her out of her comfort zone, out of control, forcing her body to react in the only way it knew how; by releasing all sorts of happy fun chemicals which gave her a rush and made her feel oddly alive. Somehow, that feeling was enough to push away everything else, including the Bhaalspawn taint in her blood. It was odd that when she felt most vulnerable was probably the only time she was truly safe from herself.

She was fairly sure that her reasoning about the whole matter was sound. It had taken her hours to come up with the theory, and the more she thought about it, the more she was sure she was right. In a way, it was a relief. She'd been starting to worry that she might have actual _feelings_ for Bishop. Quite obviously, this couldn't be true. The man was a pig, which was actually an insult to pigs, because they were intelligent and had nice personalities, or so Lewy Jones had once told her. Pigs were also very clean, which again, comparing them to Bishop, was in insult. Only in her strangely realistic dreams, in which she was part of Karnwyr and Bishop's pack, was he somebody she might have been happy with. But those were just dreams, and further proof that her mind was a very disturbing place.

The revelation of _why_ Bishop made her feel so alive was a relief, but it also brought some negatives with it. Sooner or later, she would cease to feel threatened by him, and she would lose that fear. Or maybe he'd leave. Either way, the end result would be the same; she'd be back to constantly warring with her own tainted blood, with nothing to keep her in check. Of course, she could always find somebody else to threaten her. The realm was full of miscreants and criminals, after all... but the idea just didn't appeal to her. She'd tried to imagine somebody else invading her personal space, somebody else running their strong hands along her exposed neck, just to prove that they could. Somebody else leaning in close to whisper something mildly threatening in her ear, sending shivers up her spine. Somebody else leading her by the hand into darkness. At first she'd thought of one of her old childhood antagonists doing all those things, and had come up with Ward Mossfeld. She'd only been able to get as far as him touching her neck before she'd mentally kneed him in the groin out of disgust. Then she tried imagining up her own threatening person; a tall half orc with a scarred face and large canine teeth. That one had simply ended with her mentally laughing and walking away, much to the surprise of the half-orc, who ceased to mentally exist a few seconds later.

In the end, she'd failed to come up with a suitable alternative, and had given up and gone to bed. But her theorising had done one thing; it had kept her from thinking about what she _really_ didn't want to think about; the guilt she felt over Shaundakul's shrine. She felt as if she'd failed her god by not doing this herself. It wasn't Bishop's fault. It wasn't Calindra's, or Veedles -- it was hers. She'd been worshipping Shaundakul since she'd first met Valear, though granted, she'd only worshipped him to begin with because Valear did. But never once had she built a shrine to him. Knowing that he preferred small shrines in remote places to temples in cities, she had never even considered building one herself. How could she have been so selfish, after all the advice Shaundakul had given her on the day she'd left the Mere?

"What's taking so long?" asked Neeshka impatiently. "Have you fallen asleep back there?"

Kail startled, and realised she'd stopped in the middle of dressing to think about her early-morning musings. With a shake of her head she continued pulling on her trousers.

"Sorry," she said guiltily, not even bothering to offer an excuse.

"Don't worry about it. I wouldn't hurry to see Nasher either."

Fully dressed, she stepped out from behind the screen and belted the Sword at her waist. Her other weapons followed, and a few minutes later she walked side by side with Neeshka down the corridor. Lord Nasher and the Nine had been housed in the east wing, but she only made it as far as the library before she was cornered.

"Ah, Captain!" said Aldanon brightly. He appeared from the library, and she noticed his robe had been fastened up unevenly, the buttons not meeting their intended holes, so it looked like he was leaning to one side as he walked. "I don't suppose you've seen Ammon Jerro around, have you? I've looked everywhere, but I can't find him."

"No, I've just got up. Why? What do you want with Ammon?"

"I just needed his advice on translating a piece of the Tome of Iltkazar. If you see him, will you let him know I need him?"

"Yes, of course. Have you checked the cellar? That's where he usually stays."

"Oh my, yes, that was the first place I checked. I even asked your giant spider - remarkable specimen, by the way! - but it didn't know where Ammon has gone either."

"Don't worry, I'll find him for you," she said, patting him reassuringly on the arm. "Just do what you can with the Tome in his absence, okay?"

"Yes, of course," he replied, and ambled back to the library.

"Have _you_ seen Ammon today?" she asked Neeshka as they passed by the library towards the entrance hall.

"Nope, but it's not like I actively look for him. He never has anything worth stealing, and he never sees the funny side of it when he catches me checking his pockets. I wouldn't worry about it, you know what he's like, he's probably off doing esoteric warlock stuff that involves making unholy pacts with devils and demons."

"Maybe. But I think I'd rather know where he is. I'm going to look for him right away."

"And this has nothing to do with you not wanting to face Nasher, of course."

She didn't reply. It was true, she had no desire to rush to Nasher's side and be lectured about disobeying his orders and leaving the Keep, but she also had a niggling feeling about Ammon. It couldn't be mere coincidence that following Neverwinter's defeat by the shadow army, Ammon should disappear. She hurried along the corridor and found Kana in the entrance hall, in quiet discussion with Katriona, Bevil and Jalboun.

"Kana!" she called, and the woman looked up at her arrival. "Have you seen Ammon recently?"

"No Captain, I assumed he was down in the dungeon."

"Old scar-face left about an hour ago," said Bishop, entering the hall via the front door. "On horse-back, too. Looked like he was in a hurry."

"Ammon _left_ and you didn't stop him?" she asked in disbelief.

"I thought you'd finally told him to shove off. None of your attentive Greycloaks tried to stop him either, you know."

"Why would I tell him to leave when he's the only other person who has a piece of the Illefarn Ritual?"

"I'm sure you'd do exactly that if he tried to take your Sword again."

"Can you track him?" she sighed.

"Can I? Of course. Will I? That's an entirely different matter." She glared at him. "Alright. Beats sitting around in the place waiting for the undead to swarm it."

"Kana, please could you find Elanee, Casavir and Qara and ask them to meet me at the stables as soon as possible? Also, tell Lord Nasher that I'll have to delay our meeting. You're in charge while I'm gone."

She swept out of the Keep without waiting for Kana to confirm her orders, and Neeshka and Bishop followed her. With any luck, she could catch Ammon before he got too far... and then she would be having _very_ strong words with him.

"I don't think this is such a good idea, Kail," said Neeshka worriedly. "It's not safe for you to be wandering around out there with undead roaming the countryside."

"If it's not safe for me then it's definitely not safe for Ammon," she replied firmly.

"Then it is true," said Zhjaeve, approaching from the direction of the inn. "Ammon Jerro is nowhere to be found?"

"That's right."

"Know that I wish to go with you."

"No. We need Ammon back, because he has part of the Illefarn Ritual, but we also need you here, because you and he are the only ones who can read the names on the Luskan scroll. Should the Reavers attack the Keep while I'm gone, you need to be here to read those names and weaken them."

"Very well. But you must take care."

"I'm always careful," she assured the githzerai.

At the stable, she ordered the grooms to saddle Wind and four other horses. Bishop immediately took one of the blacks for himself, and in just a few minutes' time they were leading the horses out into the courtyard. Elanee and Casavir arrived from the Keep, with Qara behind them yawning lazily.

"What's all this about?" said the sorceress.

"Ammon's left the Keep, and we're going to bring him back," said Kail, putting her foot into Wind's stirrup and hauling herself into the saddle. It was a measure of how tired he was that he didn't frisk at her touch.

"What? I hate riding. Horses smell bad. Why can't you take Sand instead? I know how much you two love going off on adventures together."

"One, because Sand has done enough over the past few days. He needs to rest and enter reverie, to regain his strength. Two, because I suspect bringing Ammon back won't be easy. He might resist, or he might be being followed by the shadow army, in which case we'll be needing your power to fight them. And three, because I said so. Now get into a saddle or I'll have a groom lift you into one."

Qara grumbled under her breath, but selected the most docile-looking horse, a bay mare, and after much huffing and puffing, finally managed to mount. Elanee, Bishop and Casavir each mounted their horses easily, and Kail wheeled Wind around as the Keep's portcullis began to rise. She gestured for Bishop to take the lead; he couldn't track from behind, after all.

"Good luck, and hurry back!" Neeshka called after them.

They left the Keep at a walk, increasing their pace to a trot once the horses were warmed up. For an hour they alternated between walking and trotting, and Kail's heart began to sink when she realised she was taking the exact same route as she had the night before. Ammon was heading straight for Highcliff. Straight for where the shadow army lay in waiting.

"We need to pick up the pace," she called to Bishop. "We need to catch up to him before he reaches Highcliff."

"The horses are tired, Kail," said Elanee from behind. "Over the past few days they've been to the Ironfist Clanhold and back, and then out to meet Neverwinter's retreating army and back. They don't have the energy to travel at speed for very long."

"I know. That's why I brought you. I want you to heal away their aches and their tiredness."

"That will only work for so long. Eventually they'll succumb to exhaustion."

"It will work for long enough. Now, please heal them."

They all stopped while Elanee dismounted and went around every horse, laying her hands on them as she cast her healing spells. When she was done, she mounted her own refreshed horse, and they set off at a canter. Kail lost track of how long they pushed the horses for. The scenery seemed to fly by, as thick forest slowly changed into light woods and eventually low plains. She was so certain Ammon was heading for Highcliff, that when Bishop pulled his horse to a stop suddenly, she wasn't prepared for it, and passed him by a few paces before she could slow Wind.

"What is it?" she asked, allowing her horse to walk as it panted heavily.

"He's changed direction," said Bishop. His eyes were scanning the ground.

"What? Are you sure?"

"Certain. He's veering more towards the south-east now. I don't know why... there's nothing out that way except farmland."

"I know where he's going," she said as Casavir, Elanee and Qara caught up with them. "He's going to Shandra's farm. It's the only place he _could_ be going."

"Well, now that we've established he's not going to single-handedly try taking on the undead army, do you think we can walk the horses for a while?" asked Elanee. "They're exhausted, and I know how they feel."

She nodded, and pushed Wind forward into a comfortable walking pace, letting him stretch his head and neck down. The niggling sense of urgency was less, now, than it had been. She was no longer afraid that Ammon was going to throw his life away in some vain effort to destroy the enemy's forces, but she wouldn't be able to fully relax until she saw Ammon safe and sound.

"I wonder what Ammon wants at Shandra's farm," Elanee mused.

"Perhaps he wishes to seek atonement for his sins," suggested Casavir.

"Right," said Bishop. "Because he's an atonement kinda guy. I just see him riddled with guilt every time I look at him."

"Maybe he knows how much we all love tramping around dirty farms," said Qara sullenly.

"It doesn't matter," said Kail. "The fact is, he should have known better. He goes off on me about being irresponsible with the Sword when I use it to save people's lives, and the next minute he's running off into the heart of bloody darkness without even spending a moment to explain his actions."

"Would you like me to talk to him for you? I might be able to appeal to him to return peacefully," said Casavir.

"No, that wouldn't work, he doesn't like you."

"Ammon doesn't seem to like anyone very much," said Elanee wryly. Kail thought about the matter for a moment.

"I think he likes Aldanon. And maybe Sand. Or at least, he complains less about them than he does about anybody else. I suppose as far as Ammon's concerned, that's akin to liking someone."

"It is not honourable to speak ill of people when they are not around to defend themselves," said Casavir.

"We've all heard 'honour lecture number four' at least twice already, paladin," said Bishop. "Why don't you sing us a new song?"

"Both of you be quiet," Kail hissed. "In case you've forgotten, there's an army of undead camped only a couple of miles from here. I'd rather not draw attention to ourselves right now."

They continued in silence, the only sound that of their horses hooves thudding dully on the grass as they passed through abandoned fields and pastures. Once, these fields would have been filled with sheep and cattle. The sporadic farmsteads would have been a hub of life; chickens, cockerels, pigs, goats, dogs, men and women with their children... now, the air was as still and as cold as death. No wild birds sang to the cold morning sun. No squirrels leapt from tree to tree, no stoats hunted through the underbrush, no rats scavenged for scraps of left-over fodder. Even the trees looked as if they wanted to be elsewhere.

"This place has really gone down-hill," said Qara.

"Yes, an army of undead poisoning the land with their unnatural taint will tend to do that, Qara," said Elanee.

"I see Shandra's farm," said Casavir, pointing to a burnt roof in the distance.

"And Ammon Jerro's trail leads right to it," said Bishop.

"Let's go," she said, pushing Wind to a trot.

When they reached the outskirts of Shandra's farm, Kail felt familiar feeling pass through her body, like a resonance with a source of nearby evil. Her fingers tightened around her reins as she tried to fight the rising darkness she felt within herself. She took a deep breath, and thought she could even taste the evil on her tongue; it tasted like blood, and she had to resist the urge to spit.

The trees gave way to open fields, and she saw Ammon Jerro standing not far away. He wasn't alone; in front of him, standing between Ammon and the ruins of the farmstead, was a tall, winged fiend that she recognised as one of the former inmates of Jerro's Haven.

"You were a fool to come back here, Jerro," said the fire-wreathed fiend. "I knew you would return one day, and I have been waiting for you. Here, in the home of the kin you killed with your own hands, you will find your death."

"I have no time for you, Koraboros," said Ammon angrily. "Begone, or you'll regret crossing my path today."

"I think not, little human. You see, I know of your downfall. I know you have been stripped of almost all your power. You are no longer a threat to me, but I am very much a threat to you."

"He's got a point, Ammon," said Kail, dismounting and letting Wind wander back to the tree line. "You shouldn't have come out here alone."

"What are _you_ doing here?" asked Ammon, his eyes narrowing at the sight of her. Koraboros, on the other hand, seemed delighted to see her.

"Ah, the others from your Haven, how wonderful," he purred. "Now I can kill you all together. I do hate leaving loose ends behind me."

Several things happened at once. Two horned devils materialised out of thin air, and rushed towards Ammon Jerro, who had begun casting a spell of his own. Casavir rushed forward to intercept one of them, and Kail drew the Sword, advancing on the other. Bolts of lightning tore down from the cloudless sky, scorching the ground around Koraboros, and bolts of fire flew through the air, impacting the fiend's body as arrows tore through its wings. From nearby, she could hear the horses screaming in fear as a stray ball of fire impacted the trees, setting it alight.

She had fought so many giants and fiends and undead monstrosities now that her opponent provided very little challenge. Within five slashes of the blade, the fiend was lying dead at her feet, and she turned her attention to Koraboros. The combined magical onslaught of Qara and Elanee seemed to have little effect on him. In fact, if anything, it seemed to be making him angrier. He growled, and stalked over to where Casavir was despatching the second horned devil. Kicking out with his huge, taloned foot, he caught the paladin in the side and sent him flying through the air.

"No!" cried Elanee, as Koraboros advanced on him again. Suddenly, the ground beneath Elanee's feet began to ripple outwards in waves. Kail lost her balance, and fell to her knees, as did everyone else, including Koraboros.

She knew this was her only chance. As the ground continued to roll in waves like the sea beneath her, she fought to regain an upright position. The ground began to heave more violently as she pushed herself forward, fighting the rocking motion, dodging clods of loose earth which were flying up from the ground. A few paces away, she saw Koraboros, too, trying to right himself, and she took a chance. When the next wave of rolling earth passed, she sprinted and jumped with the Sword held high above her head, and as gravity brought her back down to the ground, she plunged the Sword as far as possible into the devil's back.

His wings flapped frantically as he tried to dislodge her, but she hung on to the blade, ignoring the protesting aches in her arms. The weight of her body began to drag the Sword down, though it remained in Koraboros' back, cutting deeper and deeper into him as he flailed futilely. She closed her eyes when blood began to pour over her from the long gash she had opened up in his body, and finally, the blood did what he had not been able to do; it ran over her hands, causing them to slip. She lost her grip on the Sword and fell six feet to the ground, and there she lay, covered in blood and winded, as Koraboros toppled forward and fell silent at last.

For several minutes she lay there, willing her body to breathe normally, which at last it did. She stopped gasping for air and wiped her face with her sleeve, though it didn't so much remove the blood as smear it around a lot. When she was finally able to push herself into a sitting position, she saw Elanee crouching over the prone form of Casavir, casting a healing spell on him, Qara was watching them with a bored expression on her face, Ammon was walking around the burnt-out shell of Shandra's former home, and Bishop was nowhere in sight.

Regretting not bringing along Neeshka, who would at least have been concerned about her safety, she pushed herself to her feet and tottered unsteadily to where her Sword was sticking out of the back of the dead Koraboros. She grasped it with both hands and pulled it free. It was, she realised with disgust, absolutely covered in blood. But then again, so was she. _Before this war is over, I'm going to have a lot more blood on my hands._ She laughed aloud at the echo of her thoughts from earlier in the morning, and everybody turned to look at her in surprise.

"How's Casavir?" she asked, joining Elanee.

"I am fine," he said impatiently, trying to stand up.

"You are not fine, you have broken ribs," said the elf, gesturing to the huge dent in his armour. "This is useless, now."

She left them arguing and joined Ammon in his external examination of the building.

"You shouldn't have come here," he said, when he noticed her beside him.

"Right. I was just going to let you wander around on your own with that piece of the Illefarn Ritual in your head. And if you managed to get yourself killed, I'm sure it would have been fine, and I'd still be able to defeat the Guardian without that vital Ritual."

"I concede that point. Your sarcasm, however, is entirely unwarranted."

"So now we know what I'm doing here, what are you doing here? You've had plenty of time to visit this place. Why now?"

"I left something here, a long time ago. Something that will help us in our war. I've come to retrieve it."

"Why didn't you come back for it sooner? Say, when the area was safe?"

"I'd hoped to avoid coming here at all. After Nasher and his army were defeated, I realised our task would be more difficult than I had first thought. Though you now wield the Sword of Gith, I am not without weapons of my own. I concealed such a weapon here before I set out on my quest to locate the Sword, in case I was unsuccessful."

"That was... very foresighted of you," she admittedly grudgingly. And it was another example of something she wouldn't have thought of doing herself. She thought she'd been doing well. She'd been thinking ahead. Sometimes days ahead, sometimes even weeks ahead. But Ammon Jerro had thought _years_ ahead, and to a being as old and powerful as the Guardian, thinking _centuries_ ahead was probably something it did all the time.

"I'm glad you approve. Ah, here it is." He made a gesture beside a scorched wall, and a heavy wooden chest appeared from nowhere, as if an invisibility spell had been lifted from it.

"How did that chest remain intact while the rest of the building burnt down?" she asked.

"It wasn't entirely here, rather like your Sword when Zhjaeve and I caged it away behind a magical field. It was the only way to keep its contents safe, you see." He lifted the lid on the chest and pulled out a warmace.

"That's your weapon?"

"It's more powerful than it looks. Appearances can be deceiving... I thought you, of all people, would understand that."

"Why me?"

"Because by rights, you should be dead. And yet despite everything that has happened to you, you are still very much alive. Like this weapon, you are stronger than your outward appearance suggests."

"Thanks. I, uh, think."

"It was not intended as flattery, simply a statement of truth. Now, if you're finished here, we should leave. This conflict cannot have gone unnoticed by the nearby army of undead."

"If _I'm_ finished here?" she spluttered as he walked towards the rest of the group. Then he stopped by the body of Koraboros and the two devils. "We should burn them," he said.

"You want to give funeral rites to _devils_?"

"No, I want to destroy the corpses so the shadow priests cannot raise them for their own army."

She nodded, and turned to the bodies, holding out her hands and focusing her will. Fire rushed from the tips of her fingers and consumed all three bodies. It was an inferno that would rage for some time, burning even the bones. By the time she and Ammon reached the others, Casavir was on his feet, protesting the fact that Elanee was holding onto him as if she alone was keeping him standing, and Bishop had rejoined the group.

"Where've you been?" she asked, trying to keep the snippiness she felt from her voice. He always seemed to conveniently disappear when his help might be required.

"Catching the horses before they could get too far away," he shrugged. "I tethered them just inside the forest."

"Oh," she said, and mentally kicked herself.

"I find it interesting," said Qara casually, "that Elanee's idea of saving the man she loves from certain death is to try to kill the rest of us by burying us in the earth."

"That was an accident!" Elanee said hotly, her honey-brown skin blushing decidedly pink. "You understand the concept of 'accident', don't you Qara? It's what happens every time you open your mouth."

"We don't have time for this," said Ammon, stalking into the forest. Kail followed him, leaving everybody else to either follow her or stand around arguing. In the end, they chose the former, and just a few moments later they'd mounted and departed, and stillness returned to the dead farmland.

o - o - o - o - o

Though the sun was shining brightly, the weather was cold, and Qara was feeling miserable as usual. Travelling with Kail was never fun, even at the best of times, and the only good thing about this entire trip was the absence of that stupid little gnome. Out here, at least, she didn't have to listen to his irritating voice and his incessant prattling.

There were times when she had considered returning to the Academy. The students there were haughty but at least they didn't ignore her. Even when they were turning their noses up at her and insulting her, it was because they were secretly afraid and jealous of her. Afraid because of the power she had, more power than they could ever imagine wielding, and jealous of the same. Only two things had kept her from returning to Neverwinter.

The first was the argument she'd had with her father on the day she'd left, the day she'd almost torched the Flagon. He'd accused her of using magic irresponsibly and without care for the safety of others. She'd accused him of playing favourites with some of the other students. Imagine, favouring others above his own daughter! Then, he and the other teachers had expelled her, as if it was all her fault that she was more powerful than them!

The second reason, and one that was infinitely more important, was because of her dreams. Recently, her dreams had changed in nature. Where before they had been unfocused things which usually involved her doing mundane dream-type stuff, they were now much clearer, and she was always able to remember them when she woke. She dreamt of herself, powerful and feared, as the leader of Crossroad Keep. Sometimes she dreamt of herself as the ruler of Neverwinter, Luskan, and the whole of the north. In the dreams, Kail was sometimes dead, and sometimes her prisoner.

The land she ruled in her dreams was not like the land that existed now. It was darker, and possessed none of the things she hated. She lived in an ancient palace of stone where fires continually burned. Shadows did her bidding without question. Slaves built monuments to her, and for entertainment she forced all those who had ever opposed her to sing, dance and perform plays. Sometimes she allowed the shadows to sap their lives away little by little, and she laughed to hear them begging for mercy. But there was no mercy within her. These were the people who had disliked her, scorned her or slighted her, and now they were paying the price for their arrogance.

She knew that it was one of those shadow-dreams that Zhjaeve and Sand had tried to block, but she didn't care. She felt the King of Shadows presiding over her dreams, but she sensed from him approval at her power and strength. The King of Shadows would never try to hold her back, or tell her to play nice with everybody else. For some reason, the protection that Zhjaeve and Sand had set up around the Keep was no longer able to keep the King of Shadows out. Maybe the protection had weakened... or perhaps the King of Shadows was getting stronger. She was beginning to think that maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Qara jumped in fright, a guilty blush suffusing her cheeks. For a moment she feared her thoughts had been heard, and that Kail was remarking on them, but now she saw the woman staring at the Keep, a few hundred paces away.

No, not staring at the _Keep_, she realised, but at a figure standing on the road before it, blocking their way. It was a tall, blonde figure in shiny armour, who merely watched their group approach without surprise. It was that aasimar again.

"Why do you always show up when I'm tired and dirty?" asked Kail, sliding from her horse's back and giving the reins to Elanee. "It puts me at a disadvantage, you know."

"I know. But a warrior cannot pick and choose when to fight. Battle will come, and not when it is convenient for you."

"So you're here to fight me again?"

"Yes. One last time. If you defeat me, I will aid you in your own battle."

"And if you defeat me?"

"I will leave, and you shan't see me again."

"And I suppose this time, you won't be holding back at all?"

"No."

"Good. Neither will I."

The others dismounted and took a few steps forward, but Kail gestured for them to stay back. Maybe they thought Kail was going to be in need of healing soon. It was something Qara could only hope for. Honestly, why bother with all this stupid fighting anyway? It was pointless. It wasn't as if having another fighter on their side would make any difference, in the end. All of the soldiers, the Greycloaks, the Nine... their job was just to stand between the undead army and the people with real power. The people like her, who could actually make a difference in the war.

The fighting this time was much the same as it was last time, except instead of being covered in mud, Kail was covered in demon's blood. Or devil's blood. It didn't really make any difference. Swords were whirling around and clashing together, and everybody seemed to find it really fascinating. She yawned behind her hand, and wished that something more interesting would happen. A few minutes later she got her wish; the aasimar seemed to be overpowering Kail, who was stumbling more and more as the fight continued.

Qara felt a moment of hope when Kail's sword was wrenched from her grasp - perhaps the aasimar would do a proper job this time and finish her off. But then Kail kicked out at the woman's hand, and she too dropped her sword. Now they were reduced to fighting hand to hand, like common tavern brawlers. It really was quite embarrassing. You'd never catch _her_ fighting with someone like that. Not when she could burn somebody to cinders instead.

The fighting went on for a few minutes, until finally the balance changed. Kail managed to get one of her small throwing knives out of her bracer, and used it to draw blood from the aasimar, who seemed to take this as a sign of defeat. She held up her hands, ending the fight.

"I yield," said the blonde woman with a bow. "You have proven the more capable fighter."

"So you'll help me now?" Kail asked, panting as she recovered her sword.

"Yes, I will aid you and follow your command."

"For the moment, you can come back to the Keep with us. My officer, Kana, will want to speak to you about your previous experience, and I'm sure she'll have some tasks for you."

Qara stopped listening to the boring conversation that ensued about the Keep. As far as she was concerned, the Keep, and everyone in it, could go to the hells. It was no less than they deserved, for their poor treatment of her. And perhaps, when the Guardian's shadow army stormed this place, she'd finally get a chance to make some of her dreams come true.

o – o – o – o – o

Tired, aching, and covered in foul-smelling blood, Kail limped along the corridors of the Keep, towards the east wing. Upon their arrival at the Keep, Ammon had immediately gone to the library, to discuss things with Aldanon. Bishop had slunk off to the tavern, Qara had gone straight to the kitchen, and Casavir had been chivvied by Elanee up to their room; but only after he'd gone to speak to the armourer, to see about getting new armour to replace his damaged breastplate. For Kail, there was no reprieve. She still had work to do.

Nevalle was waiting for her outside Lord Nasher's room, and he opened the door without a word. Nasher himself was still bed-ridden, but he looked much healthier than he had done the night before. It seemed he was on the road to recovery.

"How are you feeling, Lord Nasher?" she asked, giving him a small bow.

"Well enough, for now," he said, eyeing the dried blood that covered a large portion of her body. "The Nine have told me what happened, after I lost consciousness. It seems I, and a great many of my men, owe you our lives."

"So you're not mad about me leaving the Keep?"

"Given the circumstances and the result... no. Rest assured, however, that had you died out there, I would be extremely displeased with you."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, unable to keep her mouth from quirking into a smile. "What do we do now?"

"Now, we do the only thing we can do. We wait. Waterdeep and the Lords' Alliance are sending troops to aid us, and we must make sure this Keep stands until they arrive. Should the Keep fall, so will Neverwinter, and the rest of the Sword Coast will surely follow. Now, Nevalle tells me you've done an admirable job of fortifying the area, and your men are well prepared for combat."

"We're as prepared as can be for a battle," she nodded. "I don't know how long we could withstand a siege, though. Few merchants will travel the High Road these days, and supply wagons are rare things. We do have some food stockpiled, but not enough to feed the additional Greycloaks you brought with you from Neverwinter."

"Something tells me we won't have to endure a siege," said Nevalle. "You siege a place when you want the inhabitants to surrender, and when you want to minimise your own losses. The King of Shadows doesn't want us to surrender... he wants to destroy us. He won't care about his own losses, because with every death inflicted upon us, he can create new minions to fight for him. I suspect they'll try to use their superior numbers to storm the Keep. They will come at night, when conditions favour them, and when our own people are feeling most vulnerable."

"Anybody who does not need to be here should be evacuated," said Nasher. "Your non-combat staff here inside the Keep, merchants who own shops in the courtyard, the children who live here, the farmers who work the outlying lands, and anybody who cannot fight. Send them back towards Neverwinter, so they can flee to Port Llast.

"Do you... do you think the shadow army will arrive soon?" she asked, her heart beating wildly in her chest even as she dreaded the answer. Lord Nasher looked over her for a moment, as if trying to decide how candid he should be.

"The King of Shadows won a great victory over us last night. It will know our troops have been demoralised by seeing their comrades slain. I suspect the army will push on throughout tonight, and then wait within the confines of the forests until night falls again. Meanwhile, the Shadow Priests will roam the countryside, looking for fresh bodies or old graves. Anything they can use to bolster their numbers, they will raise from the dead."

"While you were away this afternoon," said Nevalle, "refugees arrives from a nearby village called Leeves, along with a handful of Greycloaks who had the foresight to evacuate the place as soon as they heard about our defeat. We've already sent them on to Port Llast."

"I'll speak to Kana right away about sending everybody else away too," she confirmed.

"Good," said Nasher. "We'll speak more in the morning. Your githzerai said I need to rest, and you look like you could do with a long bath."

"Sleep well, Lord," she said with a bow before leaving him alone with Nevalle. Back in her own room, she found the servants already filling her bath-tub. With a pang of regret, she realised that when she sent them away, there would be no more hot baths. "Will you ask Kana to come here?" she asked one of the servants, as they finished filling the tub and began to leave.

"Of course, Captain," said the woman with a bow. Kail closed the door, stripped off, and climbed into to water/ It was wonderfully warm after the hours of riding in the cold wintry air, and she immediately felt her body begin to relax. A few minutes later Kana knocked on the door, and she called for her officer to enter.

"You sent for me, Captain?" the woman asked, no longer nonplussed about taking orders from somebody soaking in a bath.

"Yes, I'd like you to send all the civilians in the Keep away, first thing in the morning. They should head for Port Llast, with the rest of Neverwinter's people."

"I'll see to it personally. Some of them won't want to leave, though. Sal, and some of the merchants. And the children, of course..."

"Then it's your job to make them see sense. You'll have to make them leave, whether you talk them into it or force them out. If the shadow army manages to breach the walls of the Keep, I can't be worrying about the safety of civilians."

"I understand, Captain. Are there any other orders you want me to carry out?"

"Yes, please ask somebody to fetch me some food. I don't think I've actually eaten anything today, with one thing and another."

"Aye, Captain."

Kana bowed and left, and Kail turned her attention back to her bath. She spent some time scrubbing the blood from her skin and washing it from her hair, and by the time she was finished, the water was red, like weak wine. She climbed out, dressed, and waited for her food to arrive. She didn't have to wait long; a servant arrived shortly after with a bowl of soup, a roll of bread, a selection of cooked meats and vegetables, and a choice of cakes for pudding.

She ate alone in her room, not because she didn't want company, but because she didn't want to look at the faces of men who might soon be dead. Would the Greycloaks who guarded her door and windows be alive by the end of tomorrow? Would the men who Casavir and Khelgar had trained still be able to fight the day after? A week from now, would the Keep still stand, or would it lie in ruin? Would history remember her as the victor, or just another victim?


	100. Burning your Bridges

_100. Burning Your Bridges_

"Kail, wake up! Wake up!" A strong feeling of déjà vu washed over Kail as Neeshka shook her gently awake. She didn't bother trying to roll over and go back to sleep this time, but simply sat up and rubbed her eyes, which were aching with tiredness.

"What's wrong? Has somebody else gone missing?"

"No, but all the servants are leaving, with some of the merchants and the children. Sal refuses to go with them, you need to come and talk some sense into him. You know you're the only one he'll listen to."

"Alright, alright," she sighed. "Give me a moment, I'll meet you down in the courtyard."

When Neeshka left, Kail rolled out of bed and began to dress. She took her time, not because she didn't want to see the evacuation of the Keep, but because this might be the last time she ever dressed. If Nasher was wrong, if the Guardian had pushed his army throughout the night, they could be here by evening. This could be the last time she ever woke up and got out of bed, the last time she pulled on clean clothes, the last time she brushed her hair and fastened the Sword on her belt.

Or, if Nevalle was wrong, and the Guardian decided a siege was preferable, she might have many more days of waking and dressing before her. Many more days of being slowly starved, of men losing their nerve at the sight of the shadow-army camped outside the Keep. The Guardian might try to force her to attack, to leave the safety of the Keep to break through their blockade... in which case she stood little chance of succeeding.

At last she could delay no longer, and she left her room. She patted the golem's metal arm as she passed it, possibly for the last time. She greeted the Greycloaks she encountered in the corridors, and wondered if she would ever greet them again. Her mind felt oddly detached from reality. This was it. The time was here. The next few days would decide the fate of the Sword Coast. She should have been afraid, or nervous, or excited, but instead she felt... nothing. There was only calm acceptance within her. A lot of these soldiers fighting for her would soon die. But they would not die alone. She would probably die with them, and for some reason, that didn't worry her anymore.

It was another fine, cold morning, and her breath frosted in the air around her as she stepped out of the Keep and trod the icy path down to the courtyard, passing through the inner gates which were the last line of protection for the Keep proper. A large number of people had already assembled there; servants were dressed for travel, carrying as much as they could comfortably take on their backs. The women had scarves wrapped around their heads, to keep out the chill wind, and several of them led children by the hands. A group of farmers stood protectively around them, carrying hoes, rakes and scythes as weapons. Not far away, Khelgar was arguing with Sal, who had managed to find himself a set of chain armour and a sword. He handled it with the ease of familiarity, and simply watched Khelgar as the dwarf ranted.

"There's no way I'm leaving my inn unguarded," he said at last. "I want to make sure there's something left for me to come back to."

"Bah, ye know we'd never let any undead near the place!" said Khelgar.

"Who said I meant the undead? I've seen you eyeing my rare stock and my ale caskets."

"Sal," she said, approaching the pair. "You can't stay here, it's too dangerous."

"I grew up in Luskan and travelled a lot when I was younger. I survived the Wailing Death, and the war between Luskan and Neverwinter. Danger's an old friend of mine. Besides, I'm not a Greycloak, and I'm not a soldier. You can't give me orders, and even if you tried, I don't have to follow them."

"Deekin is staying also!" said a small voice from behind Sal's knees. The kobold merchant stepped out wearing leather armour and carrying a light crossbow.

"Next you're going to tell me that Startear's staying too," she sighed.

"Nah," said Sal. "That old coward went back to Sigil last night. Don't think he fancies your chances, but then, he hasn't seen you take down Moire, or Lorne, or Garius. I have more faith in you."

"Thank you," she said, genuinely touched. "But this is your last chance to leave. After this, I can't let you go, because there's too much chance of you being captured by the shadow army and tortured for information."

"Good job I don't know anything then, eh?" Sal grinned. "The most they'll get out of me is my recipe for honey-roast gammon and boiled potatoes."

"Deekin not know much either," said the kobold. "Most they'll get out of Deekin be autographed copy of newest book, Hordes of the Underdark. But Deekin will not give up copy easily."

"Captain!" Kana marched over, wearing on her face the closest thing to a scowl Kail had ever seen. "Some of the children are unaccounted for."

She nodded, and looked out at the scared faces of the servants and the children with them, and the grim faces of the farmers and their families. Then, she made a command decision.

"We can't wait any longer. We have to get these people out of here now. Everybody, listen to me!" she called, and the voices slowly fell silent as the refugees turned to watch her. "It is imperative that you keep moving. Follow the High Road to Neverwinter, and from there you can join the rest of the citizens heading to Port Llast. Once you get there, stay together, look after each other, and try to keep safe. No matter what, don't turn back, because I can't guarantee you'll find safety here after you've gone. As you know, the Guardian's army approaches. As soon as it is safe for you to return, we'll send a letter by courier, but until then, you have to take care of each other, and pray for everybody who is staying behind to defend Crossroad Keep."

It must have been a moving speech, because some of the women were crying. Or perhaps they were simply crying over being forced to flee their home. She didn't know. Either way, they didn't look as if they wanted to leave any time soon.

"Now, it's time for you to go," she said. "If the gods are willing, I'll see you all soon."

They began to shuffle reluctantly towards the gates, and Kail watched them go with a heavy heart. The road between Crossroad Keep and Neverwinter wasn't exactly safe, even at the best of times. With the approach of the Guardian's forces, highwaymen and brigands had been forced back, closer to the city. Hopefully, the sight of so many armed farmers would make thieves think twice about attacking the group, but there were no guarantees.

"Good speech, Captain," said Sal. "I'll be inside, if you want anything to eat or drink."

He returned to his inn, and Deekin went back to his shop. The few remaining Greycloaks, most of whom were married to the servants and had come to see them off, slowly disbanded, and Kail was left alone with Kana and Khelgar.

"It _was_ a good speech, lass," said Khelgar.

"You didn't think it was a bit over the top?"

"There is a difference between hope, and false hope, Captain," said Kana.

"I suppose you're right."

"Lord Nasher has asked us to join him in the war room, to go over some of the defences."

She nodded, and let Kana lead the way back to the Keep. It was unlikely that Lord Nasher would be able to make any more recommendations. Everything that could be done had already been done. All that was left was to wait for the enemy to arrive. But on the other hand, meeting with Nasher would mean she wasn't sitting around twiddling her thumbs. With nothing better to do, she could humour Lord Nasher one last time.

o - o - o - o - o

"And so we're agreed?" said Lord Nasher. Everybody in the room nodded. Currently, 'everybody' included Kail, Kana, Sand, Khelgar, Nasher, Nevalle, Darmon and the rest of the remaining Nine, and Sal, who had brought up some lunch for them and simply hadn't left. Khelgar was there because he would be relaying the plans to his people, when they arrived, and Sand had used the excuse of being the most senior - and therefore most experienced - person in the Keep, to attend the meeting. Everybody else had been asked there by Nasher, and what they were discussing was where to position everybody in the probable event of an attack upon the Keep.

Kail looked down at the parchment which showed a detailed map of the Keep and its surrounding lands. Markers had been added to indicate Darmon and the other five members of the Nine who would be located at intervals around the Keep, inside the courtyard behind the safety of the walls. They were each to lead groups of Greycloaks in the defences. The rest of Kail's friends were going to be positioned according to their strengths; Casavir would be in the central courtyard, with the bulk of the Greycloak army. Khelgar would be with him, along with the Ironfists, as soon as they arrived. Elanee and Zhjaeve would be close by, ready to lend their assistance in healing injuries. Neeshka, Bishop and Grobnar would be up on the inner walls, with groups of Greycloak archers. Sand and Qara would each be positioned at a point along the walls, and Mister Pointy would be near to protect them if necessary. Ammon would stay close to Kail, so that they could use the Ritual of Arvahn if the Guardian made an appearance, and Kail herself would be wherever she was needed. Nevalle would act as Lord Nasher's eyes and ears on the field, and along with Nasher, would help co-ordinate the defences. A small group of mounted Greycloaks would remain with him, ready to be sent off to relay messages or plug any holes in the defences. Kana would remain inside the inner walls, with Katriona, Bevil, Jalboun and Light of Heavens, ready to render aid where it was required.

"Why didn't you bring any of the Many-Starred Cloaks with you?" she asked suddenly, turning her gaze to Nasher.

"I sent them to Port Llast, to help guard the people there should the King of Shadows make it past us. Their orders are to join up with the army of the Lords' Alliance, when they arrive."

There was a knock on the door, and it opened to admit Daeghun. He ignored Nasher and the Nine as his eyes sought out Kail and Kana. He was wearing mud-splattered leather armour, and his hair was wind-blown and tangled. Though his face was still, his green eyes were troubled.

"What's wrong?" she asked immediately.

"The shadow army is on the move. They'll be here within hours," he replied, and she felt her heart go cold.

"But that's impossible," said Nevalle. "It's daylight!"

"I wouldn't have believed it myself, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes," he said, still affecting to ignore Nevalle. "Either fear of the King of Shadows drives the army forwards, or he has found a way to shield his soldiers from the damaging effects of the sun."

"Perhaps they intend to stage a siege after all," she said to Nasher.

"We must ready ourselves for battle immediately," he replied. "They will be here sooner than we'd anticipated, but the Keep _must_ stand the night. We need to buy as much time as possible, to give the refugees from Neverwinter chance to reach Port Llast... and the Watardhavian fleet a chance to reach us in time to turn the tide of the battle."

"You do have one option," said Daeghun. "Between the shadow army and the Keep are two bridges, which span the river. If these bridges were destroyed, the undead would find it very difficult to cross. It would buy us hours, or maybe more."

"But those bridges are the only way across the river!" said Khelgar. "And the Ironfists haven't arrived yet. If we destroy the bridges, they won't be able to fight with us!"

"It _would_ make our position here much safer," said Sand thoughtfully.

"I agree," said Kana. "It makes strategic sense."

"It won't be easy to destroy those bridges," said Nasher. "Your best chance is to burn them, to destroy them quickly and effectively."

"I think Grobnar's been hiding some blast globes in the cellar," said Sand. "We could use them to blow the bridges up."

"Why would Grobnar hide them them down there?" asked Nevalle, confused. "Blast globes are both fragile and volatile. They are highly dangerous in the wrong hands."

"And that is exactly why he's been keeping them," said Sand. "He simply loves things that blow up other things."

"You should hurry," said Daeghun. "In order to reach the bridges before the shadow army does, you needed to leave an hour ago."

"Kana," said Kail as she hurried out of the room with her friends in tow, "will you send a messenger to the forest? The lizardmen are camped there on the wrong side of the bridge. I want them back at the Keep as soon as possible. Then ask everybody to meet me in the courtyard in ten minutes. And send someone down to retrieve the blast globes from the cellar. And tell twenty Greycloaks to assemble in the courtyard immediately."

"Aye, Captain," she replied, and hurried away.

"So... this is it, then," said Khelgar.

"This is it," she said.

"Funny, how it all suddenly seems so real. I mean, I always knew this day was coming, but I just didn't think it would be now. I always thought we'd have just one more day... and now we're here. No more days."

"You sound almost afraid," said Sand.

"Hah! Not likely. Just surprised, is all. And a bit disappointed that me kin won't make it in time to join in the fun!"

"Sand, would you give me a moment with Khelgar?" she asked.

"Of course. I'll be out in the courtyard, awaiting news of your plan, which will undoubtedly place my life in mortal peril very shortly."

"What is it, lass?" Khelgar asked when Sand left them alone.

"I'm going to have to split our forces, or we'll never be able to reach both bridges in time."

"Makes sense."

"I want you to lead a group to the north-east. I'm going to assign, Zhjaeve, Sand, Neeshka, Casavir, Elanee, and ten Greycloaks to go with you. I'll take Ammon, Qara, Bishiop, Grobnar, Mister Pointy, and the other ten Greycloaks, and hit the south-east bridge. We'll split the blast globes between us and move as quickly as possible."

"I can't help but notice that ye've given me the easy group," he said cautiously.

"It's nothing personal, but I want to keep a very close eye on Qara. I know she'll try to cause trouble, if she can, and I don't want you delayed by that. And I know how much Grobnar irritates you sometimes. I like him, so I'll take him with me, and where Grobnar goes, the golem follows. I'd also like to keep both Ammon and Bishop under my watch, just in case either of them starts getting ideas. Ammon's already run off once, and I just know Bishop will slow you down if he starts arguing with Casavir again."

"Sounds like you've got this well-planned. Don't worry, lass, we'll get to the bridges before the shadow army. In fact, I bet ye ten pints of ale that my group's blown up the bridge and returned to the Keep before we've even caught a whiff of the undead."

"Done," she said with a grin.

o - o - o - o - o

"We have to move faster," said Ammon, striding along the path towards the south-east bridge. "Get a move on, girl, or we'll have to leave you behind."

"Oh, I'm sorry, when did you become boss of the universe?" said Qara, panting as she struggled to keep up with the group.

"You heard Ammon, Qara," said Kail, not bothering to look back. She was feeling quite tired herself, but she wasn't about to admit it to anybody. And she certainly wasn't going to whine about it, like Qara was. It was almost as if the sorceress didn't _want_ them to reach the bridge in time.

"So, you're really not upset that I kept all of these blast globes for... erm... purposes of experimentation?" asked Grobnar, trotting beside one of the Greycloaks who bore in his arms a small box of volatile fiery globes of death.

"Of course not. I just hope we can get to the bridge before the Guardian's forces do."

"Seems you're out of luck," said Bishop, drawing an arrow and placing it on his bow, sighing down his weapon along the path.

Kail's heart fell when she noticed a group of skeletons and shadows, accompanied by a shadow priest, lurking around an abandoned farmhouse, a short distance down the path. She was too late. The shadow army was already here. Anger rose within her. They were here, on _her_ land, looking for _her_ people to kill, _her_ property to damage. Her Sword was in her hand and she was running towards the undead before she even knew what was happening, as arrows of wood and blasts of infernal energy shot past her.

The skeletons were slow, no match for a well-trained fighter. She took out two, decapitating them before moving on to a shadow. It seemed to balk at the silver light of her Sword, and she ran it through, watching it fade to nothingness. Mister Pointy lumbered past her to engage what it perceived as the largest threat; the shadow priest. The last few skeletons fell to Ammon's infernal spells, and when the golem broke through the shadow priest's defences, spearing him on its bladed arm, Kail turned back to the group. The Greycloaks look worried but determined. Ammon's face was stony, and Qara was still sulking. Bishop moved forward to reclaim any undamaged arrows that littered the floor near the corpses, and Qara still had a petulant look on her face. Grobnar was by the golem, praising it for its fast work.

"It looks like we're too late," she said.

"Not necessarily," Ammon replied. "I doubt the bulk of the army is here yet, otherwise we would have encountered nightwalkers... vampires and wraiths. It's more likely that they are still kept at bay by the daylight, and are waiting in the forests at the edge of your lands. These were most likely sent ahead to secure the bridges, and slow down any opposition."

"How would the Guardian know we were planning to destroy the bridges?"

"Because it is capable of thinking like a person. It is very intelligent, and it can learn. By now, it will know your tactics... and mine."

"So we might still have a chance of taking the bridge?"

"Yes, but not easily. It will be heavily guarded. And it will be for nothing if Khelgar's group runs into the same force, decides the mission is a lost cause, and turns back. Both bridges must be destroyed to buy us time."

"Khelgar would never turn back," she said confidently.

"Much as I hate to say it, she's right," said Bishop. "The dwarf doesn't know when to quit. He'll destroy the other bridge, alright, even if he has to do it with his bare fists."

"I suppose this means we'll be pressing on too," said Qara.

"Excellent!" said Grobnar. "I do so love these risky excursions."

"You with the blast globes," said Kail to the Greycloak who was carrying the crate. "Stay at the back of the group. I don't want the undead getting their hands on those."

"Aye, ma'am," he replied, standing a little straighter.

They set off again down the recently paved roads. Since she had taken over governance of Crossroad Keep, countless merchants had travelled this way. The High Road had been made a little safer, and the quality of life of the people of Leeves, or at least their safety, had been increased ten-fold. She was proud of these small changes she had wrought. Granted, most of them had been at the suggestion of others. Veedle had recommended repaving the roads, and Kana had advised sending patrols out wider, to protect the High Road. But Leeves had been entirley her own idea.

The afternoon air was still. Sensing something was wrong, that something large and unnatural was approaching, the birds had left the area. The trees lining the road, normally home to myriad avians, were now silent. No songbirds flitted from tree to tree. No rooks called out raucously to each other. No finches trilled to warn of passers-by. It was like this wherever the shadow approached, Kail knew; the Mere, Shandra's farm, and now her own lands. If left unchecked, the influence of the shadow would extend not only to Neverwinter, but to Luskan, to Waterdeep, and the entire Sword Coast. Whether it posed a risk to the whole of Faerûn was yet to be seen... but if it reached that staged, then she would already have failed, and it would cease to be her problem.

There was a scuffling sound from behind her, and then a thunderous bang. A shockwave hit her, throwing her forward onto the ground, and at the same time she felt heat brushing her body. It happened so quickly that, for a moment, all she could do was lie on the dusty ground in shock. Thoughts raced through her mind; had they been attacked? What enemy had the power to sneak up on them so silently before deploying such a weapon? Why wasn't the enemy upon her whilst she was lying prone? It was muted groans of pain which finally brought her back to herself, and she pushed herself to her feet, feeling dizzy and nauseous. There was a ringing sound in her ears, but no matter how many times she shook her head, she couldn't rid herself of it.

She turned around, and felt her stomach clench as the nausea grew stronger. At the back of the group, where the Greycloak with the blast globes had been walking, there was now a hole in the ground. The earth around it was scorched and black, and looked glassy, as if the silica particles in the dust had fused together. Near the crater, the Greycloaks were in bad shape. Two were dead; she could tell without even having to check. Three more were missing body-parts. One had lost an arm, another a leg, and the third a foot and a hand. The Greycloaks who hadn't been killed or maimed had been burned because of their proximity to the explosion. Her friend had fared better, because they had been further away. Qara's robes had momentarily caught fire at the hem, and her pale skin was covered with black soot. Bishop and Ammon were both sooty and dusty, and all three of them seemed to have the same problem with their ears as she did. Grobnar, who had been walking in front of the golem, had been mostly protected. He looked confused and dazed, but was otherwise unharmed.

"What happened?" she asked the least injured Greycloak. He stared blankly at her, and she knew that he hadn't heard her. "WHAT HAPPENED?" she shouted, forming the words carefully with her mouth.

"HE TRIPPED AND FELL!" the 'Cloak replied, wincing and bringing his hand to his bleeding temple.

"GET EVERYBODY BACK TO THE KEEP. I HAVE TO GET TO THE BRIDGE."

The Greycloak nodded, and began helping his colleagues to understand her orders. Together, they helped the maimed soldiers to stand, and began hobbling back to the Keep. There was very little blood, and she quickly understood why; the heat of the explosion had instantly cauterised the wounds. Some of the Greycloaks might die of shock, but at least not of blood loss.

"WHAT NOW?" asked Ammon. "WITHOUT THOSE BLAST GLOBES, WE HAVE NO WAY OF DESTROYING THE BRIDGE."

"WHAT?" said Qara, sticking her finger into her ear and wiggling it around.

"I CAN DESTROY THE BRIDGE WITH DRAGON FIRE," Kail replied to him. "IT MIGHT TAKE LONGER BUT WILL BE JUST AS EFFECTIVE."

"WHAT?" said Ammon.

Grobar opened his pack, took out his quill and a piece of paper, and scribbled something before handing the sheet to her. It read '_Awfully sorry, but I don't seem to be able to hear you.'_

Qara snatched the quill and paper and began writing something herself. Then she handed the paper to Kail. _'This is all your fault. I'm going back to the Keep.'_

_'Fine,'_ Kail wrote back. '_If you are too scared to go on, we will go on without you.'_

_'Are you stupid? If I can't hear myself talk I can't hear what I'm saying and can't cast spells.'_

_ 'She has a point,'_ Ammon wrote grudgingly.

'_IS THIS __PERMANENT__?'_ she wrote, and held it up for Bishop to read.

'_Probably not,'_ he wrote back. '_But if it is, at least we won't have to listen to Her Highness whining anymore.'_

She snatched the paper and quill back before Qara could object, and began writing again. '_I'm going on. I can destroy the bridge myself. Anybody who wants to go back to the Keep, can go. We're losing valuable time, we can't keep arguing about it.'_

_ 'I have something that can help us,' _Grobnar wrote. He put the paper down and rooted around in his pack. A moment later he brought out several small vials of green liquid. '_Potions of speed,'_ he wrote.

Kail took one of them from his open hand and Ammon took another. Bishop took a third, and after a minute of deliberation, Qara took one too. That left one for Grobnar. Kail pulled the cork out of her own vial, and downed the contents. She didn't know how long the potion would last for, but she could already feel the effects at work in her body. Her heart increased, to compensate for an increased metabolic rate. Her breaths came more quickly as her body's demand for oxygen rose. She blinked twice as fast, and when she moved her hand in front of her face, it moved rapidly, her fingers a blur.

She didn't wait to see everybody else drink from their vials. Instead, she set out at a run along the path, and before long she heard multiple footsteps behind her as the others caught up. So fast was she running that she almost went headlong into another group of skeletons and shadow priests. At the last moment she drew her Sword, and, using her momentum, cleaved one of the skeletons in two before running one of the priests through with the Sword. Arrows whistled around her at phenomenal speeds, and then Ammon was beside her, using his warmace to smash the ribs and the skulls of their skeletal foes. The construct, which had only just been able to catch up with the group, jogged forward to decapitate another skeleton, and Kail watched a second shadow priest fall with an arrow sticking out of his head. They made short work of the group, then continued at a sprint.

Kail's heart began pumping with excitement when she saw the bridge down the road, and she was the first one to reach it. She stopped and looked around as she waited for the others to catch up to her. Ammon had said the place would be heavily guarded, but there was nobody here. No shadow priests, no skeletons, no shadows or zombies... could this be a trap? Had the shadow army sent small groups to lure her here, and meanwhile moved their forces to the north-east bridge? Was Khelgar, even now, walking into an ambush?

She didn't have to wonder for long. From the other side of the bridge, a Reaver and two shadow priests approached. This wasn't just any Reaver; it was Garius. She would recognise his horrible, grinning, skeletal face anywhere. And worse, Ammon wouldn't be able to effectively recite the True Names. Both Garius and the priests seemed to be moving slowly, and she quickly understood why. Under the influence of the potion, anything moving at normal speed appeared to be moving instead at half speed. She saw Garius' jaw move, and sound came out, but even had she been able to hear his words, she knew she would have struggled to understand them whilst her mind was processing information at twice its normal speed.

Garius obviously expected her to reply, because he was looking at her, as if waiting for a response. But she didn't have time for whatever games he was playing. She had to act now, before the potion wore off. She readied the Sword, felt her energy flowing into the blade and back into herself, connecting them on an unseen level, but before she could step forward to engage him, a plethora of undead creatures stepped forward. It wasn't just skeletons and shadows this time, but ghouls and ghasts. Upon nearby ridges, skeletal archers took up position, covering her with their bows. The only blessing was that there were no creatures of the night here. No wraiths, and no vampires. She hadn't seen a vampire since the two which had almost drained her life, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to face any more.

Instinctively, she knew that something was different about these undead. They were larger than the others she had encountered, and were surrounded by dark auras which the light of the sun struggled to penetrate. Her father had guessed correctly, it seemed; somehow, the undead had been shielded against the effects of the sun. It made her blood run cold and her heart pound in her chest. Everything she had done, all of the defences she had set up, had been on the premise that the undead would come at night, that they would fight only until the first rays of dawn broke the horizon. If the undead could fight on even through daylight, the Keep stood little chance.

As the undead drew closer, she stepped slowly backwards. The rest of the group had clustered together in the centre of the clearing just before the bridge, knowing without being told that fighting back-to-back was the only thing that would help them now. But they were still greatly outnumbered. There were at least six skeletal archers, as many ghouls and ghasts, over-large skeletons wielding swords, and a couple of shadow priests, to say nothing of Garius himself. He appeared to still be talking, and seemed to take her walking backwards as a sign of fear. Now, he and the priests were on the other side of the bridge. A few paces more, and she would be able to set the thing on fire. True, it would leave her own group surrounded by undead on this side of the river, but she would have completed her task.

Maybe Garius picked up on her thoughts, because he suddenly disappeared, teleporting away and leaving behind his minions to finish her off. As the skeletal archers drew back their bows, she closed her eyes, preparing to feel arrows pierce her flesh.

Instead, she felt her skin harden, and looked down to see her flesh turn grey. Then she noticed that Grobnar had his flute to his mouth, and even as he played, arrows bounced off her, and everybody else in the group. His bardic music had saved them, creating a barrier of thick iron around her skin.

She didn't need telling twice to act. Leaving the group, she hacked through the body of the nearest ghast before it could close on her friends. Arrows sailed over her head as Bishop began firing at the skeletal archers which were out of range of everybody else. Ammon, meanwhile, was striking out at a group of ghouls with his own warmace, while Qara used her crossbow to distract the shadow priests with bolts. Mister Pointy proved invaluable; the golem cleanly and methodically hacked its way through skeletons and ghasts. It didn't fight with speed, but there was nothing the undead could do to stop it.

Kail ducked as a ghoul lashed out at her, slipping under its arms. She turned, preparing to skewer it with the Sword, but was saved the trouble. An arrow came whistling through the air, piercing one eye of the creature, which fell limply to the floor. For an instant she thought that Bishop had killed it, but then she saw him _behind_ the ghoul, still firing at skeletal archers. She turned, and on the other side of the bridge saw Daeghun cresting a low hill. His bow was in his hands, and he fired arrows one after the other into the fray. Her heart leapt at the sight of him calmly despatching his enemies, and again when an army of lizardfolk appeared behind him, charging into battle with their spears held low.

The sounds of battle began to filter into her ears, and she realised her hearing was slowly clearing. At the same time, the ironskin began to wear off, and she felt her body become more flexible.

"Look out behind you!" Ammon called to her. She turned her head a fraction and saw one of the skeletal archers taking aim at her. As it pulled back its bowstring, seemingly in slow-motion, she raised the Sword. Her arm was still moving as the arrow was released and began flying through the air, each flight feather blowing gently in the breeze. Up came the Sword, and instead of piercing her flesh, the barbed arrow glanced harmlessly off the Sword, clattering to the group. At that moment, the effects of the potion of speed wore off, and the battle returned to normal pace.

The RAMP, forgotten until this moment, now made its presence felt by banging against her leg. She lifted it and flipped the safety catch with her thumb as she took at the skeleton, and released ten small bolts powerfully into its body. It landed with a heavy thud at the base of the cliff upon which it had been standing. She realised, then, that it was over. All of the ghouls and ghasts and skeletons had been destroyed. Both shadow-priests lay dead, their bodies still twitching on the ground.

She glanced around her friends, looking for injuries, but for a wonder, everybody appeared unharmed. If it hadn't been for Grobnar's quick thinking, and Daeghun's sudden arrival, she and everybody else would probably be dead by now.

"What are you doing here, father?" she asked, the ringing sound in her ears now completely diminished.

"You asked Kana to send a scout, to bring the lizardfolk to the Keep, and I volunteered my services. Now, you must finish what you came here to do. Where are your blast globes?"

"We... ah... had an accident with them. I'm going to destroy the bridge with fire instead."

"Very well. Do what must be done, then we can return to the Keep and begin laying plans for the next assault."

She stepped towards the bridge, and everybody else stepped away from it. The wood would not burn easily, she knew. The river was swollen with recently melted snow from the north, and it splashed the underside of the bridge, constantly wetting it. But this was the only way. Standing at a distance of a few feet, she spread out her hands and saw fire in her mind. The air between herself and the bridge rippled as heat passed through it, and then the bridge burst into flames. Bigger and hotter she imagined the fire, and it grew in size, responding to her thoughts. Fireballs flew over her head, impacting the opposite side of the bridge, and she knew that Qara had recovered her ability to cast magic.

At last the bridge was blazing, the flames leaping into the sky, sending up a dark plume of smoke that mirrored a newly formed plume to the south. Nodding in satisfaction, she turned, and led the way back to Crossroad Keep.

o - o - o - o - o

The setting sun bathed the fields and forests in a bright red light. A red sky at sunset was supposed to be a good omen, but all Kail could think of was how much the red light looked like a sea of blood rolling inexorably over the farmland towards the Keep. Maybe the others thought so too, for nobody spoke as they marched west at the fastest pace she could set. And because everybody was so quiet, and the air was so still, she had no problems hearing a song being sung loudly by a plethora of voices. It was a dwarven song about fighting, ale and women, and when her road joined the one from the north-east, she smiled. Khelgar was walking at the head of a very large group of dwarves, and dotted amongst them were Sand, Zhjaeve, Elanee, Neeshka, Casavir, and all ten of the Greycloaks she had sent with him.

"Kail!" Khelgar called when he saw her marching towards him. "Guess who arrived just in time to smash a few skeleton skulls!"

"Our apologies for the late hour of our arrival, Knight-Captain," said Keros. He, like the other dwarves, was armoured from head to toe, and he carried in his hands a gleaming axe, its blade marred with red blood -- probably from a shadow priest, she suspected. "We had to stop along the way to battle a tribe of orcs who thought we'd be easy pickings."

"Everyone's okay, I hope?" she asked.

"Everybody on our side. Can't say the same for the orcs."

"What happened, lass?" said Khelgar. "Where are yer Greycloaks? And what was that ash cloud we saw a couple of miles into the march?"

"That was one of the Greycloaks. He was carrying the blast globes, tripped, and blew himself up, along with most of his friends. I sent the survivors back to the Keep, and we carried on. We were ambushed by Garius at the bridge."

"Huh. And what did he have to say for himself?"

"I don't know... I couldn't really hear him."

"But the bridge is..?"

"Destroyed, yes."

"Excellent! Time fer a celebration when we get back t' the Keep."

"There is little cause to celebrate," said Casavir seriously. "The undead appear immune to the sunlight."

"They're still no match fer us, laddie."

Kail said nothing. There was a fine line between optimism and denial, and Khelgar was walking it well. The song continued on the way back to the Keep, and by the time the sun had finally set, and the sky had darkened to black, their small army was passing through the Keep's gates. Kana and Nevalle were waiting for them.

"Only four of the Greycloaks you sent back have survived, Captain," said Kana matter-of-factly.

"We have a bigger problem than that now," she replied. "The Guardian has found some way to shield the undead from the effects of sunlight. They can fight even in the daytime, now."

Kana paled, but manage to keep her face straight, which was a small blessing. The last thing she needed now was for her lieutenant to go to pieces or start worrying. The Greycloaks would pick up on that and it would travel through them like a plague. Now, more than ever, she needed everybody to stay strong and calm.

"We'd better tell Lord Nasher, but I doubt it will change our plans in any way," said Nevalle. "He'll tell us that the Keep must stand until Neverwinter has been evacuated and the Waterdeep army arrives."

"Then let's go and see him," she said, gesturing for both Kana and Nevalle to follow her. Her friends dispersed to their usual haunts, with Elanee leading the lizardfolk to her temporary grove, and the Ironfists joining Khelgar in the inn. She just hoped Sal wouldn't give them _too_ much to drink. The shadow army was bound to arrive when they were least expected.

o - o - o - o - o

In the end, Nevalle had been right. Nasher was disturbed about the revelation of the undead's new-found ability to fight and travel in daylight, but he said nothing had changed. The shadow army would come, and the forced of Crossroad Keep and Neverwinter would stand against them, right down to the last man. He was adamant, though, that Kail had to survive. If the battle turned in favour of the invading army, both she and Ammon were to flee, taking Aldanon and the Tome of Iltzakar with them. Aldanon would still have to find a way for them to enter the Vale of Meredelain, and together they would still have to defeat the King of Shadows using the Illefarn Ritual of Purification and the Sword of Gith.

She, of course, told him that she'd do no such thing. She couldn't ask her troops to defend a Keep whilst she fled to save herself. She wouldn't leave, under any circumstances, and there was nothing he could do to change her mind. They'd argued about it, of course, and when Nasher had finally ordered Nevalle and the rest of the Nine to physically carry Kail away if the battle went badly, she'd finally left, promising herself to keep a close eye on Nevalle in future.

The familiar floor of the corridor passed beneath her feet as she returned to her room. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to be alone or in company. The hour was late, but not yet late enough for bed, and she knew her friends would be at the inn, celebrating their victory at the bridges. She was barely paying attention to the Keep around her, and so didn't hear the soft patter of footsteps, and didn't see the children until they turned the corner at a run and, giggling, crashed into her. Both children, sibling orphans named Dory and Wolf, went sprawling, and Kail only recovered her balance at the last moment.

"Oops," said Wolf, looking extremely guilty as he picked himself up off the floor.

"Sorry, Captain," said Dory.

"The whole Keep has been looking for you," she said, affecting her best stern, parental voice. It made her sound, she thought, as if she had a cold.

"We know. We've been hiding from them," Wolf grinned.

"But why? It's going to get very dangerous around here very soon. You were supposed to evacuate to Port Llast."

"We don't want to go. We're fed up of adults telling us what to do! This is our home now, and you don't just leave your home because somebody wants to take it away from you, not if it's a home worth fighting for."

"Sometimes you have to leave the things that you love," she said, kneeling down to their eye-level. "Sometimes, doing the right thing means doing the thing you really don't want to do."

"Such as leaving a losing battle when ordered, to give you a chance at winning the greater war, Kalach-cha?" said Zhjaeve, appearing from around the corner.

"Don't make this about me, Zhjaeve," she said, standing.

"Know that these children only want to protect the place that they care about, and the people they care about, just as you do. How can you expect them to do the right thing and listen to you when you yourself will not do the right thing and listen to Lord Nasher?"

"It's an entirely different situation. Children, go to the tavern and tell Sal I said he's to make you something to eat." They ran off holding hands, and Kail waited until their footsteps faded to silence. "Is there something you want, Zhjaeve?"

"Yes, Kalach-cha. I want to help you to know yourself. I would for us to continue our meditations one last time."

"Why bother? I think we both know that I'm hopeless at meditating."

"Know that our situation has changed. Before, during our previous meditations, you have had much to lose. Now, you have nothing to lose. The Guardian's army will be here in either hours or days. There is nothing any of us can do except wait, but I hope to do something constructive in our last moments. I hope to have one last chance to help you know yourself, if you will let me."

"Okay. I'll give it one last try."

"Then come with me, Kalach-cha."

She nodded, and followed Zhjaeve, and they walked down the grey stone corridors towards the library. The door opened silently, and the githzerai entered, making her way towards the back area. They passed Aldanon and his assistant, who were arguing about a translation in the Tome of Iltkazar, they passed Sand's fortress of book piles, which seemed to have grown another storey and a north-wing since she had last been here, they passed the shelves full of dusty, musty-smelling books, and settled down onto two large cushions in a quiet corner lit by candlelight.

"Are you ready to finally know yourself, Kalach-cha?" Zhjaeve asked. Kail nodded. "Then close your eyes and began to breathe deeply, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Imagine yourself within a great river; it is the river of life, and you wade through it. The current begins to increase in speed and intensity, and you move with it, feeling the water rise above your thighs, upto your stomach, and then to your chest."

Breathing slowly and deeply, Kail began to _feel_ the cold water around her as Zhjaeve's voice fell away. The icy currents swirled around her, chilling her skin, and beneath her bare feet she felt sand and gravel shift. A moment later the river swelled, and she was lifted fully from the bottom, forced to tread water. A calm voice told her that rocks were appearing in front of her, and these rocks represented safety. They were something she could cling to if she needed to feel secure and anchored. They were what she held on to when the river of life tried to carry it with her.

She stretched out her hand and felt for the smooth surface of the rock. She grasped it with her fingers, pulling herself towards it, and for a moment, the current relented. She found a secure grip and clung to the rock, shivering, tired, alone, but still fighting. The disembodied voice told her to slowly release her grip on the rock, to relax her hands and the rest of her body. She followed the instruction, but when she felt the current try to seize her once more, she gripped the rock again, forcing her body towards it, using even her feet to keep her hold on the rock.

The river was life, the voice said. To know herself, she had to know how she reacted to it. She had to know not only what form the rock she clung to took, but also how she reacted to life, to being thrown around without control. She had to surrender that control, to let herself be carried by the river of life, before she could know herself and master herself. _Let go_, the voice whispered. _Let go and know yourself, or hold onto the rock and be a slave to the river of life, a slave to your own weaknesses._ The river rose again, the water pushing her further up the rock. It kept rising and rising, and she realised it was trying to dislodge her, which made her cling on all the harder, until her fingers began to bleed with the pressure of her grip and the water began to turn red with her blood. A wave approached, washing over her head, and she swallowed a mouthful of water. The river was trying to _drown_ her! She coughed and spluttered, and as she gripped onto the rock with the last vestiges of her strength, she thought about being away from here, back in the library of Crossroad Keep where it was safe and warm and dry.

She opened her eyes to find Zhjaeve watching her, and knew what the githzerai was thinking. Kail Farlong had once again failed in her meditations. She still didn't know herself, and Zhjaeve was considering it a huge failure on both of their behalfs.

"You still refuse to submit yourself to the currents of life, Kalach-cha. Why do you fight what comes so naturally to most people?"

"Because you're wrong. I _do_ have something to lose. Even now, after everything that's happened, even when I have nothing to do but wait, I still have one thing to lose; myself. And if I lose myself, if I lose who I am, then I might as well be dead. I might as well become another Guardian. An empty shell of unfeeling force. It's my weaknesses that make me human, and I will either live or die as a human. I will never stop fighting, because it is what makes me... me."

"If I didn't know better, I would say that you seem almost afraid to know yourself."

"Well maybe I have good reason to be afraid. Just forget about the meditations. They're never going to work. Maybe if I had a lot of time and no threat of imminent death hanging over my head, then I might do better. But right here, right now, meditation isn't for me. If anything, it's distracting me. I appreciate you trying, I really do, and I'll make sure that everybody knows it's not your fault if I fail. You tried your best, and that's all anyone can ask. For now... I think I need to sleep. My body just wants to shut down for a few hours and let my mind rest."

"As you wish, Kalach-cha. Pleasant dreams."

"And to you."

She left the library and returned to her suite, quietly bolting the door closed behind her. Now, both her body and her mind were screaming at her for sleep. For the past couple of days, she'd gone to bed late, woken early, and done physically and mentally demanding tasks throughout the day.

Crossing the room to her desk, she sank down on the wooden chair and removed her boots. There would be no more meditation. There would be no more skirmishes with the shadow army. There was nowhere left to run and hide. Whatever happened next would happen, and all she could do was hope and pray that she had done enough. From the drawer of her desk she took out the piece of paper sitting on top of Kana's old reports, and placed it on the table, scanning the lines.

_When the last words have been spoken,_

_ And when the last dance is through,_

She picked up her quill and dipped it into her inkpot and added another line.

_When the final curtain has fallen,_

She put the pen away and the paper away and closed the drawer. Whatever happened next would happen, but for now, she needed to sleep.


	101. Paying The Price

_101. Paying The Price_

There was loud knocking on the bedroom door of the Captain's Suite, and it brought Kail out of a dream in which she'd been trying to cross a river that threatened to flood every time she stepped near it. For a moment, she wondered where she was, and why she felt so strange. Then she realised she'd fallen asleep on her desk. Literally. Her head was resting on her arms, uncomfortable on the hard wooden surface. Her whole body felt numb, and there was a niggling ache in her back as a result of sleeping in the unnatural position.

The knock came again, more insistent this time.

"Come in," she called, pushing herself up off the table into something approaching a sitting position. Her lower back had gone quite stiff.

To her surprise, it was Sand who entered. His normally immaculate hair was tousled out of place, and there was a small ink stain on the left sleeve of his robe. He appeared not to notice her own dishevelled appearance when his eyes found her.

"Kana sent me to fetch you," he said immediately. "You're needed in the war room right now."

"Why, what's happened?" she asked, reaching for the Sword before following him out of the room.

"Scouts just returned, and whatever they had to say to her, she didn't like it."

They weren't the first to arrive in the war room. Kana was already there, as was Nevalle, along with Grobnar, Neeshka, Ammon and Zhjaeve. Casavir and Elanee arrived together a few seconds later, followed shortly after by Bishop, then Qara and Khelgar. They piled into the room, and Khelgar shut the door behind him.

"The shadow army is on the move again," said Kana without preamble. "The scouts report they're only a couple of hours away, and they have siege equipment with them. It appears they're going to try storming the walls."

"But it's only a few hours till sunrise!" said Khelgar. "They'll be caught out in the sun and destroyed!"

"Not if the Guardian's magic can keep them safe from the sun, as it did yesterday," said Casavir.

"I wonder how they managed to cross the river," said Ammon. "It should have delayed them for far longer than this."

"What sort of siege equipment are we talking about?" asked Nevalle.

"Towers, mostly," said Kana. "They'll probably be pushed by zombies, and will be filled with vampires, wraiths, shadows and skeletons - creatures that can inflict the most damage if they get onto and inside our walls. Our scouts saw six or seven of these structures in total, but there's no guarantee that's all they have."

"Can we use blast globes to destroy them?" asked Kail.

"I wouldn't recommend it, Captain. Blast globes could damage our own walls and troops. They're a little too volatile for this kind of close-quarters fighting."

"Then we'll have to do it the old fashioned way." She took a map of the Keep from the table behind her and rolled it out, weighting down each corner with a stone. "Sand, Qara, you'll be stationed on top of the inner walls. They're elevated higher than the outer walls so you should have a clear view of the siege towers. Elanee, Zhjaeve, Grobnar, I want you up there too, to do what you can. Neeshka, Bishop, stay with them, and try to keep anything that comes over the walls away from them. Khelgar, Casavir, Ammon, you'll be on the outer walls with me."

"What about your allies?" asked Nevalle. "If we ever needed them, now's the time."

"The Ironfists can man the outer walls with me. Lizardmen in the courtyard, along with the Greycloaks. Archers on the inner walls, with everyone else. And the construct can stay in the courtyard too. Is everybody clear on their orders?"

She looked around at their faces, trying to gauge their feelings and expectations by their expressions. Unsurprisingly, Khelgar looked eager. Casavir looked grim, and Elanee sad. Neeshka looked a little sick, as if she wanted to throw up. Qara appeared pleased at the prospect of using her powers; her eyes were bright and sparkling. Bishop, meanwhile, looked angry. Completely the opposite, Zhjaeve looked calm. Grobnar was scribbling excitedly in his notepad, whilst Sand looked resigned. Ammon's face was, as ever, a blank mask that hid his emotions.

"You have a couple of hours until we need to move. I suggest you all make the most of your time."

There was no need to tell anybody twice. Khelgar, last to arrive, was the first to leave, no doubt to tell his clan what was happening. Sand muttered something about helping Aldanon, and left for the library, followed by both Zhjaeve and Ammon. Bishop stalked out with Karnwyr behind him, probably going back to the inn, whilst Elanee dragged Casavir out by the arm. No need to wonder where _they_ were going. Qara left too, and Grobnar hurried out to find Mister Pointy. That left Kail and Neeshka walking side by side down the corridor.

The Keep felt strangely empty without the servants in it, as if an important part was missing. They walked in silence until the reached the Captain's Suite, and Kail knew that Neeshka wanted to keep her company, to reassure her about the upcoming battle. It was something she didn't think she could handle. Not now.

"Do you mind giving me some time alone?" she asked the tiefling. "I've got to finish a few things and sign some paperwork. Boring stuff, but it needs to be done."

"Sure thing. I'll be at Sal's if you need me," said Neeshka, squeezing her arm before padding softly down the corridor.

Kail slipped into her room and leant back against the door. In reality, there was no paperwork. There was nothing at all left for her to do, but she didn't feel like making idle conversation. Now that the moment had arrived, there was nothing left to say. Nothing left to do, except wait for battle. She would take a few minutes to arm herself with her various weapons, then she'd head up to the shrine atop the Keep and asked Shaundakul, one last time, to grant her favourable winds.

A knock on the door behind her made her jump. She pulled it open, expecting to find Sand or Neeshka, and was surprised to see Bishop standing in front of her instead. Her heart, already beating quickly because of her fright, started pounding instead. Well, he _had_ said that if he hadn't been able to claim anything from her before going head to head with the King of Shadows, he'd use her debt to him to bed her. What she didn't understand was why he thought he needed to buy that from her. He could have just asked and kept the debt. She might not have said 'no'.

She opened the door for him and closed it behind him when he'd stepped into her room. Now that the moment was here, she felt nervous. In fact, she felt more nervous about this than about the upcoming battle, which was stupid. It wasn't as if she'd never been with a man before.

"I suppose you've come to claim your 'price'," she said, forcing her voice to remain steady, forcing her eyes to meet his, which glittered gold in the flickering torchlight.

"That's right," he said quietly. "Pack a bag for travelling and meet me behind the inn in ten minutes."

"What?" she asked, wondering if this was some sort of strange joke.

"A bag. The inn. Ten minutes."

"What are you talking about?"

"My price. The thing I can claim from you and you have no choice but to give me. I'm getting out of this place tonight, and you're going with me."

"Are you _insane_? I can't leave right before the battle. In case you'd forgotten, I'm the only one who can defeat the King of Shadows."

"I haven't forgotten, but I can tell you right now how the battle is going to play out. This Keep, these people in it, they're rocks, and they're sinking, dragging you down with them. You're too stubborn and foolish to save your own life by leaving, so I'm doing it for you. This way, you won't have to see all those people dying for you, and you won't have to beat yourself up over it."

"Don't pretend you're doing this for me!" she said. She felt she ought to be angry with him for even suggesting it, but she couldn't bring herself to be angry. Fear was just one step away from anger, and she didn't want to give fear the chance to creep in. "If you want to leave, then leave, but I'm not going with you. I'm not going to abandon the people who need me."

"Yes, you are. You have no choice. You swore to give me anything I asked for, and this is my choice," he said angrily.

"And what then? Even if you force me to leave, once I've left I'll owe you nothing, and you won't be able to stop me from coming back. You won't have accomplished anything except saving your own life, which you can do anyway." She could tell by the sullen look on his face that he hadn't considered this possibility. "Why are you even suggesting this? What's in it for you?"

He crossed the floor silently and stopped before her, and as always, she refused to back away.

"You keep telling me I should do good deeds. Well, this is it. The one good deed I'll ever do. So pack your bag and stop arguing. Every moment we waste is a moment the shadow army draws near."

"No," she said quietly. "What you're suggesting isn't a good deed. A good deed would be staying here and helping me. A smart deed would be leaving on your own to save your own life. But trying to force me to go with you? That's not a good deed... it's a selfish one."

"The people here don't give a damn about me, wildcat, and they don't give a damn about you either. They just want you to protect them and die for them. Is that what you want? To die for these people?" he asked, leaning in close so that his voice was a whisper in her ear, his breath warm on her neck.

"Want to? No. But if I have to, I will."

"No, you won't. You're leaving with me, and if you don't, you'll make a liar out of yourself."

"I told you I would give you anything you wanted... but I also said I wouldn't allow you to harm anybody travelling with me, nor would I harm them in your place. If I leave, everybody here will die, and by leaving, I would have killed them as surely as if I'd struck the blow myself." There was silence as he considered her words.

"That's cheating," he said at last.

"No, it's a loop-hole. If I could leave, I would. But I can't. And you can't save me."

"I can't, or you won't let me?"

"Both."

"Fine," he snarled, whirling away. "Be like that. But don't expect me to die for you."

"Bishop," she said, and he halted with the door open. "Ask me again, after the Guardian's been destroyed."

He slammed the door closed behind him without replying. She wished she had the courage to ask him to stay, to spend the next hour or two with her, but had he wanted her company, he could have sought it at any time over the past months. As much as her traitorous heart ached at the thought of him leaving, it was perhaps for the best. One less person to die because of, or for, her. One less person for her to die for.

o - o - o - o - o

Anger made Bishop's blood boil as he stalked through the Keep, and he wasn't sure who he was angry at most; himself, or Kail. He was angry with her for obvious reasons. She'd broken her promise, using a sneaky trick worthy of any _politician_ to worm her way out of giving him what he wanted. He should've known she'd do something like that. Ever since the destruction of West Harbor she'd seemed to resign herself to this fate, to battling the King of Shadows one-on-one, and he knew how that would end. She was a good fighter, she was strong and she was fierce, but she was no match for the Illefarn Guardian.

So yes, he was angry at her, but he was angry with himself for several reasons. The first and most obvious was that he should have known better. He should have known she would never agree to leave. Even after the things he'd done to try and soften her up -- helping her to track down Jerro, making a shrine for her -- she still refused to trust him. She still thought that she knew best. But he was also angry with himself because this had happened more than once before, and he knew how it would go.

The first time he had offered to help a woman in need, he had made the offer wholly expecting her not to accept it. The former assassin, his first ever 'job' for the Circle of Blades was dead as soon as she met him, even if she didn't know it at the time. When he'd offered to finish her business in Luskan for her, allowing her to flee instead, he knew that she wouldn't accept the offer, but he'd made it all the same. Her death was a foregone conclusion, which made it easy to make the offer.

The second woman he'd tried to save had been one of only two people, at least until now, that he'd ever loved. His childhood friend, Rosie, had chosen a violent husband over him. She'd chosen to remain with a man who beat her, and she had died for that choice. All he'd wanted to do was take care of Rosie, and even her daughter, but she hadn't let him, just as Kail was now not letting him save her. Why did women continually make the wrong choices with him? What would it take to make _somebody_ want him to save them?

He should have stuck to his original plan. Angering Kail into attacking him so that he could kill her in self defence would have been much easier than trying to convince her to leave. It was just _really_ hard to not want to touch her when she was standing there in front of him. What had he been thinking? It wasn't as if he had even planned what to do after rescuing her from her own stubbornness. He wasn't stupid enough to believe she'd be grateful for taking her away from the Keep before battle, but he never thought she'd refuse. But what to do after that... he simply hadn't got that far. The only safe place to go was east; to the north was Luskan territory, and the Spine of the World, with nothing but the Icewind Dale and glaciers near it. To the south was Meredelain, with its ruined towns of Redfallow's Watch and West Harbor, but death lay south. West would have been the preferable option, west across the Sea of Storms, but no ships remained in Neverwinter, and sailing across the sea would require going to the nearest port city -- Luskan or Waterdeep -- to find a ship large enough to cross the sea. To the east lay the wild lands, but the wild lands were surely safer than Luskan or the Mere. Not that it mattered anymore.

He let his legs carry him where they would, and ignored the Greycloaks he passed. Very rarely was he in the mood for talking, and even less so now. In truth, he barely even noticed when he passed people, so intent was he on his own thoughts. When a cold wind whipped his cloak around him, he shook his head, clearing it of thoughts, and looked around. He was, he realised, standing in the very place he'd been assigned to by Kail; atop the inner wall of the Keep, where he could snipe at enemies a hundred paces away on the outer walls. Not that he was intending to stick around long enough to witness the slaughter, of course. He was going to do what he always did; save his own life. Nobody would miss him. Kail obviously wouldn't.

_Ask me again, after the Guardian's been destroyed._

That didn't even mean anything, and he _certainly_ wouldn't ask her again. If she couldn't figure out that he needed to save her while her life was in danger, not after, then she didn't deserve to understand. What would be the point in asking her to leave when there was no danger, when there was nothing to save her from? That would prove nothing at all. She had to leave with him now or never. What was so hard to understand about that? And now it was too late. Too late to force her to go with him, too late to try and goad her into attacking him.

Or was it? He looked again at the wall and walked along it, until he came to a small room that had been built up around a stairwell. It was little more than a stone box on the wall designed to protect the stairwell and the gate beneath it. But what would happen if that gate ceased to work? The undead were bringing siege weapons, which probably included rams. They'd most likely try to breach the outer gate at the same time as sieging the walls. And Kail knew it, which was why she was leaving troops -- Greycloaks and lizardmen -- in the courtyard. But she also knew that if the battle turned against her, all those poor sheep would need somewhere to retreat to. The inner gate would remain open until the last person had retreated, and then it would close. Behind the inner walls the defenders would re-fortify. Though they would be trapped, they would be in a stronger position. They would have more troops per area of land, have less wall to defend. Of course, it also meant the shadow army would have less wall to attack. War was a double-edged sword.

But if the inner gate failed to drop once the last person had retreated, the defenders would be forced to disperse. They'd have to flee the Keep, and Kail would have to go with them. She'd be really, really angry with him. Angry enough to try to want to kill him. Angry enough to try. And when she did, he'd finally be able to kill her, and be done with her forever.


	102. He Cast No Shadow

_102. He Cast No Shadow_

History recorded the Battle of Crossroad Keep as a great victory for the forces of good. It spoke of the Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep giving a great speech that instilled the hearts of the men with courage and valour. It spoke of the defenders taking up their positions. It told of the great shadow army approaching, vast and lightless, for creatures of the night needed no light to see by, and indeed they feared it. History mentioned in great detail how Crossroad Keep had been fortified for this very battle. Along the walls, both inner and outer, at regular intervals braziers had been lit. The same braziers were also abound in the courtyard, where every Greycloak had been given a bow, regardless of whether he'd had any training with the weapon. Accuracy was not important here. It was impossible to shoot at the shadow army and miss.

When the creatures of darkness, pushing their tall siege towers, were a hundred paces from the wall, the order was given by the Knight-Captain herself. Arrows daubed in oil were nocked onto bows, and run across the braziers to ignite them. The first round of arrows flew high, over the walls and down upon the invading army. The creatures of darkness were packed so tightly together that almost every arrow found a mark, taking down zombies, ghasts and skeletons. But still the army came.

A second round of arrows followed the first, then a third. _Archers, keep firing. Soldiers, switch weapons._ The order came from the Knight-Captain, high upon the outer wall. Many who saw her, striding confidently to and fro, issuing orders with unnatural calm, said she was bathed in a silvery light, a light that encompassed both herself and the Sword in her hand. Even amongst the braziers, she shone brightly, a beacon of brilliant light, and it was said that where she was standing, the shadow army struck strongest, determined to extinguish the light of the Knight-Captain, determined to destroy that which they hated and feared above all else.

History went on to describe the siege itself; how the enemy towers advanced inexorably forward, how one was destroyed by magic before it even managed to reach the Keep, how the others latched onto the walls and spewed forth wraiths and ghouls and vampires from their dark bowels. The fighting upon the outer wall was fierce, and there was little the soldiers in the courtyard could do except watch as their Knight-Captain and her friends and allies fought to save their lives. But they did not have to stand idle for long. Crude battering rams, little more than hewn trees from the nearby forest, began pounding upon the outer gates of the Keep. Several men rushed forward, to press their own bodies against the door, but were called back by one of the Nine. Rams would crush flesh and bone far more easily than heavy wood.

One by one the siege towers fell, and stroke by stroke the gates of the Keep gave way. When they finally splintered, the shadow army poured into the courtyard, an unstoppable wave of evil no longer held back by the dam. The defenders in the courtyard fought a fierce battle, under the command of Kana and the Nine. They were aided by the Illefarn construct, and it heartened them to see the golem swarming with undead but still fighting on, just like the Knight-Captain on the walls above them.

History recorded how the people of Crossroad Keep, along with the lizardfolk and the dwarves of Clan Ironfist, fought together, shed blood together, and drove back the shadow army together. But it spoke little of the price that was paid for victory. By the time the shadow army was driven back, the dead and the dying littered the courtyard and hung from the walls, the impermeable stone red with pools of their blood. _At the great loss of life, the battle was won_, said History. But it did not name the brothers, the fathers and the sons who would never return home to their families. History recorded only a single loss that night, and it named him _Betrayer._

o - o - o - o - o

"Khelgar, Ammon! Take half of the Ironfists and dismantle that tower!" Kail called over the din of battle. Khelgar looked at her long enough to see her gesture at a siege tower which was about to reach the walls, and sped off with the warlock and a handful of dwarves behind him. Kail turned her attention back to her own fight, to the vampire Casavir was attacking as the dwarves with her hacked at ghouls and wraiths in a desperate attempt to reach the siege tower, whilst overhead fire and magic ignited the air.

The night smelt of death, of charred flesh and bone and of the decaying, diseased bodies which were crowding the Keep. The scent of it all make Kail want to retch, but instead she focused on battle, concentrated on breathing through her mouth instead of her nose. Down below from the courtyard she could hear the sounds of battle, and of orders being shouted by Kana, but she ignored everything that was happening down there. It was a distraction to her, and she couldn't afford to be distracted. She couldn't afford to hear the cries and pained screaming of the men who were cut down in defence of the Keep, so she numbed herself to it. As she had in West Harbor, whilst reforging the Sword, she pushed all of her feelings down inside herself, burying them with determination and focus, not letting them, and the dead men, affect her.

It was the determination that kept her going, now. The fighting had raged for almost an hour, and she was exhausted. Everything was catching up with her. Her months of trudging around the Sword Coast, of fighting for her life, her almost dying, of being weighed down with the responsibility of taking care of the Keep and running the lands around it... they seemed to be crushing her now that she needed to feel free of any burden. Her back still ached from sleeping over her desk, and she'd taken a cut to her left arm from a skeleton's rusty blade which now stung and felt as if it was on fire. It wasn't poisoned, she knew, because she was still standing, but she refrained from mentioning it to Casavir. His healing magic was best employed elsewhere, once the fighting was over.

A second vampire approached her whilst Casavir and the dwarves were in the thick of battle, and she froze. She instantly recognised its face; it was the female vampire which had almost drained her dry, and it was smiling at her with that same predatory, glassy expression. It moved almost sinuously, its hypnotic eyes drawing her in as it glided across the wall towards her. _Help me!_ she thought desperately. And something heard.

The Sword, which so far had been allowing her to wield it, took advantage of the invitation and chose to wield her instead. Though her mind was still a slush of incomprehensible thoughts and fear, the Sword knew what to do. It moved her body, controlling her like a puppet on strings. The vampire was wary, now; it seemed to sense something was wrong. Its movements became more jerky as it tried to decide what to do, and that was the moment the Sword chose to strike. It moved her forwards, bringing itself up in front of her as a guard. The vampire lashed out with its sharp-nailed hands, and the Sword made her step to the side. It lashed again, as quick as a viper, and she moved again. Then the Sword struck back; it raised her arm and impacted the vampire's neck. It turned her on the spot, and sliced cleanly through the creature. As the vampire's head rolled away and its body dropped to the floor, Kail wrested control of herself away from the Sword, and stood panting and nauseous.

"Argh!" The cry of pain grabbed her attention, and she saw Khulmar surrounded by ghasts, separated from his clansmen. Despite the aches she felt in every muscle and even some bones, she rushed forward and into the fray. The first ghast didn't see her coming, but the second turned as its neighbour fell. It lashed out at her, and she tried to evade, but her limbs felt sluggish. It cost her another slash, this one to her shoulder, which tore through her clothes and ripped her skin. By the time she'd turned and run it through with the Sword, a ghoul had joined in the fight, and Khulmar was fighting two ghasts and the ghoul, his axe a blur of motion in his experienced hands. Then, an arrow came whistling from the direction of the inner walls, and pierced one of the ghasts through the head. Kail chanced a brief look, and Neeshka waved at her. With a grim smile, Kail fought on.

Soon, she could barely see anything around her. Each time a siege tower was destroyed by magic or fire, it burnt slowly, sending clouds of thick black smoke sweeping over the walls, which was the way the wind was blowing. _I asked for __**favourable**__ winds!_ she thought to Shaundakul, sure he wasn't listening. She heard a sound behind her, and narrowly avoided decapitating Khulmar, who was struggling with his vision as much as she was. Not far away, she could hear Casavir and the other Ironfists fighting on, but she didn't want to risk running into battle and taking them by surprise in case they thought she was an enemy.

"Kail, lass!" shouted Khelgar. She looked up. Though she couldn't see Khelgar himself, she could see the glow of his weapon; silver lightning was crackling across the head of the mighty warhammer. Beside him, she saw another fiery red glow that could only have been Ammon with his warmace. This, she realised, was both an advantage and a disadvantage. Nobody would mistake her, with her glowing silver sword, or Khelgar or Ammon with their enchanted weapons, for enemies. But at the same time, the enemy troops would be drawn to them as the only visible things on the walls. "Kail, there's one more siege tower somewhere, by my count, but I can't see it anywhere!"

"Don't worry, it will show up sooner or later," she shouted back. Then she was forced back into battle as two wraiths appeared to harass her and Khulmar. She was still fighting them when she heard a nearby thudding sound, and felt her heart beat faster. The last tower had latched onto the wall. "Sand, Qara!" she shouted as loud as possible. "There's another tower somewhere near me." She knew the others on the inner wall would only see the light of her Sword, but it would have to be enough.

A spread of fiery missiles came flying through the air in a neat line, followed by another, and another. It wasn't an efficient use of magic - most of the missiles missed, and went flying over the walls and out into the night - but it was the only chance of them hitting anything in the smoky darkness, she realised. And sure enough, a couple of the missiles _did_ hit their marks. The tower, which was a dozen or so paces away from Kail, began to smoulder, discharging more black smoke. She finished off the wraith she was fighting, then walked cautiously towards the embers, bright on the tower. It was like being inside a nightmare; every pace or so an undead creature popped up, and only the fast reaction of the Sword saved her life. Her arms and legs were aching so much that she suspected had she been wielding anything except the Sword of Gith, she would probably be dead by now.

When she'd finally fought her way to the siege tower, with Khulmar by her side, she found it swarming with undead. They'd seemed to sense this was their last chance to breach the upper walls, and a flood of wraiths, zombies and skeletons had come rushing out of the tower, forming a defensive ring around it. Several vampires, meanwhile, had taken to the sky, and were streaking towards the inner walls. But Kail could do nothing about those now, so she picked a target and began to fight again. When it fell she picked another and another, until she could barely move without stumbling over a corpse. There was a cessation in magic overhead, and she suspected Qara and Sand had had to refocus on the vampires. For long moments the sky remained dark, and then lit up again with magic. The vampires, it seemed, were gone. Kail began gasping with the effort of fighting. She took deep breaths, trying to draw air into her lungs, but finding mostly smoke and ash. And, just as she was about to suggest falling back to find cleaner air to Khulmar, there came the sound of splintering wood from the tower as it became dislodged and fell slowly backwards. The knowledge that the last tower had fallen heartened the defenders on the wall. A dwarven cheer arose, and the undead were pushed back. The fighting was no less fierce in the courtyard, but at least now the undead wouldn't be able to scale the walls and attack from two fronts.

"I think that was the last of them over here!" Khelgar called at last.

"It seems clear here too," added Casavir, somewhere not far away.

"I think we've got them all," said Keros.

"Has anybody got any fresh air?" Kail called, coughing. She heard Khulmar spluttering behind her too.

"The air is clear over here," said Casavir. Kail grabbed Khulmar's shirt and set off in the direction of Casavir. It wasn't difficult; she simply followed the wall until the air cleared, and she found him surrounded by soot-blackened, bloody dwarves. She looked down at her own clothes and realised she didn't look any better. Her shirt was black with ash and red with blood, most of it her own, and her trousers were dusty and sooty. Even Casavir's armour had been tarnished with dark ash, and his face wasn't much lighter than his hair.

"It looks like the fighting's still going on in the courtyard," said Keros, leaning over the wall and peering down at the battle below. The invaders were immediately beneath them, pouring in through the now permanently open gate. In the courtyard, Greycloaks and lizardfolk were battling ferociously. In their midst was Kana and several of the Nine, forming rings of empty space around themselves as they cut down everything within reach. The floor was thick with bodies on both sides.

"We need to go and help them," said Kail. What she _wanted_ was to sink to the floor and rest her weary legs, but she hadn't come all this way to give up now. She would fight this battle for the people of West Harbor. And she would win.

"Race ye down!" said Khelgar. And, to Kail's horror, he launched himself over a low crenellation in the wall, letting gravity do the rest. She dashed to the wall in time to see him landing in the thick of the shadow army; the weight of his fall bore a handful of them to the ground, and he was standing in an instant, the Hammer of Ironfist whirling in his hands as he carved his way through the undead towards the defenders.

"Damn show-off," Keros grumbled. Then he, too, jumped over the wall, landing on soft undead bodies. Khulmar and the rest of the dwarves followed a heartbeat later, all of them landing on the enemy forces, none of them with a single broken bone, as impossible as it seemed.

"Let's use the stairs," she said, glancing at Casavir. He nodded, and she took a step towards the far side of the wall, but was stopped when he grabbed her arm. Before she could even open her mouth to demand an explanation, she felt healing magic washing through her body, cleansing her aching muscles and joints, knitting up the itchy cuts in her flesh from undead claws and weapons.

"I knew you would say no if I asked," he said by way of explanation.

"Thank you," she said. He nodded again, his icy-blue eyes fervent and animated by battle. She understood, then, what Elanee saw in him.

"Let me go first. If we're going to wade into the middle of a battlefield, someone with armour should bear the brunt of the attack." She wanted to say no, to tell him that she _had_ to go first, but his grip on her arm was firm, and she suspected he wouldn't let go until she agreed, effectively keeping her out of the fighting.

"We need to get to Kana," she told him. "Then we can order the Greycloaks to fall back to the inner walls, and fortify ourselves there."

"I know what needs to be done. Stay close to me. I'll make sure you reach Kana, even if it's the last thing I ever do."

He released her arm and strode away, leaving her feeling nauseous again. He was _determined_ to protect her, and she wondered if he would be so vehement about it if she were anybody else but her. Quickly realising she had no choice but to follow, she hurried after him and they descended into the dark stairwell. Down and round the stairs wound, and when Kail stepped out of the stairwell she realised it wasn't all that much lighter. There was less smoke and ash down here, which was a small favour, but the fighting was far heavier than it looked from above. Casavir was already swinging his hammer around at a ghoul that approached, and the Sword of Gith was brought into action almost immediately.

Heeding Casavir's words, she kept close to him, following him slowly through the fighting and guarding his back. From all around her she heard curses shouted in dwarven, and realised the Ironfists, too, were hacking their way towards Kana. It was a battle that could have gone on for minutes or hours. Kail lost all track of time as she fought every enemy that rose up in front of her, until it seemed all she'd ever done was cut down undead monsters. When Casavir finally stopped, she almost ran into the back of him, and for a moment she didn't even recognise the blood-covered woman in front of her. When she realised they'd actually reached Kana, she sank to the ground with a laugh. Her aching muscles simply _couldn't_ go on anymore.

From the direction of the inner walls came a glowing white light, and the swarm of undead parted to admit Zhjaeve, who was surrounded by the light of positive energy being channelled through her body. The undead fled from her, hissing and groaning in pain when the light touched them. Kail knew that she should stand up, that being on the floor was just showing the Greycloaks and everybody else how weak she was, but she couldn't. Her legs felt like jelly, and the Sword was held loosely in her aching hand, its light dimmed.

"Kalach-cha, what is wrong?" Zhjaeve demanded. Once more, Kail felt healing magic wash over her. It took away the aches and the pains, but it couldn't rid her entirely of her tiredness. She was, she realised, operating on borrowed energy. Her body had simply had enough of her punishment, and demanded time to rest and grow strong. But time was one thing she didn't have, so she used the Cleansing ritual of Arvahn to fool her body into thinking everything was fine, and cautiously pushed herself to her feet, feeling wobbly as a child taking its first steps.

"I'm so tired, Zhjaeve," she admitted.

"I know, Kalach-cha. And soon you will be able to rest. But first we must finish what has been started. We must put an end to the King of Shadows. Know that I believe in you, and I believe you will succeed."

"We're pushing them back, lass!" Khelgar shouted from two dozen paces away. Looking around, she saw he was right. Some of the undead were fleeing, and the smoke from the burning towers was now blowing out towards the plains, away from the Keep. The wind, she realised, had shifted, as it often did before dawn. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to Shaundakul.

"Captain," said Kana. "They're retreating now, but they **will** be back with a stronger force, and the outer gate has been destroyed. We can't expect to hold them forever, even at a bottleneck. We need to buy Aldanon more time to find a way to breach the Claimed Lands."

"Order the Greycloaks and lizardfolk to fall back to the inner keep," she said. "Khelgar and the Ironfist clan can cover the retreat."

"Come, Kalach-cha," said Zhjaeve, leading her gently by the arm. "Sal has a large glass of brandy for you. Know that it may do more for you now that my magic can."

She let Zhjaeve pull her away from the fighting, back into the inner courtyard of the keep. There, Sal was indeed waiting with a large glass of brandy, and she took it gratefully. She gulped her first mouthful down, ignoring the way it burnt her throat as it travelled to her stomach. She felt its effects almost immediately; she was more relaxed, now, less weary than she had been. Still tired, still exhausted, but she thought she could manage it now. She took another large sip, and turned to watch the retreat. The last of the Greycloaks were coming in through the inner gate, followed closely by the Ironfists. The lizardmen were already inside the inner walls, and there wasn't an undead creature within sight, other than the piles of them that littered the floor of the outer courtyard.

"The sun will be rising soon," said Kana. Though the woman's clothes were black and blood-stained, she still sounded hopeful, and fit for another five days of fighting.

"Know that the sun will not harm these undead," said Zhjaeve. "They are unlike any I have ever seen before."

"That may be true, but our own troops will fight better by daylight."

"Kana," said Kail, "if that's all of our troops returned, get the inner gates closed."

"Aye, Captain." She wandered off to collar two Greycloaks, and sent them running up the stairwell to the top of the inner wall. Kail, meanwhile, took a look out over the outer courtyard. The undead weren't the only bodies to litter the floor. Innumerable grey-clad forms, silent and still, lay amongst the fallen undead. Here and there, a green lizardfolk body could be seen amongst the sea of grey. How many men had died here today? How many graves would they have to dig tomorrow, if tomorrow even came?

"This is not your fault," said Casavir, stepping up beside her to survey the scene beyond the walls. "They were soldiers. They knew what they were signing up for, and they died fighting for what they believed in." She said nothing. What _was_ there to say? War, death and murder were not just a part of humanity, but a part of the very world in which they lived. People had to die. She just wished they didn't have to die for _her_. She just wished she was far away from here, that she didn't have to deal with any of this. But she did, and these deaths would live with her forever.

"Captain!" called one of the Greycloaks from atop the walls. "The gates won't close!"

"I'll send someone else up to take a look," Kana sighed.

"Check amongst the dwarves," Kail suggested. "They're quite good with mechanical things. If not, tell Grobnar to take a look."

"Don't waste your time," said a sneering voice. She turned to see Bishop approaching from the stairwell; no doubt he'd come down from his sniping place as soon as things looked safe enough for him. Behind her, she heard Casavir grumble something too quietly for her to hear.

"What do you mean?" she asked, too tired to play games.

"What I mean, _Captain_, is that you'd only be wasting time by sending someone up to check the gate mechanism. I took some pretty important parts out of it, and jammed the rest as best I could. I don't think it's going to be fixed any time soon."

"What?" She watched him for any sign that he was joking or playing a trick on her, but there was none. He was deadly serious, and his gold eyes gave her no clue as to what he was thinking.

"I gave you a chance to leave, and you should have taken it. Now you won't stop the shadow army from getting in here. This Keep will fall, just as I said it would. I recommend you stay on the walls... you might survive that way."

She listened emotionlessly to his explanation. All of the things that should have been there - anger, outrage, disgust - were gone. She ought to feel _something_, but she still felt empty. Her feelings were still locked away inside of her, where they couldn't stand in the way of her duty. But the same couldn't be said for everyone else. There were angry murmurs from those around her, and Casavir stepped towards Bishop with his weapon raised.

"I'm calling my price," he said, his eyes fixed on hers, ignoring how dangerously close Casavir was getting.

"Casavir, stop," she said. And, for a wonder, he did. He stopped mid-stride, with his weapon ready to strike, but he stopped. "Name it quickly."

"I'm going to walk out of here, and you aren't going to stop me. None of your little Greycloaks are going to shoot me in the back as I leave, and you aren't going to send anybody to track me down," said Bishop. He watched her as she considered it. If she wanted, she could probably find a loophole, a way to either stop him from leaving or to send someone to find him and bring him back. But she was simply too tired to try. Besides, he'd just changed the rules of the game. That meant in future, the rules didn't apply._ 'Why?'_, she wanted to ask, but didn't.

"Alright," she said. "If that's the price, I'll pay it."

"Your word?"

"You can leave freely, and nobody will go after you."

"Kail-" Casavir said angrily.

"I said he can go," she reiterated. "If you want to stop him, you'll have to go too."

Casavir didn't object again, and Bishop ignored him as he walked forward and stopped in front of Kail. "I strongly suggest," he said quietly, "that when you find a way into the Claimed Lands, you come alone. I'll be seeing you."

"Is that the best than you can do?" she asked, with a ghost of a smile on her lips, though she had no idea why she found it amusing. He ignored her question and left the Keep, and as soon as he was out of sight she turned back to Kana. "We need to find some other way to fortify the inner courtyard," he said.

"I'll see what I can do, Captain," said Kana, then dashed off to speak to Nevalle.

"Kail-" Casavir began, but she raised a hand to stall him.

"Don't talk," she said. Glowering, he stomped off, leaving her alone with Zhjaeve. For a moment, she merely watched the githzerai who watched her back, with large, pale, luminous eyes that said they knew too much. "What is it?" she sighed.

"Know that you are not entering the Claimed Lands alone, Kalach-cha."

"I know," she said, feeling the weariness setting in again. "Naïve I may be, but I'm not stupid."

o - o - o - o - o

Outside Crossroad Keep, Bishop made a beeline for the trees. It was where the undead had attacked from during the night. He'd seen them, pouring out of the forest in waves. And he'd also seen a familiar face amongst the throngs of wraiths, zombies, skeletons, ghasts and vampires, and this had given him an idea. His new plan was even better than his old plan, which admittedly had been a bit sketchy to begin with. He hadn't been sure how to get Kail to follow him so that he could kill her. He worried she'd go tearing off after the King of Shadows, because her hatred of the thing that had destroyed her home and friends would be greater than her hatred of him for sabotaging the Keep that she had never even wanted. Now, he wasn't worried about it. In fact, he was counting on it.

_Where are we going?_ The thought came from Karnwyr, who was a few miles away, a safe distance from the shadow army.

_To Meredelain,_ he thought back.

_No._ Bishop stopped in his tracks. Karnwyr had **never** said 'no' before. He'd expressed his displeasure or distaste, he'd made suggestions and tried to reason with him, but he'd never outright refused to go along with one of Bishop's plans.

_No?_

_I don't want to be pack with the shadow-walkers. I don't want to leave Alpha._

_Don't worry, we'll be seeing her again soon,_ he assured the wolf. Then, with any luck, she'd be gone from his life forever.

_I can't go with you._

_ You're leaving?_

_ You're leaving. I'm staying._

_ You don't want to be in my pack anymore?_

_ I do. But where you go, I can't follow._ For the first time in his life, he detected sadness from the wolf.

_But who will watch my back? And where will you go? Back to __**her**__?_

_ You will watch your own back, as you did before we were pack. I won't go back to her. You are my pack-brother, and without you, she isn't Alpha. I will go to find wolves. We will fight the shadow-walkers even when the two-legs are gone._

_ But I have a plan_, he thought desperately. _You have to trust me._

_ Goodbye, pack-brother._

And with that final thought, Bishop found himself cut off from Karnwyr's mind completely. It was as if he'd lost his most important limb. His hearing grew dull, and his sense of smell faded. The land around him, which had been crystal clear in the pre-morning haze, became blurry and unfocused. But the greatest loss was the loss of knowledge that he was part of something much greater than himself. He could still move in the world and through it, but he was no longer a part of it. He could no longer feel his body moving in tune with the land around him, no longer knew each tree, every blade of grass, no longer heard the song of the gushing stream. It was as if half of his soul had been ripped away, leaving him feeling empty.

He carried on walking toward the forest. Karnwyr's decision had been final. Now, he was on his own again, as he hadn't been in many years. But he had to stick to his plan. It was the only thing that seemed real to him now. And maybe, when all this was done, he could find another wolf to be his pack-mate. He pushed away the fear that no other wolf would want him, that any other wolf except Karnwyr would be a pale imitation.

As he entered the forest, he became aware that he was being followed. His senses were still good, if not wolf-sharp, and he knew that creatures of the night were following his progress. His suspicions were confirmed when a vampire, which may once have been a beautiful woman but was now an empty, soulless husk, stepped from behind a tree, blocking his path.

"My, my," it said, licking its lips. "I'm not used to breakfast wandering before me."

"Take me to your master," he said. He wasn't afraid. Not when half of him had just been torn away, leaving him a shadow of his former self.

"My master doesn't eat, breakfast," the vampire purred as it approached him. "But I do."

"I have a proposition for your master. One that he'll want to hear."

"Then perhaps I'll turn you, and let you give it to him once you see things from _my_ point of view."

"You could. But then my proposition would be useless. And once he hears how you've ruined the plan, he won't be happy with you."

The vampire hissed in vexation, but turned and walked deeper into the forest. He took this as an invitation to follow, but kept a healthy distance between himself and the undead woman. The forest she led him through was both familiar and different. The trees, so familiar to him, were dying. They were simply rotting where they stood, and their trunks were being slowly covered by dark fungi. He tried not to breathe too deeply, to avoid inhaling any poisonous spores, as he followed his guide. And at last she led him to his goal.

"Well isn't this a surprise?" said Garius. The undead wizard's skull was pale white, and his whole body was glowing with a magical aura. He was surrounded by black shadows and shadow-fiends, with their glowing red eyes. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"He comes with a proposition, or so he claims," the vampire said petulantly.

"Then by all means, let's hear it."

"You need somebody to kill the Knight-Captain," Bishop said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. "You don't seem capable of doing it yourself. How many times have you tried now? Two? Three?"

"Get to the point," said Garius angrily.

"Give me safe passage into the Claimed Lands. When the Knight-Captain gets there, I'll kill her."

"This seems a rather one-sided proposition. What do you expect in return?"

"I expect you not to interfere. I have to be the one to kill her. Me. Not you. Afterwards... I go free."

"And what makes you think _you_ can kill her, where I, with all of my power and abilities, have failed?" Garius sounded amused.

"Because I've travelled with her and fought with her for the past few months. I know her strengths and her weaknesses. I know how she thinks and the rules she plays by. And, more importantly, I can get close to her. She'll let me get close enough to kill her just to prove that she can. That's why you've failed, and why I'll succeed."

"I think it far more likely that this is a plan concocted between the two of you to get you close to me. Then, when my back is turned, you'll strike at me instead. I think perhaps I'll let the vampires have their way with you." The female vampire ran a pale tongue over its grey lips.

"Then you'll fail," he said quickly. "Because throwing someone to the enemy like this would be something _you_ would do, but Kail would rather sacrifice herself than ask someone to take a risk for her. That's why you've failed every time so far. You can't think like anybody but you, and that makes you a poor strategist." _And an even poorer assassin,_ he thought silently. That seemed to give Garius pause.

"I don't believe you," said the undead wizard at last. "Fortunately for you, the choice is not mine. I will take you into the Claimed Lands, and you will repeat your offer to my master. If he believes it to be genuine, you may carry out your plan. If he thinks you are lying, or trying to deceive him... the vampires will be well-fed before your precious Knight-Captain arrives."


	103. Nightwalker

_103. Nightwalker_

The dawn, fresh and bright, seemed to belie the massacre that had taken place at the Keep less than an hour ago. Nothing distinguished this dawn from any other. The sky wasn't red and ominous, the refreshing wind didn't bring the scent of death, portentous crows did not fly overhead, calling out the names of the dead. It wasn't right, Kail thought, that such a terrible tragedy should go unnoticed by nature. Sitting on the ground outside the inn, she watched the people around her working. Nobody stopped to talk to her. Kana had made it clear to everybody that the Knight-Captain wanted to be alone. And then Zhjaeve had made it even clearer that the Knight-Captain needed peace and quiet to recover her strength.

The outer courtyard was burning. That had been Kana's idea. The bodies lying on the ground were a liability; the King of Shadows could raise them, and use them in its army. But they didn't have time to dig graves for all the men who had died throughout the night, so she'd had all the bodies piled together and poured oil over them. Now, any undead trying to access the main entrance of the inner courtyard would have to go through a wall of fire.

Whilst Kana had organised the burning of the bodies, Nevalle had seen to the defences of the courtyard. Tables had been dragged out of every building and even the Keep itself, and turned on their sides in a protective semi-circle around the open gate. They were crude barriers, but they were something the defenders could duck behind for a moment's protection, and they were all they had. In addition to the tables, oil had been poured across the entrance to the inner courtyard, ready to be ignited when she gave the word.

She heard the sound of quiet footsteps behind her, then a pair of long arms were thrown around her shoulders and she was squeezed tightly.

"Kail, I'm _so_ sorry," said Neeshka.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she said, patting the tiefling's arm. Neeshka let go and moved around to sit beside her.

"Yes, I do. I'm normally a really good judge of character. I should have seen this coming."

"You're not _that_ good a judge of character. Remember Leldon?"

"Alright, so sometimes I get it wrong," said Neeshka with a grimace. "Still, if I'd known he was going to do something like this, I never would have... I mean... can you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive," she replied with a tired smile. She really didn't want to talk about it. Being somewhat in denial was how she was coping, how she was getting from one moment to the next. She couldn't let herself dwell on things. Not on the men who had died last night, not on the corpses which were burning, unburied and not prayed for, not on Bishop's actions or his words... the moment she let herself be affected by them was the moment she let reality in, and she didn't think she could deal with reality right now. Not when she still had her duty in front of her.

"Uhoh," said Neeshka, narrowing her eyes at something. Kail followed her gaze and saw Casavir approaching. He looked determined, which probably wasn't a good sign.

"May we talk for a moment?" he asked her, stopping in front of the pair.

"I'll go and make myself useful," said Neeshka. She stood, stretched, and sauntered casually away, but for once, Casavir ignored her.

"What's on your mind?" she asked him.

"I need to know how you're going to deal with Bishop. Zhjaeve told me what he said, that you should 'come alone' to the Claimed Lands. You know that means he'll be waiting for you."

"One fight at a time, Casavir," she sighed. "First I'll deal with the King of Shadows. Then I'll deal with everything else."

"Forgive me, but you may not have that luxury. It's far more likely we'll encounter Bishop again _before_ we locate the King of Shadows, and your judgement has proved less than sound in the past where he is concerned."

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

"You seem remarkably unconcerned about this. He betrayed not only you, but Neverwinter itself."

"I'm sure he had his reasons," she shrugged.

"His reasons?" Casavir was angry now. She could tell, because his voice was tight and his cold blue eyes were practically shooting daggers at her. "What reason could there possibly be for helping the shadow army gain access to this Keep?"

"I don't know, but I'll be sure to ask him when I see him."

"Captain!" Kana's voice carried a note of urgency as the woman approached from the outer courtyard. "The shadow army is on the move again. It's coming back for another try, and it's full of those larger undead which aren't affected by the light."

"Pull everybody back into the courtyard. Get them behind Nevalle's defences," she said, pushing herself tiredly to her feet.

"You should know," said Casavir, "that Lord Nasher has instructed Sir Nevalle and the rest of the Nine to escort you and Ammon, along with Aldanon, to safety, should the Keep fall."

"I thought he'd do something like that. Thanks for letting me know."

"You should also know that I won't allow Bishop to get away with what he has done."

"We will all do as we must," she said calmly. She wasn't going to argue about this now with him.

When she reached Nevalle, who was standing behind an overturned table, she took a deep breath and looked around at the defences. Every able warrior was packed tightly into the courtyard, with a weapon in his hand. Scattered amongst the mass of grey was the occasional lizardfolk warrior or Ironfist dwarf. Archers lined the walls, ready to shoot fiery arrows into the undead army. Qara, Sand, Neeshka and Elanee were with them, but Zhjaeve had opted to stay close to Kail this time. Grobnar was not far away, checking the spells on the golem's armour. Casavir, Khelgar and Ammon were standing behind her, waiting calmly for the enemy to arrive. Kana had taken her place amongst a knot of Greycloaks, and Bevil, Light of Heavens, Katriona and Jalboun were spaced out evenly behind her, commanding small groups of Greycloaks themselves. On the opposite side of the courtyard, the remaining members of the Nine, minus Nevalle who was beside Kail, were spread out amongst the troops, ready to defend or issue orders as necessary. Sal and Deekin were standing behind the army, with Daeghun beside them. Her foster-father nodded at her, an unspoken confirmation that he believed in her. The injured soldiers had been taken into the Keep by Lord Nasher, who still hadn't completely recovered from his own defeat.

The courtyard was silent. She didn't make a speech. Not this time. She'd already said everything she needed to say. Everybody knew they had to hold out until the Lord's Alliance could arrive, as impossible as that seemed. Nobody spoke as they waited for the enemy to show itself. The only sound was the stamping of hooves from the horses of the mounted men, and even that sounded muted. In that moment, she was proud of everybody around her. They'd fought fiercely through the night, they'd taken losses, but nobody was throwing down their weapons and fleeing in terror. They faced possible death, but everybody, Greycloaks, lizardfolk and Ironfists alike, was determined to meet it with their heads held high.

When the shadow army finally showed itself, Garius was at its head. Kail was surprised; in the past, he'd been reluctant to meet her head-on. Normally he sent his minions to stop her, whilst he himself sat back and watched from a distance, or fled to somewhere safer. That he was here, now, meant that he was sure of his victory. Or that he had a trick up his sleeve. The fire in the outer courtyard dissipated with one wave of his arms, opening a channel through the flames through which he could pass. And behind Garius came a cadre of vampires and huge wraiths, which weren't affected by the dawn's light in the slightest. Kail waited for him to enter the inner courtyard. If she could get him inside before lighting the oil doused over the ground, she could cut him off from the rest of his army.

When he reached the middle of the inner courtyard, Garius stopped, and glanced around at the defences, his skeletal faced fixed into a deathly grin. Kail was, she realised, angry. Not with the King of Shadows, but with Garius. The King of Shadows had once been a man who wanted to do the right thing. But the folly of man had forced the Illefarn Guardian to become the King of Shadows, all those centuries ago. And now the folly of _this_ man, of the person who had once styled himself the 'Master of the Fifth Tower', who in reality was nothing more than a puppet on a string, had resulted in hundreds of deaths. The Guardian was an unfeeling construction. It didn't choose to become the King of Shadows. But Garius _did_ choose to become a greedy, spiteful, corrupt man. And because of his greed, West Harbor, Fort Locke and Highcliff had been destroyed, and men and women up and down the breadth of Neverwinter's territory had lost their lives. Right now, what Kail wanted more than anything else in the world, was to rip off Garius' head with her bare hands and use the Sword of Gith to hack it into tiny pieces. She wanted to destroy the remnants of the man who had taken everything from her.

"You've put up a brave fight, Kail Farlong," said Garius when he spied her. "But your days of fighting end here. As you can see, my minions no longer fear the light. Such is the power of my master that I can make them immune to the scorching rays of the sun with a mere thought."

"You never get tired of hearing your own voice, do you?" she replied.

"I know that your words are nothing but a front, a false bravado for the benefit of your men. I know the fear that lives in your heart." She doubted it. All of her fear had been pushed aside by anger and hatred so strong that it felt like her whole body was on fire. "I've come to reclaim my Keep. If you return it to me, I'll let you and all of your people leave. If I have to take it by force, which I hope I will, I will kill every man, woman and child here, and use their bodies as fodder for my master's army."

"I wouldn't make a deal with you even if I thought you could be trusted to keep it."

"Very well. My master waits in the shadows on the edge of this tiny world, but his avatar should be more than enough to finish you and your little army." And with that, Garius raised his arms and began to chant in a language she didn't recognise. The wraiths and vampires surged forwards.

"Ignite the oil!" Kail shouted as the Sword of Gith sprang to life in her hand. A dozen fiery arrows sped towards the ground, which erupted in an explosion of flame. One of the vampires was caught by the blast, and it turned to mist as its body burnt to dust. A wraith was also burnt; it screeched as the flames licked its barely corporeal form.

"I will read Garius' true name!" Zhjaeve called. Kail, together with Khelgar and Casavir, ran towards Garius, to stop him from completing whatever spell or ritual he was performing. When she was five paces away, she raised the Sword of Gith and prepared to throw herself at the undead wizard. But as soon as her feet left the floor, she hit an invisible barrier and was thrown backwards, followed a heartbeat later by Khelgar and Casavir. She landed badly on her shoulder and gave a yelp of pain as she skidded along the floor and her skin was scratched on the bare ground. Before she could recover, there was a flash of purple light, and a huge, dark form began to coalesce in the middle of the courtyard. Kail quickly hauled herself to her feet and jumped over a nearby table, letting herself fall to the ground behind it. Then she peered out at whatever Garius had summoned; it looked like a shadow, only it was three times taller than any shadow she had ever seen, and its eyes were white instead of red. Its fingers and toes were little more than sharp talons, and dark spikes ran across its shoulders and down its spine. If Garius was telling the truth, then this thing was an avatar of the King of Shadows. It didn't look much like a construct, but then, Ammon had said that the golem was simply the King of Shadows' outer body - the body of the Guardian. If that was destroyed, it would reveal the King of Shadows in its true form.

Either Zhjaeve hadn't see the avatar for, or she was ignoring it. Her eyes were on the scroll of True Names as she spoke the words out loud. The avatar immediately singled her out; it took two huge steps towards her, raised its arm, and swiped at her with the back of its hand. The scroll fell from Zhjaeve's fingers as she was thrown a dozen feet through the air, hitting the side of the Keep before crumpling to the ground.

"Hey, you!" Khelgar shouted angrily from across the courtyard. "Why don't ye pick on someone yer own size!" The he sprinted towards the avatar and used the Hammer of Ironfist to pound at its kneecaps. Before the hammer hit, the avatar flickered, becoming incorporeal, and the weapon simply whistled harmlessly through its body. Then the avatar raised its fist again, knocking Khelgar into a nearby group of Greycloaks who were trying to deal with two vampires.

"Until it's been weakened, only the Sword of Gith or powerful magic will hurt it!" Ammon shouted. Kail glanced at him, and saw him taking out his own True Name scroll, ignoring the lizardfolk around him as they fought a group of shadows and wraiths.

"I'll distract it" Casavir said, stepping forward.

"Oh no you won't," said Garius. The skeletal wizard thrust out his hand in Casavir's direction, and the paladin was enveloped in a bubble of darkness that lifted him in the ground and caused him to scream in pain, before throwing him clear over one of the tables and into Light of Heavens.

_We weren't prepared for this!_ Kail thought as she launched herself over the table she'd been crouching behind. If only the Sword could hurt the avatar, then she'd have to distract both it _and_ Garius, to give Ammon time to read the wizard's name from the scroll. Fortunately, she wasn't alone. From above, lightning rained down, flashing towards Garius like silver javelins. At the last moment, Garius lifted his arms, causing the lightning to strike the ground around him, as if redirected by a powerful shield. Meanwhile, a fire elemental had been conjured in the courtyard, and bolts of fire and ice struck the shadowy body of the avatar.

She got the impression that the avatar wasn't in complete control of its body, or perhaps the rush of activity around it was confusing it. It didn't see her coming, nor did it see the Sword flashing in her hands. She felt the blade strike true, into the avatar's leg, but the thing didn't cry in pain, and it barely reacted at all. She wondered if it could even _feel_ pain. If not, then distracting it would be difficult. When the avatar turned on the spot, looking for her to strike at, she moved around it, and sliced it again with the Sword. Each time it turned, she moved with it, striking when it stopped. Until something heavy hit her from behind, knocking the Sword from her grasp and wresting her to the floor. She managed to wriggle onto her back, and found herself looking up into the cold, predatory eyes of a vampire. It had been a man, once; an attractive young man with long dark hair. It stared hungrily at her throat, and lowered its head to her neck as her heart tried to jump out of her chest.

She felt her body suffused with heat, and the next instant dragon-fire erupted from her, so hot that the vampire didn't burn or even melt; it was simply vapourised on the spot, destroyed completely. Ignoring the dizziness she felt, and her stomach's desire to empty its contents, she rolled over and crawled across the floor, towards the place where the Sword of Gith had come to rest after its fall. She didn't see the avatar swinging its leg back as it aimed its foot at her. All she felt was her skin turn hard and stiff with a coating of iron, and then she was flying through the air. Her flight seemed to last a split second and a short eternity, and then she crashed into a table and went sprawling to the ground.

"I said pick on someone yer own size!" Khelgar shouted from not far away. Though her vision was blurry from the impact with the table, she saw a squat figure rushing towards the avatar with its silver-shining hammer held high.

_No, Khelgar!_ she thought as she tried to stand. _It has to be me!_ The Sword was still lying on the ground, and she rushed towards it. A body fell in front of her; its blue eyes wore a look of surprise beneath flowing golden locks of hair, and a slim hand clasped at its throat which had been slashed open. _Shandra!_ thought Kail, her heart pounding with fear. Then she remembered Shandra was already dead; it was Katriona on the ground, and as the women took her last gasp of breath and turned her glassy eyes to the sky, Kail felt sick. She jumped over the woman's body and picked up the Sword, then headed for the nearest table, which she jumped over and ducked behind. Gods, Katriona had been a skilled fighter. A veteran! If she could die, what chance did anybody else have?

There was movement behind her, and she jumped as a blue-cloaked, blood-soaked figure crouched down beside her. Nevalle's sandy coloured hair was red from a split in his scalp, and his left arm had been cut to the bone. His face was pained, and he was gasping for breath.

"We're losing the battle," he said, his eyes pleading with her to understand. "It's time to go."

"We can't lose the battle," she said. "We **can't**!"

"Take a look around you, Captain. It's over!"

She looked, and saw that he was right. The fire at the gates had gone out; zombies, skeletons and ghasts were pouring into the courtyard. The fighting was worst amongst the troops, which were being set upon by the shadow army. She'd avoided the worst of it by staying close to the avatar, which nobody else dared approach. Even as she watched she saw Khelgar and Keros picked up by the avatar and thrown against the walls of the Keep like rag-dolls. Neither of them got up. Both Casavir and Zhjaeve were lying still where they had fallen. She saw a vampire lunge for Sir Darmon, wrapping its arms around his body as it lowered its fanged mouth to his neck and bore him to the ground. She saw Bevil and a Greycloak knocked down by three large skeletons. Kana was fighting a group of zombies with her curved sword, but no matter how many she cut down, more replaced them. Jalboun was fighting back to back with Light of Heavens; both were blood-soaked and moved wearily. Several vampires, meanwhile, had found their way into the stairwell and were on the walls, picking off Greycloak archers as Sand, Elanee and Qara tried desperately to fend them off, and Neeshka fought hand to hand with a tall skeleton. Grobnar's flute was loud enough to be heard over the din, but all too often his notes faltered as he lost his concentration, and enchantments he was trying to weave failed again and again. A handful of Greycloaks, lizardmen and Ironfists were trying desperately to protect Ammon as he read the True Name scroll, but they were out-matched by the ghouls and wraiths that harassed them.

Nevalle was right, but he didn't understand. She couldn't run. If she ran now, she would run forever. If she ran now, it would break her. If she ran now, she would never have the courage to face the Guardian again. _Victory or death_, she thought. Victory or death were the only ways to be free.

"We can't lose the battle," she said again. Then, before Nevalle could stop her, she summoned what little strength she had left and vaulted over the table. The Sword of Gith sprang to life in her hands. _It's just the two of us now, Sword. Just you and me. Do for me what you did for Gith when you freed her people from the enslavement of the illithids._

In her mind's eye, she saw what she had to do. The Sword showed her an old memory, of something she had once read in a book, of something the Sword itself remembered from an age long past. Silver Swords could be used to cut the silver cords of plane-travelling creatures or astral projectors. The sky overhead turned grey as she took a step forward. Her next step became a sprint, and the Sword changed in her hands, becoming a shaft of white liquid fire. When she was close enough, she leapt, and focused all of her will into the strike. The air around her grew thick as the moment slowed down. But she and the sword kept their momentum. The avatar was still turning, still looking for her, when time caught up with it, but it was too late. She struck at the creature with the liquid fire in her hands, and felt a bolt of lightning leap up from the ground, through the body of the avatar, to touch the clouds above. Every hair on her body stood on end, and when she passed through the bolt, landing heavily on the floor with the Sword that was once again a sword in her hands, the avatar was gone. Only a black, charred patch of earth remained where the avatar had been standing.

"This cannot be!" said Garius angrily. There was a flash of white light from the wizard as his True Name took effect, rendering him mortal, though still undead, once more. "I will see you die before this is done, Kail Farlong!" he hissed. Then he raised both arms and teleported away, out of her reach.

The changes wrought by his loss of power immediately took effect. The wraiths and the vampires burst into flames, no longer protected from the sunlight. The skeletons and zombies dropped their weapons and fled, or were cut down in the attempt. Ghouls and ghasts cringed and tried to find cover from the light but were felled by normal weapons. A cheer arose from the survivors, and she allowed them their momentary celebration. But she didn't join in with their joy at being left alive. She stood and stared at the charred earth, and concentrated on not collapsing with exhaustion.

Overhead, the grey clouds rumbled. The heavens opened, and cold rain began to pour over the red courtyard.

o - o - o - o - o

The roaring fire in the library was almost too hot to bear, but Kail sat with her back to it, letting it dry her clothes, embracing the heat as if it were her own. Her trousers were going stiff with dried blood and rain, but she ignored her discomfort as she watched Sand pace the room. Somehow, between the shadow army's retreat and being summoned to the library, he'd found time to change into a pair of clean robes, and his hair was, if not dry, then at least in a much better condition than hers.

"I wonder what's taking Aldanon so long," he mused, more to himself than to her. "He almost never leaves the library. Why would he summon us here if he wasn't going to be here himself?"

"Because he is a forgetful old man," said Ammon. Sitting on a plain wooden-backed chair, he looked as tired as Kail felt. "And I'm beginning to understand what it means to be the latter."

"Are you alright?" Neeshka asked Kail quietly. The tiefling was sitting a few paces away, out of the direct heat of the fire, but still close enough to be warmed and dried by it. "You're not blaming yourself, are you? Sand, she's blaming herself again. Tell her not to!"

"I'm sure he wouldn't have asked us all here unless he had something important to share," Sand continued, oblivious to the conversation around him.

In truth, Kail _was_ blaming herself. She should have destroyed the avatar faster. Too many people were gone. Too many names that she recognised littered the list of the dead or the missing. _Katriona. Sir Darmon of the Nine. Keros of the Ironfists. Slaan of the lizardfolk._ And the list of injured people wasn't any shorter. Zhjaeve's spine had been broken; Elanee had healed her, and now the githzerai was resting. Casavir had received four broken ribs and a punctured lung. He too had been healed, and now Elanee was with him, in the room that they shared. Khelgar had managed to get away with only a concussion, despite the beating he'd taken. Bevil had a broken leg, and Jalboun had a broken arm. Sal's shoulder had been dislocated, and Kana had had a rusty blade shoved through her thigh. Nevalle had narrowly avoided being scalped. Daeghun had taken a number of small injuries, none severe enough to cripple him, but he'd lost a lot of blood. Half of the Ironfists were barely in any state to stand, let alone fight. Her Greycloak army had been reduced to half its size, and only a handful of lizardfolk remained. The golem's armour, and the runic inscriptions on it, had been damaged, and Grobnar was repairing them in the dungeon.

There were, however, small blessings to be found. Sal would have been killed, had it not been for Deekin and his crossbow. The undead had found the back-entrance into the Keep, and a small group of them had chased Dory and Wolf, who made it to the dungeon where Kistrel had protected them until Lord Nasher had been able to coax the least injured Greycloaks into rescuing them. And because Ammon had finished reading Garius' True Name, the wizard, wherever he was now, could be destroyed. She wasn't foolish enough to believe she'd make the killing blow herself; he was still a powerful wizard, and it would probably be Sand, Qara or Ammon who would finish him off.

"Ah, there you are," said Aldanon, shambling into the library with his assistant in tow. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"What is it, Aldanon?" Sand asked immediately.

"I thought you'd like to know, I've found a way into the Claimed Lands for you. I'd love to go there for myself, but I'm not as young as I used to be, and fear I'd only slow you down."

"Exactly what 'way' is this?" Ammon asked skeptically. Kail couldn't blame him. It seemed remarkably convenient that Aldanon had found a way into the Vale of Merdelain almost as soon as the shadow army had retreated... but then again, Aldanon had always been right about such things before. He hadn't let her down once... so far.

"Quite remarkable, you see. The Tome has a way of, let us say, unfettering the connections between here and there. 'Here' being wherever the Tome is, of course. It has a sort of duality to it, rather like the pages of a book. When the book is open, the pages are apart. Closed, they are together. An ingenious way to hide information, really. The Tome can pinpoint a location within the Vale, and open a doorway to it."

"How soon can we go?" Kail asked. She ran her fingers over the blade of the Sword, which was balanced across her knees, and little sparks of silver lightning followed her touch.

"Whenever you like," said Aldanon. "Now that I know how to make the doorway, I can open it at your whim."

"One hour, then."

"I would really prefer to be able to rest before teleporting into the dark heart of evil incarnate," said Sand. "I used up almost every spell I have during our encounter with the avatar, and I'm not overly keen on the idea of being ambushed in the Vale with no spells to hand."

"The sooner we go," said Ammon, "the better off the Keep will be. Both Garius and the King of Shadows will be more interested in Kail than in destroying this place... especially when she teleports inside their sanctuary. If we wait to rest, the shadow army may regroup under a different Shadow Reaver and attack again."

"Neeshka? What do you think?" she asked.

"I hate waiting around. It makes me feel all itchy," the tiefling replied. "Sooner gone, sooner home, right?"

"But one hour isn't long enough for me to sort through all my scrolls, potions and magical sundry!" Sand complained.

"Then you'd better get started," said Kail. The elf hurried from the room, in the closest thing to a run she had ever seen from him.

"I have a few effects of my own to sort out before we leave," said Ammon, rising fluidly from his chair. He followed Sand into the corridor.

"Will you do me a favour and tell everybody we'll be leaving in one hour?" she asked Neeshka. "I don't expect Zhjaeve and Casavir to come, seriously injured as they were, but I doubt I'll be able to keep Khelgar away. And tell Grobnar that if he can't get the golem fixed by the time we leave, it'll have to stay behind."

"Sure," said Neeshka, reaching out and giving her arm a squeeze. "Just leave it to me. I'll make sure everybody's ready."

"Terribly brave of you all to risk your lives like this," said Aldanon once the tiefling had gone. "Of course, we'll all die horribly if you fail, but that's always a risk, isn't it?"

"Not that we believe you won't succeed," said his assistant quickly.

"Thanks," she said. "I hate to impose, but could I possibly ask you to take a message down to Sal? Would you ask him to sort out some food we can take with us? I don't know how long we'll be inside the Claimed Lands for, but I doubt there'll be anything to eat there."

"Of course, it's no problem at all."

For the last time, Kail walked the corridors to her suite. She knew, this time, that it really _was_ the last time. In one hour she'd be leaving forever. Every hallway was cold and silent. The servants were long gone, and all of the Greycloaks were either injured or helping to clean up in the courtyard. Bodies lying out in the sun would attract flies, which in turn would spread disease. Most of the corpses were being burnt, though Nevalle had claimed Darmon's body for an honourable funeral, and the Ironfists had already taken Keros' body for a ceremony of their own. What the lizardfolk were doing with their dead she did not know, nor did she care to find out.

She made it back to her room just as the tears began to fall from her eyes. People she had known and liked were now dead. Katriona, so brave, so like Shandra, was lying on the cold floor of the courtyard, or had already been turned to ashes. Darmon, who had laughed warmly with her and smiled at her and taught her that not all knights and nobles were asses, would never laugh or smile again. Keros, who had been so fierce and angry when she'd first met him, but so open and honourable after Khelgar had claimed his place within his clan, would never pick up his axe and charge into battle again. In her mind, she saw women and children crying over the loss of their husbands, fathers, sons and brothers. The tears she cried were not tears of guilt, as they had been in West Harbor, but genuine tears of grief. So many innocent people had died before their time, and she hadn't even known the names of most of them. It didn't seem fair.

At last she ran out of tears, and turned to face herself in the long mirror. A puffy, red-eyed face looked back at her. For once, its eyes weren't accusatory. They didn't say _this is your fault_, as they often had in the past. They simply said that they understood, that the worst was now over and it was time she forgave herself and moved on. She couldn't move forward whilst clinging to the past; old emotions would only hold her back.

"We don't deal with death very well, do we?" she asked her reflection. "Or loss, either. Well, I suppose we can't be perfect." She smiled at that thought, then turned to survey her room. Mechanically, she went to her wardrobe and took out a clean pair of trousers and a clean shirt, with clean socks and underwear. She had no other boots, but hers were still quite new, and had done a good job at keeping her feet dry. They would suffice. Dragging her backpack out from under her bed, she opened it and put her change of clothes inside. Then she opened her drawer and fitted her leather bracers over the cuffs of her shirt. She placed small throwing knives into the hidden places within them, as well as the hidden places within her boots and coat, which was still damp from her earlier soaking. From her second drawer she took a small bag of medicinal herbs and bandages, and these went into her pack, along with a few potions she'd accrued on her travel. Her tinderbox and flint striker followed, placed in the middle of the pack to keep them from getting wet. A small stash of gold she slipped down the side of her pack, more out of habit than any fear it would be stolen. On top of her clothes and herbs she placed her whetstone and her small bag of toiletries, mainly soaps and her toothbrush. A larger bag of magical amulets, necklaces, rings and brooches followed it, and she topped it off by closing her bag and fastening her sleeping roll to the top, safely wrapped inside her waterproof groundsheet. Everything else she could leave behind.

For the last time, she sat at her desk and opened a drawer. The only reports left were old. There had been no need for reports, of late. She left them where they were, and took out the piece of paper she'd been working on. She knew how it ended, now. She knew how everything ended. It wasn't a happy ending, but it wasn't the end of the world, either. She picked up her quill, dipped it into the ink bottle, and began to write. For a moment, the only sound was of her quill scratching its way across the paper. And when she'd finished, she blew across it to dry the ink, then read her work.

_When the last words have been spoken,_

_ And when the last dance is through,_

_ When the final curtain has fallen,_

_ All you have left is you._

From her drawer she took out a cream coloured envelope. She folded the paper, pushed it inside the envelope, made a cut in the back and pushed the flap inside it. Then she turned it over and picked up her quill one last time. '_Daeghun_', she wrote on the front. And when she was done, she put it on the mantlepiece, above the dead fire. Content that she'd done everything she'd ever need to do here, she picked up her pack from the bed and went to the door. She looked back into the room for a moment. This place had never been home, but it was familiar. She would miss the familiarity, when she was gone, but coming back wasn't an option. The only thing waiting for her here were chains disguised as noble titles and wealth. Maybe, one day, she'd be happy to be chained to a place like this. But for now, she wanted the one thing she had never truly known; freedom.


	104. Shadow's Vale

_104. Shadow's Vale_

Patterns of light played across Kail's vision as the world shimmered into view. The first thing she heard was the sound of dripping water, and the shuffling of feet as everybody else moved around her, trying to spread out and make room amongst themselves. The air was as cold as death, and as still as deepest winter. Grobnar summoned a small white light which hovered above his head, and everybody drew their weapons, preparing for imminent attack. When the expected attack did not come, Kail relaxed a little, letting the light of the Sword dim. She stepped past Ammon and looked around at their surroundings.

They'd materialised inside a large chamber that was flooded with water. The only places that weren't flooded were small stone paths leading to and from islands of more grey stone. The whole place was lit with an unnatural dim blue light emanating from tall blue crystals that were set into stylised metal stands. The lights didn't illuminate the area as much as create pools of shadow around the cavernous room. Of Garius, the Guardian, or the shadow army, there was no sign, but a single door was set into the far wall, and it seemed to be the only way in to or out of the room.

"Where are we?" asked Qara. "This doesn't look like the King of Shadow's lair."

"Hmm," said Sand thoughtfully. "This must be as far as the Tome could take us. No doubt we'll have to fight our way to the Guardian's sanctum."

"Oh, how convenient, Sand. We just _happen_ to arrive in the Claimed Lands, the gods only know how far away from our goal. Or maybe you and Kail planned this between you."

"Listen to me, you foolish girl-" Sand hissed.

"Both of you, stop arguing," said Ammon. "The Guardian knew we were coming, and it most likely has protected its lair with powerful magic, to prevent anything but its own minions teleporting directly to it."

"Know that we cannot allow fear and doubt to drive us apart now. We must remain together, and not allow the King of Shadows to divide us," said Zhjaeve. The githzerai looked even paler and more sickly than usual, and Kail wondered how recovered she _really_ was from her terrible injury. But nothing could dissuade the woman; she was determined to see Kail succeed, and see an end to the King of Shadows. Casavir, too, had been equally determined to come along, though Kail wondered what he was more concerned about; seeing the King of Shadows destroyed, or seeing Bishop punished for his betrayal.

"Zhjaeve is right," said Kail. Her voice should have echoed around the large empty chamber, but instead it sounded unnaturally muted, as if the air itself was pressing in on her, trying to prevent any part of her from leaving. "We have to work together, otherwise we're all going to die here, like we almost did last night. This isn't a game. It's real." Her words met with a chastened silence.

"We should get going," said Ammon gruffly. "The longer we stand around here, the more at risk we'll be."

"We should find somewhere safe to rest, now that we know an ambush isn't imminent," said Sand. "I haven't entered reverie properly in nearly two days."

"I'm also out of spells," said Elanee. "If somebody is injured, I won't be able to heal them, as we are." Zhjaeve nodded too. Kail looked around at her friends, and realised they were just as weary as she was. Zhjaeve and Casavir would benefit from a few hours of rest, and Sand, Qara and Elanee needed to replenish their spells if they were to have any chance of surviving this place.

"Alright. We'll set up camp over there," she said, gesturing to one of the square stone islands. "Khelgar, Ammon and I will take it in turns to keep watch, and we'll post Mister Pointy as a look-out. Neeshka, will you have a look at that door, see if it's got any unpleasant traps on it? And if it's locked, open it."

"Oh," said Grobnar. "Um, Neeshka appears not to have heard your speech about remaining together. She's disappeared."

"What?" Kail pushed her friends aside as she looked for the tiefling. Neeshka _couldn't_ be gone. She _couldn't_. They'd only been in this place for a few moments, and there was nowhere the tiefling could go. Unless... "Neeshka!" called Kail, leaning over the side of the path and staring down into the murky water. If Neeshka had somehow materialised down there, instead of on the path, she could already be dead. "Neeshka!" She plunged her arm down into the water and tried to reach out for anything with her fingers.

"Don't be foolish!" said Ammon. He hauled her up by the back of her shirt and set her on her feet. "You don't know what's down there."

"Know that I believe the King of Shadows has taken her," said Zhjaeve, her pale eyes sure and sad.

"No, not Neeshka! He can't have Neeshka," she said, desperately trying to free herself from Ammon's grip. Panic had gripped her heart and was threatening to take control.

"Kail," said Elanee, planting her slim hands on Kail's shoulders and forcing her to look into her honey-brown eyes. "We will get Neeshka back. We will. But you need to remain calm. Being angry or falling to pieces won't help her now. That's what the King of Shadows wants. That's why he took her. You need to keep your wits about you."

"I... you're right," she said. She felt her shoulders slump, and Ammon released her. "But if he's hurt one hair on her head..."

"Don't worry, lass," said Khelgar. "She's a survivor, and we'll get her back, and make the King of Shadows pay for everything he's done."

She nodded, and led the way to the large stone island. In silence she began to unravel her groundsheet and sleeping roll as the others did the same. As Zhjaeve, Casavir, Elanee, Sand and Qara settled down to rest, and Grobnar ordered the golem to stand guard before crawling under his own blanket, Kail sat cross-legged on her sleeping roll. She hated this delay. Every moment resting was another moment passing without Neeshka. The Guardian had known how to hit her hardest. It had taken her home. It had taken the lives of her men. And now it had taken her best friend too. Well, she would make the King of Shadows pay for every loss. She would destroy any undead that stood in her way. She would take its servants away from it one by one. She would bring light into the darkest depths of its lair. And then she would destroy it utterly. Soon, the King of Shadows would be nothing but a memory.

o - o - o - o - o

Kail didn't bother sleeping, when Khelgar told her he was relieving her from her shift. Neither she, Ammon nor Khelgar slept, and she wondered how the others had managed it. She was tired enough to sleep for a week, but she couldn't sleep while her best friend was in the clutches of the King of Shadows. She wouldn't rest until she'd got Neeshka back. Even if the tiefling hadn't been taken, she doubt she could have slept in the cold, still chamber. Everything about it felt wrong. The carvings on the walls, the light stands, the pathways, were all elegant and beautiful, but it was a twisted beauty. It had been warped from what it was to something unnatural. Just like the Guardian itself.

"Hmph. Figures," grumbled Khelgar quietly. He was sitting with his back against a wall, stroking the handle of the Hammer of Ironfist and glaring out into the room.

"What figures?" she asked quietly so as not to wake the others.

"Y'see those areas of shadows, where the light doesn't quite reach?" She looked to the shadowy patches he indicated and nodded. "There's bodies in those shadows. Dead bodies. Dozens of them."

"Are you sure?" she asked, trying to peer into the shadows but seeing only darkness.

"These eyes don't lie, lass. By the looks of them, they're long dead, but they haven't rotted away like bodies should have. Their bones are too white."

"Those are probably the last defenders of the Illefarn empire," said Ammon. "The elves, men and dwarves who stayed behind to defend their homes from the hordes of undead... and to seal it with magic should they become overwhelmed. It looks like they did their jobs."

"I should have listened to you," she said. "You told me the Guardian was intelligent. I thought it just used intelligent minions. I thought that, even though it had become the King of Shadows, it was still a construct, with no more ability to think and feel than... than Mister Pointy. If I'd listened more closely to you, I would have been more careful. I would have come alone with you and maybe Zhjaeve. I wouldn't have brought everybody else to be kidnapped or exhausted or..."

"Bah, ye know the others wouldn't have stood fer that," said Khelgar. "And neither would I. I didn't follow you to quit now. Besides, the old girl's just itching to strike at the Guardian." He patted the head of the warhammer.

"I don't like it here," she said, shivering and pulling her blanket closer around her body. "It's too dark, too... heavy. I think I prefer the wild-elf way of building, which can be summed up as 'very little'. They live in tents and huts. You can fall asleep looking up at the stars, and wake up hearing the singing of birds. This place is nothing but a cold stone prison."

"Nonsense. This is fine craftsmanship, even by dwarven standards."

"You see this remnant of the Illefarn empire through prejudiced eyes," said Ammon. "You associate Illefarn with the Guardian, and the destruction it has wrought, and that tarnishes your view of this place. In its day, it was most likely a warm and vibrant building where the people of Illefarn met to discuss important affairs of state."

"I still don't like it," she said. "Even the Ironfist Clanhold was nicer than this when it was infested with bugbears and ogres."

"Half-ogres," Khelgar corrected.

"Same difference. All I'm saying is-"

"Shh!" Ammon had raised his hand to silence her, and now he looked about the room, turning his head slowly as if listening to something. Kail closed her mouth and listened to, her senses strained for any sound. Had Ammon heard something approaching? Had he heard Neeshka in some distant place? Or was he simply on edge and jumping at shadows? "Wake the others."

"Why?" she whispered. For some reason, it no longer felt safe to talk in normal tones.

"Our presence has been detected. Something is on its way here."

"How can ye tell?" Khelgar asked.

"When you've spent as much time as I have as the object of focus and scrutiny by creatures of evil, you develop a sense of when you're being watched. I just felt something turn its attention to us. Now, wake everybody else, and let's hope they've had enough sleep."

o - o - o - o - o

Pain like she had never felt before racked Neeshka's entire body. It felt like a thousand needles being pushed under her skin. Hooked needles, which were trying to rip her flesh, trying to skin her alive. It was like burning, her whole body was on fire, and she screamed and screamed, incoherent words, begging for the pain to end. She tried to force herself back into darkness, into unconsciousness, where the pain couldn't hurt her, but she couldn't. She could sense the darkness beneath her but some invisible force prevented her from entering it. She reached out with her hands, desperately trying to throw herself into it, to drown herself in it. The sharp taste of blood filled her mouth as she bit through her tongue, but she barely even noticed it. Compared to the pain, the taste of her own blood was nothing.

"Interesting. Very interesting indeed." The voice was somehow familiar, but she couldn't put a name or a face to it. The pain blocked out everything. She tried to flee into her memories, trying to conjure up images of the past, to lose herself within them, but they, too, were denied to her. No matter how desperately she tried, she couldn't recall them. She couldn't even remember what she'd last eaten.

The pain lasted an eternity, and then it was reversed. She was no longer on fire but freezing cold. She felt her body shaking violently on the cold stone table altar beneath her, but she could do nothing to stop her shivers, and she was just as helpless to stop the ragged gasps of pain that crawled out of her dry parched throat.

"It is done," said the voice. "Take her, and put her somewhere safe until I'm ready for her. Give her something to eat and drink. She must stay alive."

There was a hissing sound of frustration above her, and then a single pair of strong, stone-cold hands lifted her from the altar. Even though the hands were sharp and cold and painful where they clasped her, she was grateful to them. She was grateful to them for taking her away from that altar, for taking her away from the pain. She would have done _anything_ to stop that pain, but nothing she'd promised had seemed to satisfy the voice.

She tried opening her eyes but the light was so painful that it almost made her vomit. Her skull felt as if it was physically splitting apart. What had that voice _done_ to her? She stopped wondering when she heard the sound of a door opening. She was deposited onto a cold floor and landed painfully on her stomach, and the door slammed closed behind her. Even the act of simply lying there made her hurt. Thinking, feeling, living... it was all too painful. If only she could find a way to die. Death would be a release from the pain. In death, she wouldn't feel her muscles screaming, her skin on fire, nor taste her own blood in her mouth. It wasn't fair. Why hadn't the person who'd done this simply kill her? And worse, what if they did it again? She couldn't bear that. She would rather kill herself now than endure even a fraction of what she had been through.

She was so focused on her pain and her fear, that at first she didn't hear the door open and close quietly. Had her eyes been open, she would have seen the shadow falling across her as somebody bent over her. But the first she knew that she was no longer alone was when a familiar voice spoke.

"Eat this. You'll feel stronger, after."

Despite the nauseating pain, she opened her eyes. Bishop was crouched in front of her, holding a wooden bowl of food in one hand and a metal cup in the other. More than anything, she wanted to summon all of her strength, lunge at him and throttle him, but she knew she was far too weak for that. She could barely even lift her head.

"It's not poisoned," he said, mistaking her silence for fear that he was going to kill her. She could have laughed! He thought she was afraid of poison? Poison would have been a welcome reprieve! "It's water, with a bit of healing potion in it. Not enough to heal you completely, but enough to take the edge off the pain, to allow you to sit up and eat. Garius wants you to live."

"Then I want to die," she said, though she wasn't sure he understood. Her tongue was thick in her mouth, swollen where she had bitten through it in her throes of agony. He placed the cup and the bowl on the floor within her reach, then stood and moved away, leaning back against the door to watch her. It didn't matter, she decided, whether the water was poisoned or not. If it was, death would be welcome. If it wasn't, she would get stronger, and be in a better position to escape or, even better, strike back at Garius. It took all of her strength for her to slide her arm across the floor and take the cup in her hand. It was even more difficult trying to drink whilst prone on her stomach, and some of the liquid ran down her chin. But Bishop was telling the truth, and she immediately felt the healing magic at work in her body. Her tongue was fixed first, and then her skin, which no longer felt as if it was on fire. Her aches and some pains were still there, but it was manageable pain now.

"Better?" he asked, as if he was doing her some sort of favour. As if he hadn't betrayed Kail at the worst possible time.

"I'm going to get out of here," she said. Her throat was still sore, her voice still raspy, but at least she could talk coherently now. "And when I do... I'm going to do to you what Garius did to me." He said nothing, but slid a dagger out of its sheathe on his belt, and tossed it on the floor. It slid along the cold stone, coming to rest gently against her knee. For a moment she looked at it, trying to figure out his angle. Then she braced herself, picked up the dagger, and leapt, aiming the weapon for his heart.

When it was an inch away from sinking into his flesh, a blinding pain shot through her head, bringing with it another wave of nausea. Her brain felt as if it was literally pounding its way out of her skull, and she sank limply to the floor. Bishop reached down and plucked the dagger from her loose grip, then stepped away from her, choosing to stand at the opposite side of the room.

"You should eat, too. There's no healing potion in the food, but it will make you feel a little more... human."

"What..." she panted, "happened?" The pain was subsiding now. It seemed that the moment she stopped thinking about killing Bishop, the pain went away.

"Garius put a geas on you," he said calmly. "He thinks he's clever."

"What... geas?"

"I told the King of Shadows that I'd kill Kail. Garius doesn't believe me. So he took you, and put a geas on you, to force you to finish what I start if I can't finish it myself."

"I will never kill Kail!" she said vehemently. "Never! And why are you telling me this? You know she'll find me sooner or later."

"That's what Garius is counting on." Bishop sounded scornful of the wizard. "Part of the geas is that you can't tell anybody about it any more than you can harm anybody on Garius' side. He's got it all set up nicely. Kail will 'rescue' you, and you won't be able to say a word about this. When you're close enough to strike, the geas will force you to attack her. The only way she'll be able to stop you will be to kill you. But she won't do that. She might kill me, but she'll _never_ kill you. You're like a sister to her. Like I said, Garius thinks he's clever."

"Gods, you're as stupid as she is. If not stupider! How much of this was your idea?"

"The part where I kill Kail was my idea. Kidnapping you, torturing you, putting a geas on you... that was all Garius. He's had it planned out for ages. See, the King of Shadows likes people to do his bidding of their own free will. That's why he was using Garius and the shadow priests to begin with. But he's not above forcing people to do his will if he feels they need to be coerced into it."

"You've _seen_ the King of Shadows?" she asked skeptically. She ignored the food in the bowl. She wouldn't eat a single thing Bishop or Garius provided.

"No, he only speaks to Garius, and Garius only tells me the bare minimum of what he thinks I need to know. But I watch, and I listen. Those two vampires who attacked Kail in the Keep and nearly killed her were only supposed to be there to observe her, to look for weaknesses. They decided _you_ were her greatest weakness. Good news for me, I suppose, because had it been me, I'd probably be in your place right now, suffering from that geas. But then, the vampires got hungry, and greedy. They attacked before their master was ready, tipping his hand, and ensuring no other spies would get close to the Keep again."

"So is this why you told Kail to 'come alone'? Because you knew I'd be taken and used against Kail?"

"No, I had no idea about that at the time. I just didn't want to have to put up with any of those whingers. I can't tell you how irritating it was, having to play nice with them all the time."

"What's wrong with your eyes?" she asked. Something had been bothering her since he'd first come into the room. Something was different about him, and she'd only just been able to place it. His eyes were no longer gold and vivid in his face. Instead, they were a dull hazel. A nice colour, but nothing special.

"Nothing's wrong with my eyes," he said, and she detected strong currents of anger in his voice. "Eat your food or don't, it's all the same to me. I'm going now. Garius is sending some of his minions to attack Kail and her band of merry friends. Nothing strong enough to kill her... just a little something to make her hurry up and get where he wants her." He opened the door and stopped for a moment, looking down on her. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry you were taken. I'm sorry you were her weakness. You're one of the few people I can actually stand to be around. You can break the geas if you're willing to suffer the pain. I heard two of the shadow priests discussing it. And if you do manage to break it, I suggest you run for your life, because Garius won't be as lenient the second time round."

The door closed behind him and Neeshka lay back down on the ground. Her body was so tired, but her mind was now afire with thoughts. She wasn't sure she believed Bishop at all. For all she knew, every word he'd said had been a lie. But somehow, she doubted it. So all she had to worry about now was escaping, avoiding Garius' forces and finding a way to break the geas so she could warn Kail that Bishop was trying to kill her.

Piece of cake.

o - o - o - o - o

"You shouldn't be here!" said Kail, for what must have been for the fifth time in a row. Casavir ignored her as Elanee placed her warm hands on his skin. Healing energy passed through her body into his, and he felt the wounds in his flesh knit together. He was just grateful that Kail's glares and lectures involved Zhjaeve as much as him, if not more so. _He'd_ only had a few broken ribs and a damaged lung, whereas the githzerai's spine had been crushed. He rather agreed with Kail, at the moment... only about Zhjaeve, of course, not about himself. He smiled at Elanee as she withdrew her hands and left to tend Grobnar's injuries.

"Know that I must protect you during your battle with the Guardian, Kalach-cha," said Zhjaeve.

"And I must protect you from Bishop, so that you will live long enough for Zhjaeve to protect you during your battle with the Guardian," he added. A flicker of a smile passed across Kail's lips. It was good to see her smiling again, however briefly. Perhaps he was developing a sense of humour in his old age.

"That doesn't change the fact that you're both in less than perfect shape," she ploughed on.

"You could not stop them from coming any more than we could stop you from using your Sword to save the lives of others," said Ammon. It was a surprise to hear him defending Zhjaeve for once, and Kail looked a little chastised by his words. She seemed to genuinely respect the old warlock. Which probably shouldn't have been a surprise. In some ways, Jerro was like her old mentor Lucas, whom he'd met briefly late in the last year. And it seemed Daeghun had also instilled in her some respect for her elders. Not that that respect extended to Casavir, of course. He was a good few years older than her, but she apparently considered him too young to be worthy of immediate respect.

"We shouldn't tarry here long," said Sand anxiously. "I don't like the feel of this place. It's too... heavy."

"That's what I said!" said Kail. "Khelgar and Ammon thought I was being biased."

"I feel it too," said Elanee. "It feels both empty and heavy at the same time. It's not the same as in Meredelain, where I could feel the taint within the land. It's more like what's left after a storm. All wrecked, but calm, because the storm has moved elsewhere."

"Speaking of moving elsewhere," said Qara, "are we going to sit around here forever? I've got most of my spells back now, what are we waiting for?"

"This would be the 'tending the wounds of the injured' phase we're going through now, Qara," said Sand. "Rest assured, if you are ever in the position of being injured, we will skip it entirely."

"Elanee?" said Kail. "Are you done?"

"Yes. Everybody is as good as new."

"If this is new," Khelgar grumbled, "I want a refund."

"I do hope Neeshka is okay," said Grobar worriedly. "I don't think I could bear losing another friend."

"Don't worry, Grobnar, we'll get her back," said Kail. "But not whilst we're sitting around. Let's break camp and go."

They packed up their gear in silence, avoiding the mass of corpses that lay on the ground around them. The ambush hadn't been well co-ordinated, or they would have taken more injuries, but the undead could rarely co-ordinate their movements without an intelligence to guide them. What had come out of the shadows as Kail and Khelgar had woken them up had been shadow fiends and wraiths. Then, zombies and skeletons had risen up from the depths of the murky flood-waters. One of them had tried to drag Qara down, and another had made a beeline for Zhjaeve, quickly overcoming the tired githzerai. Only fast action on behalf of Mister Pointy had saved the githzerai from being crushed, and Kail's silver sword had severed the hand trying to drag Qara beneath the water. They'd take some minor injuries, but had come out of the scuffle quite well.

Khelgar had bullied Kail into letting him take the lead, and now he opened the only door in the room and stepped beyond it. Casavir followed behind Zhjaeve and Elanee, and found himself looking out into a room that was even larger and more cavernous than the last. There was no flood-water here, but there were many of those strange blue crystal lights set in lamp-stands that _should_ be rusty with age, but weren't. Otherwise, the room was entirely empty except for one thing; bodies. There were dozens of skeletal corpses lying slumped against walls or collapsed into heaps in the middle of the floor. Warily, the group spread out to examine them. The one Casavir approached was an elf, or had been in his life. He still wore a fine shirt of elven mail, and in his hand he carried a rusty sword.

"This truly was the last stand!" said Khelgar, awe in his voice. "Here's a dwarf, and I recognise the symbol on his shield. It's Dardath."

"Didn't one of those Arvahn spirits mention Dardath?" Kail asked. He was sometimes amazed at the minutiae she remembered. Most of what those spirits had said was nonsense to him, and he hadn't paid much attention to their words. It was obvious they'd all been driven insane, in one way or another. But Kail had listened, and she'd remembered.

"Aye. Dardath was a dwarven kingdom allied with Illefarn during the orc wars. When the elves of Illefarn began the Retreat, until all that was left were a few cities, the elves who remained in Ardeep forged an alliance with the dwarves of Dardath, and the humans of Delimbiyr."

"Neeshka would have loved this place," said Kail with a smile. She stood up from her examination of a corpse. "Everybody spread out, and see if there's anything worth salvaging on these bodies. Take only the things that we'll might use. I don't want to disturb the dead too much. Not here."

"Kalach-cha!" called Zhjaeve, from another room. "I've found something you should see."

Everybody followed Kail as she hurried towards the direction of the githzerai's voice. When the reached Zhjaeve, they found themselves looking at a thick black fog which seemed to suck the light from the room. But strangely enough, the fog didn't move. It simply stayed where it was, obstructing their path. Just beyond the fog, he could make out a stairway, but there was no way around the cloud of darkness.

"What do you suppose it is?" asked Grobar, taken a step closer to the cloud. Kail stepped beside him, pulling him back by his shirt. "Some sort of barrier? Maybe a security system? A way of moving shadows around the ruins? A toxic fog of gruesome death?"

"I do not know," said Zhjaeve. "But it blocks our way forward. There is nowhere else to go but through here."

"Maybe we should look around for hidden rooms behind false walls," said Qara with a shiver. "Creepy old places like this must be full of secret places, right?"

"I fear not," said Elanee sadly. Casavir took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, and she smiled at him.

He was about to suggest tying a rope around himself and stepping through, when an unnatural wail rose from the room they'd just left. Everybody except Ammon and Zhjaeve jumped in fright, and they all turned, weapons in hand. He found himself hefting his own weapon, his sturdy silver hammer, as the wailing grew louder. Like a wave they came, shadows and vampires, the latter floating across the floor as the former seemed to ooze from the cracks in the walls and the floor. They were a tidal wave of grey and black, too numerous to count.

"Into the cloud!" Kail shouted. She shoved Grobnar forward, following him immediately.

"Get a move on, Princess!" said Khelgar, pushing Qara into the cloud behind them.

"Go on without me," said Zhjaeve. "I will try to hold them off long enough for you to escape."

"I think not," said Sand. He grabbed the githzerai by the arm and hauled her into the darkness. She was too weak to protest. Now, the wave of grey and black was almost upon them.

"This way, quickly!" said Ammon. He grabbed Casavir's arm in one hand and Elanee's in another, and stepped into the murky fog, drawing them in behind him. And the last thing Casavir heard as the darkness swallowed him was the annoyed shriek of a vampire denied its meal.


	105. Hide and Seek

_Artistic licence: When something is boring, make it better. Think Labyrinth, without David Bowie. _

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* * *

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_105. Hide and Seek_

The world seemed to buckle and heave. Something happened in space or time, and Khelgar was spat out of the dark cloud of fog at twice the speed he'd entered it. He lost his footing and went sprawling to the floor, and an instant later something tall, skinny and red was thrown out of the darkness to land on top of him. Then the black cloud disappeared completely.

"Bah, get off me!" he said, trying to push himself to his feet. Qara rolled off him and landed on the floor with an indignant squeak.

"Great idea, Kail," she said angrily. "Everybody run into the cloud of darkness. Brilliant."

"Uh, lass. Ye might wanna save yer complaints. Kail isn't here. Nobody's here."

"What?" She was on her feet in an instant, looking around for any sign of company. But there was no-one. Just him and her, and she didn't look best pleased about it. But Khelgar ignored her fuming as he took in his surroundings. He had no idea where they were, but the architecture was the same, and there were more of those strange blue crystal lights, which was promising. At last they were probably in the same _building_ as Kail and the others. This room was just as large as the last, and it had many doors in the walls. Above them was another level consisting of paths and bridges connecting large areas of floor. He saw even more bridges and paths above them, and wondered how high this place was. But he saw no stairs, no way of _reaching_ that level. And there were no stairs down, either, so this was probably the ground floor.

"I wonder what this place used to be," he mused aloud.

"I don't care. I'm tired, cold, hungry and thirsty."

He glanced at the sorceress and was reminded of how young she was. She was little more than a child, even in human terms. It was only right that she be a bit frightened, and he realised he hadn't been very sympathetic to her so far.

"Alright, we'll have something to eat and drink here," he said. "But we'll have to warm up by walking around. There's nothing here to build a fire with, other than bones, and bone needs hotter temperatures to burn than wood." She gave him a level look. "Oh, right. Walking furnace, I keep forgetting. But still, I think it's too dangerous to light a fire. It'll draw the undead to us like a beacon."

For once, she didn't argue. She merely sat down on the cold floor and took some of the food Sal had provided out of her pack. It wasn't much; each person had a few pieces of fruit from last harvest, a couple of seeded bread rolls, some slices of cheese, some cured meat, a few hard biscuits and a small flask of wine to wash it down, in addition to their canteens of water. Qara took a sip of her wine now, slapped some cheese and a slice of meat on one of the bread rolls, and chewed it with a vengeance. Khelgar avoided his wine. He wasn't desperate enough to drink it yet, though he wouldn't have said no to a cold glass of ale or three. He didn't bother with food, either. He could go for days without having to eat, as long as he had something to fight. Nourishment for the soul.

As Qara ate in sullen silence, he explored a little of the area around them. As with the other rooms, there was nothing here except dead bodies. Legions of them. And all of them looked like warriors. All of them had died fighting. _Rest in peace, brothers,_ he thought to them, hoping they'd notice he was a fellow warrior and refrain from rising to attack. He skirted them all and approached one of the doors. It was made of stone, and he had to push with all his effort to open it. When it finally swung to, all he found behind it was a long corridor leading into darkness. Not that the darkness bothered him. He _was_ a dwarf after all, and Her Highness could summon light to guide her, just like Grobnar could... at least when it suited her. He turned away from the corridor, stuck his fingers in his mouth and let out a sharp whistle which echoed up into the heights of the room.

"What are you doing?" Qara jumped to her feet with a hiss.

"It's better than shouting," he replied. "If anyone hears us, they can whistle back, and it's harder to trace a whistle than it is a voice. But we should probably move on now. It's not safe to spend too long in one place. Just before the ambush, Ammon said he felt something turn its attention to us, but it took that 'something' a while to locate us, or it would have attacked the moment we arrived. As long as we keep moving, we should be safe."

"And just where are we moving _to_?"

"Take your pick," he said, gesturing at the doors around him. "I don't think it matters where, we just have to be careful, and as quiet as possible."

"And what happens if the others come _here_ and we're already gone?"

"Hmm. We should leave them a sign. We could make little arrows. Do you have any rope?"

"No, Casavir had all the rope."

"What about something to write with? Ink or chalk or something?"

"I'm not big on writing."

"Well, could you maybe create some nice glowing runes along the walls as we walk?" he asked hopefully.

"I could melt the walls, but I don't do runes."

"Bah!" He took off his backpack and opened it up, hunting inside it for a roll of bread. He tore off a small piece and rubbed it between his fingers, and a small pile of crumbs formed on the ground.

"If you don't like the bread you can just give it to me. I'll eat it eventually," she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"There's an old dwarven story in my clan, about two young dwarves named Harrol and Gertha. They wanted to wed, but their parents forbade it. Harrol was from a high-ranking family, you see, and Gertha's family were merchants, spending most of their time trading with the surface races above ground. Back then, that sort of thing wasn't considered a worthy thing to do."

"Fantastic. I'm so glad you shared."

"Anyway," he went on, ignoring her as he shut his pack and hoisted it back onto his back. "One day, Harrol and Gertha packed up some food and descended into the lower areas of the mountain where they lived, hoping to find somewhere quiet so they could be alone for a while. They went to a forbidden place, a place where it was said an ancient demon lived, because that was the only place they could go where nobody else was. But when they got there, they did indeed find the demon, and it was very hungry, because no dwarves had been down there in a long time. The demon was blind, though, and mostly deaf too. It could only move by scent, and as soon as Harrol and Gertha arrived, it smelt them, and started chasing them. Then, they had an idea. Gertha took out her bread loaf and began sprinkling crumbs on the ground, laying a trail for the demon to follow, while Harrol went another way to circle behind the demon. Eventually, Gertha led the demon to an open pit, an ancient vent of still-bubbling lava. Once there, she threw the bread down into the pit, and hid behind a rock. The demon went right up to the edge of the pit, and said 'come out little dwarves, I can smell you nearby! Are you hiding down in that pit, perhaps on a hidden ledge?' And as the demon craned its neck down to smell for them, Harrol ran up from behind it and kicked with all his might. The demon went flying into the pit, and was burnt alive. Harrol and Gertha were heroes, and their parents immediately agreed to let them marry."

"I don't see the point."

"The point is," he said, setting off for the door he'd opened and sprinkling a few crumbs on the ground. "I told Kail that same story not long after we left the Weeping Willow. Now let's get going, Princess."

o - o - o - o - o

The world seemed to buckle and heave. Something happened in space or time, and Elanee went flying through the air. Something caught her, and she found herself looking into Casavir's blue eyes, held by his strong arms.

"Don't worry, I've got you," he said.

"I'm not worried," she smiled back. "Not when I'm with you."

"Ahem." Ammon Jerro was a few paces away, dusting off his brown robes. "Perhaps we should concentrate on finding the others, instead of making puppy-dog eyes at each other."

"Finding the others?" she asked in alarm as Casavir set her gently on the floor. She look around and immediately understood what he meant. They were alone in this place, which appeared to be yet another blue-lit water-flooded room. Instinctively, she took a step away from the edge of the path. She'd seen zombies rise from water once, and she had no intention of joining them.

"What was that thing, Ammon?" said Casavir, indicating the area where the black fog had been, just behind them. Now it was gone as if it had never even been there.

"I'm not entirely sure. Some form of short-range teleporting magic, I suppose, though why the undead didn't follow us through I have no idea."

"Why do you think we arrived here alone?" asked Elanee.

"Maybe because we three were in contact with each other. Whatever magic was used to bring us here mustn't be strong enough to break the ties of physical touch. That, at least, is promising."

"How so?"

"It shows that the magic is not without flaws. Had it been able to break us apart and split us up, I would be much more concerned."

"We must find the others," said Casavir firmly.

"I agree," said Ammon. "But first, we must find out where we are in relation to where we were. If the others have half an ounce of sense, they'll try to make their way back to where we were separated."

"Oh, you mean they'll try to go back to the room of certain death-by-vampires?" she asked casually. "You think Kail will go _back_, when Neeshka is _ahead_?"

"And Zhjaeve will not go back because she'll know Kail won't go back," Casavir added. "She'll try to look for her."

"Hmm, perhaps you're right," Ammon conceded. "We should split up. I will try to make my way back to where we came from, whilst the two of you try to find a way forwards. Find the others, if you can."

"No," she said firmly. "You heard what Kail and Zhjaeve said. We have to stay together. Apart, we're weaker than we are as a whole. That must be why the King of Shadows split us up like this. I don't believe anybody would try to find their way backwards."

"Elanee is right," said Casavir, and she smiled gratefully at him. "We _must_ stay together. And not just because we're stronger together, but we must also make sure you, as well as Kail, remain safe. You have one of the parts of the Illefarn Ritual of Cleansing. If you were to die, we would lose all hope of defeating the Guardian."

"Very well," said Ammon at last. "I forget, sometimes, that I no longer have to do things alone. It's a strange feeling to me. For decades I was the only one who believed the threat of the King of Shadows. For decades I had to work in secrecy, to set wheels in motion, to gain power enough to fight the Guardian. Having allies is... different. I'm not used to being told 'no'."

"Now you know how Kail feels," Elanee smiled.

"Quite. Now, we should go. The longer we stand here, the greater the risk that we're found. Since you two have this all figured out, would you like to decide where we'll go first?"

Elanee turned on the spot to examine the room they were in. It was a fairly low-ceilinged room, longer than it was wide, with blue crystal lights suspended on the walls at regular intervals. The floor was clear, devoid of bodies. And there was also no door either in or out, no stairs up or down, no ladder to climb. They appeared to be trapped.

"This used to be a barracks," said Casavir.

"How do you know?" she asked, surprised. Surely the room could have been anything... a kitchen, a waiting room, a conservatory... it had no distinguishing features at all.

"Bunk beds would have stood in rows along the walls, running down the length of the room," he replied, gesturing with this arms. "Through the water, I can just about make out regular shaped troughs in the floor, with three steps leading down. And look at the lights... some of them are too high to be switched off from the ground. Those would have been turned off by the soldiers in the top bunks. It also explains why there are no bodies. When a place is under attack, soldiers leave the barracks to fight where they're needed. The exits are here and over there," he said, pointing at places in each long wall. "It seems access to this place was by staircase, which has long since been flooded. If we want to leave, we'll have to swim."

"You're right," said Ammon. "I see it now, though I wouldn't have guessed it by myself. Swimming will be dangerous, though. There could be any number of undead down there, and we don't know how long we'll have to swim for until we find a way to the surface. For all we know, the entire place could be flooded completely. There's also the problem of your armour. You're both wearing metal which will drag you down. You'll never be able to swim in it. You'll have to leave it behind."

"There is one way to find out," said Elanee. She turned on the spot and gestured to an open space on the narrow pathway. In her mind, she saw the words she needed, and spoke them quietly. A few weeks ago, this level of magic would have been beyond her. Now, she had regained most of her calmness even though she had almost lost her connection to the land. On the path, a large water elemental formed, summoned from its home plane. She saw herself through its eyes, along the telepathic bond that was formed upon its summoning. "We need to find a way out of here," she said, and gestured at the water. It dived in without creating a single splash, and moved forward fluidly through the water.

"We're fortunate you're as clever as you are beautiful," said Casavir quietly, for her ears alone. He reached out to brush a strand of her behind her ear, and she blushed at his compliment as much as the gesture. He rarely showed his true feelings in public, and she was always thrilled that he only let her see the real Casavir when nobody else was around. It was like living in her own little Casavir-filled world. No matter how tough they both had to be during the day, around the others, they could always relax and be themselves when they were alone. She even found herself wishing Ammon wasn't there, then mentally chided herself. It didn't matte whether Ammon was here or not, because this _certainly_ wasn't the right place to be intimate with someone, regardless of how remote and abandoned it was.

Her attention was drawn back to the water elemental; it had found a way out. The water-filled corridor eventually led to a wide, circular vertical tunnel which went both upwards and downwards, passing different levels. Broken glass littered the pathways and stairwells; it seemed at each level, the 'tunnel' had been capped with glass or crystal, allowing the inhabitants of the city to look up or down without falling, and she quickly realised why. The tunnel upwards led to the same room in which they'd first materialised from the Keep, and in the ceiling of that room was another glass pane; a skylight. Now, the skylight was so overgrown with foul plants that it let no light in. It was a tower, part of a much larger structure, which had been almost entirely flooded. Dead bodies lay suspended within the water, some with flesh still clinging to their bodies. That wasn't a surprise; the water was probably quite devoid of oxygen, and of fish too. There was no way for them to decay, so they were preserved as they had died with only the dull water to affect their corpses. She commanded the elemental to return, and turned back to the others.

"There is a way out," she told them. "The flooded corridor leads to a large vertical tunnel, which in turn leads upwards to room where we first arrived. There are dead bodies everywhere, but they seem inert. I don't believe they've been raised yet, so we might pass them."

"How?" said Ammon.

"Casavir, you still have the rope, don't you?"

"Yes, quite a length of it."

"Then we need to tie it around ourselves, and the elemental can pull us through the water. It is very fast, and will easily take us all with it. I think we can make it to the surface if we hold our breath."

"Hmm," said Ammon thoughtfully. "We're going to get very wet. I hope Zhjaeve still has her True Name scroll, because after this, mine will be useless."

Casavir offloaded his pack and brought out the length of rope, which had lain coiled inside. As the water elemental returned, he tied it first around himself, then around Ammon, and then around Elanee, then gave her the end of the rope.

"You should go first," he said. "To guide the elemental."

She didn't bother explaining to him that she could guide the elemental no matter where she was. She knew he would insist on her going first, and she knew why. If the undead detected their presence and began to stir, whoever was at the back would be most at risk, and he wanted to take that risk himself. And, she knew, that if he proved too heavy for the elemental to pull, and began to slow them down, he would unfasten the rope and allow them to continue without him. She also knew that he would never agree to going first, or even second. It was his duty to protect others, and in his eyes, she and Ammon were more valuable to the cause than he was. But that didn't stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks as she gave the end of the rope to the water elemental. Its watery hand was cold.

"Take us to the surface," she said. Then she took a deep breath and was pulled forward, and the murky dead water embraced her.

o - o - o - o - o

The world seemed to buckle and heave. Something happened in space or time, and Sand ran out of the black fog, dragging a protesting Zhjaeve behind him. In front of him were two ancient grey mummies. He raised his hand and made a circle gesture, and a fireball flew from his fingertips, exploding upon the mummies. He praised himself for having the foresight to prepare a silent-spell or two during his period of Reverie.

The fireball didn't destroy the mummies, but it did panic them, and as one shambled forward to attack and the other tried to flee, Zhjaeve was encompassed by a bright white light of positive energy. Both creatures, more than close enough to be affected, crumbled to dust on the spot.

"Know that I am prepared to give my life to protect the Kalach-cha," she said, turning to face him even as the dust was still settling.

"Yes, well. Be grateful I was there, because if you'd died, Kail would have _killed_ the rest of us. The girl is nothing if not persistent."

"We appear to be alone."

He spun around on the spot and saw that she was right. They'd materialised out of the fog with nobody else around. In fact, the fog wasn't even there anymore, it had completely gone! The room they were standing in now appeared to be some sort of amphitheatre, with long, wide stone benches leading down to the area where they now stood. Small steps had been set into the benches on either side of the room, granting access to the floor. Perhaps this had been some oratory stage, during the height of the Illefarn empire. Perhaps people came here to discuss art, or poetry, or politics, or philosophy... or maybe even magic!

"Well. I wonder where we are. And where everybody else is," he said.

"They cannot be too far away. I am familiar with the method in which we travelled here. On some planes, or for beings powerful enough, there is a way of travelling which involves folding space around oneself. I believe we stepped into one such area of folded space, and entered a conduit, which led us here. As for where the others are... I suspect there were many conduits within that dark fog, and we all entered different ones."

"Can you do this folding space trick to take us back?"

"On limbo, I could, because reality there is mutable. Here, I cannot. It takes powerful magic or an innate ability to move through space or time independently of each other."

"So how did Garius manage it?" he asked, feeling his eyebrows lower into a frown. "If he was capable of doing this, he would simply have created a conduit into Crossroad Keep and sent his legions through. They could have overrun us within moments. Instead, he assaulted the walls."

"Know that Garius is not the one doing this... it is the King of Shadows who is manipulating space here. There are ways of travelling through shadows, by touching the Shadow Plane, and I believe that is what happened with us. The King of Shadows, though still trapped outside of Toril, has been able to open small spaces to the Plane of Shadows. We passed through this transitory plane to arrive here. Most likely, he cannot create these conduits outside of the Claimed Lands. Maybe not even outside the Vale of Meredelain."

"Hmm. We're certainly in over our heads then, aren't we? Time to show our hand. At least, I _think_ that's how the saying goes. I've never been big on gambling."

She didn't ask for an explanation, but simply watched as he dropped his backpack to the floor and opened it up. He dug through a few layers of books and felt his fingers close around a small leather bag. With a smile, he withdrew the bag, then opened it up. When he reached inside, his arm went cold, and he repressed the shiver that travelled along his spine. He thought of the items he wanted, and then brought them out, first the weapon, then the robes. He quickly tied the bag again and put it back in his pack.

"I was not aware you had a bag of holding," said Zhjaeve.

"Yes, I'm sure there are _many_ things of which you are not aware. I find it prudent to keep some things secret." He picked up the grey and silver robe and held it up against himself. It was a little creased, and it was obviously too big for him - its last wearer had been a human - but that didn't matter. Creases wouldn't affect its abilities, and the robe would fit him as soon as he donned it. That was the good thing about enchanted robes; you never had to put up with tailors trying to take them up or down or adjust the sleeves and collar.

"I hardly think this is the time for vanity," she said.

"Vanity? My dear githzerai, these are archmagi robes. Enchanted with defensive spells and quite powerful. If I'm going to be stalked, chased and folded into non-space, I'm going to do it in style, and with as much magical protection as I can muster. Now, turn around." She gave him a steady look. "Please?"

He didn't hear her sigh, but he could see it on her face before she turned and looked out at the high grey wall. Hastily, he pulled his usual robe over his head and donned the archmagi robe. He wasn't convinced that she wouldn't try to peek. Showing copious amounts of skin was all well and good for the wood elves and their wild cousins, but no self-respecting eladrin was seen in less than three or four layers of clothing. This robe was a particularly fine specimen that he'd owned since leaving the Hosttower, and he was fairly certain that by now, its former owner had noticed its absence. The man had been completely undeserving of such a fine robe, though, which had made 'borrowing' it all the easier. The robe had no buttons or ties, it simply closed itself around his body, and would open itself if he thought it. And, as he knew, it fit itself around him as soon as he put it on. He hadn't worn it once so far; he'd been saving it for a special occasion, and it didn't get much more special than wandering through the depths of an ancient elven empire, being hunted by legions of undead monsters. When he turned around, he found Zhjaeve examining the staff he'd taken from the bag of holding.

"Ah-ah!" he cautioned, snatching it from her with as much care as he could muster. "This is _extremely_ volatile. In the wrong hands - let us say, Qara's hands - it could explode."

"Why do you possess such a dangerous weapon?" she asked, her pale eyes luminous and pained. She still hadn't quite recovered from her back being broken, he realised.

"Because it's also an extremely _powerful_ weapon. Staff of the magi are very rare, and _very_ expensive."

"So how did you come by this one?"

"Startear was selling it," he shrugged. "We made a deal."

"Know that it was foolish of you to do so."

"What, Ammon can make deals with devils and demons, but I shouldn't make a deal with a simple tiefling wizard?"

"There is nothing simple about Startear, Sand."

"Yes, yes, I do recall your dire warnings. Now, should we take a look around and see if we can find anything useful, or start searching for the others?"

"We must find the Kalach-cha."

"I thought you'd say that," he sighed. "Do you have any idea what most scholars would give to explore the ruins of ancient Illefarn? We have here a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

"And if the minions of the King of Shadows catch up with us, it will be a very short lifetime."

"Alright, you've made your point," he said. "But if we're ambushed again, you're to let me handle things. Don't think I can't see how tired you are, or how much this has taken out of you. You should be in bed resting, not gallivanting around-"

"Sand, I have heard all of this before from Kail. We are wasting valuable time. Wherever Kail is, she will be looking for Neeshka, and we must find her before Garius does."

"I know. And we will. Now, do you have any idea which way we should go?"

o - o - o - o - o

The world seemed to buckle and heave. Something happened in space or time, and Kail was flung out of the black fog, tripping over Grobnar who had fallen over. She fell to the floor and the Sword of Gith went clattering across the ground towards a sheer edge half a dozen paces away. She pushed herself up and flung herself at the blade, and caught it with two fingers and her thumb as it started to slide over the edge. Slowly, she pulled it back towards her, and her heart began to steady itself in her chest. She had almost lost the Sword for good, that time! And if she lost the Sword, she would lose a part of herself.

"Dreadfully sorry," said Grobnar, helping her back away from the edge. "Don't know what happened. One moment I was going forward, and the next somebody was tripping me! Oh no, Mister Pointy!" He made a dash back towards the black fog, but too late. It seemed to fall in on itself, and then disappeared without a trace. "I didn't see him near the portal. Did you? What if he was left behind with all those vampires and shadows?"

"It's okay, Grobnar," she said, as soothingly as she could. "Mister Pointy's a strong golem, the shadows can't hurt him, and he doesn't have any blood for the vampires to drink. They'll probably ignore him and come after us instead." After all, the golem couldn't be hurt. It didn't have flesh. Unlike Neeshka, who could already be dead by now. But she didn't say this last part to Grobnar, it would only upset him further.

"Oh, what a relief! Not that they'll come after us, of course. No, that quite fills me with dread. But at least Mister Pointy will be alright." He leant forward over the edge. "I say, we're rather high up, aren't we!"

Kail followed him, and looked down. Beneath them were grey paths and bridges all criss-crossing each other, with steps up to some levels and down to others. She looked up, and saw nothing above them but grey stone ceiling, and the grey path they were standing on followed the walls and crossed to the other side of the huge room by an arching grey bridge. There were many doors set into their side of the wall, and into the wall on the other side of the bridge, too. But there was no telling how sturdy those bridges were, after all this time. Crossing one would probably be suicide.

"You don't think the others went over the egde, do you?" he asked nervously.

"No. We were the first ones into the black fog, and the only ones to come out. Either the others didn't follow us in, or they did follow but ended up... somewhere else."

"Oh dear, what should we do? Should we look for them? They could be anywhere! Looking at this place, it seems to be some sort of tower, but I don't remember seeing anything like a tower in either of those rooms we were in before. And this place doesn't smell flooded, either. Maybe we're not even in the same set of ruins as the others anymore!" At that moment, a sharp whistle sounded from somewhere below, echoing its way around the tower. Kail quickly clamped a hand over Grobnar's mouth.

"It's a trick," she whispered. "Keep very, very quiet." He nodded, and she released his head.

"But what if it's one of the others?" he whispered back.

"It isn't. It's the undead, looking for us. They want us to make a noise so they can track us down."

"But... um... the undead don't really breathe, do they? So how could they whistle?"

"Bishop's here somewhere, and he _can_ whistle."

"Oh, excellent point! I hadn't thought of that, you know. But don't worry, that whistle sounded like it came from quite a way off. And if he does show up, I'll protect you!"

"What is it about men needing to have somebody to protect?" she asked wryly.

"Well, I suppose it sounds a bit better than 'I'll die horribly with you'."

"I suppose it does at that. So... which way do you think we should go?"

"You're asking _me_?"

"You've as much idea about this place as I have," she shrugged. "Besides, when I make the decisions, terrible things tend to happen. Maybe somebody else should lead for a while."

"Well... maybe we could have a look inside one of these doors," he suggested, gesturing at the stone doors on their side of the wall.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt," she said. Together they approached the nearest door and pushed it open. The room inside it was empty apart from dead bodies. She would have found it more comforting if there had been cobwebs with spiders crawling in them, but even the spiders and the flies knew better than to come here.

The next door they came to was locked, and wouldn't open no matter how many times they tried magically and mechanically. None of Grobnar's spells or picks would work, so they gave up, and moved on to the next door. This one opened quite easily, but was empty apart from a stone altar upon a dais. She wondered what sort of things had gone on in this room. Was it a prayer room? Was it a shrine to a god? Was it somewhere to heal the sick? It was such a shame that these questions would never be answered. A shame that there was nobody left to answer them.

The next door they entered was empty even of bodies, and so was the next. But the one after that did have something in it; a Shadow Reaver. As soon as she saw its skeletal grin, Kail's skin went cold. She dragged Grobnar out of the room as the Reaver took a step forward, and pushed him in front of her, towards the stone bridge that spanned the width of the room.

"Go!" she shouted. "Run!"

She was only a pace behind him when they reached the middle of the bridge, only a pace behind him when she heard the stones beneath her feet begin to crack and loosen. And as the bridge gave way beneath her, she leapt forward, reaching out desperately for something to cling on to.

o - o - o - o - o

Khelgar took another step forward and Qara followed behind. They walked by the light of her small spell-wrought orb, which barely seemed to penetrate the darkness before them. The door they'd entered had been a long corridor, which led out into another room, also full of doors. They'd argued, then. Qara had wanted to go back and try another door, but Khelgar had wanted to continue on their current route, picking a door from the new room. In the end, he'd told her to suit herself, and gone on with his own plan. She'd followed a few minutes later, but she definitely wasn't happy about it.

In the new room, behind the first door they opened were a flight of steps leading down, but they were completely covered in water. Neither of them wanted to get wet, so they'd closed the door and moved on. The second door had led to what appeared to be an empty store room. Bodies had been piled up inside it, but there was little else of note. The third door had proven to be another corridor, and they were walking down this now. In the very distance, he thought he could see faint blue light, and he hoped to Clangeddin that it was some of those blue crystal lights.

And they did indeed step out into another crystal-lit room. But it was a strange room. His path ended in a ledge, which ran the length of the wall. There was a drop of about twenty-five feet, and then a second stone floor beneath them. This floor was about forty feet wide, and then on the other side of the room was another vertical rise and a path just like the one he was on. The room reminded him somewhat of a gladiator's pit, but that surely couldn't be. Illefarn had been a place of learning and culture. It wouldn't have had fighting pits and the like. The elves just didn't go in for that sort of thing... unless they were drow.

"What is this place?" Qara asked, looking around. Her light crossbow was loaded and ready to fire. He knew how she felt. Something about this whole place just put him on edge, and he didn't think it was the hordes of ravenous undead. People trying to kill him was common fare these days. It wasn't even worth getting out of bed unless some monster or other tried to do eviscerate him. No, this place had a different kind of badness. A _spiritual_ badness.

There was movement on the other side of the chasm, and a figure entered the room through a dark doorway. It was an elf; his clothes were shining with a bright silver light, wreathing him in an unearthly nimbus. Khelgar felt his insides turn a little bit colder. Was this some sort of spirit of Illefarn, come back to haunt them, or to impart words of wisdom to them? When the elf saw him, it turned its head to address something behind it.

"See, I told you I'd heard something," he said. Zhjaeve stepped out of the dark doorway.

"Sand?" he asked in surprise.

"Last time I checked," the elf replied drily.

"Great," Qara mumbled.

"Have you seen the Kalach-cha?" Zhjaeve called out.

"No!" he shouted back. "Yer the first people we've seen since we got out of the black fog!"

"We saw some mummies," said Sand. "But we haven't seen anybody else. We've been walking around for an hour, trying to find out where we are, trying to locate anybody else."

"Yeah this is all well and good," said Qara, "but I don't see any way across this room. There's no steps anywhere. No way to cross the floor, unless one of you has spontaneously developed the ability to levitate."

"Stay where you are," said Zhjaeve. "We will try to find a way to reach you from elsewhere on this side. The Illefarn must have had some way of crossing this room."

"Bah, stay where ye are instead," he called. "We'll find a way t' get t' ye!"

"I suggest," said Sand, "that we all go back the way we came, then you go left and we go right. We should meet up somewhere, eventually."

"Alright, we'll see ye soon. Come on, lass," he said, gesturing for Qara to follow him. "I'm getting mighty fed up of this place. The sooner we're back together again, the sooner we can get out of here."

o - o - o - o - o

"Casavir, watch out behind you!" Elanee called. The vampire that had been trying to slice the paladin's head off with a scythe instead found its weapon whistling through empty air as Casavir ducked. Elanee turned her attention back to her own opponent. The wraith was fast, but its incorporeal body could be hurt by the Daystar, which Kail had lent to her before they'd set out from the Keep. _'You'll find this of use against the undead'_ the bard had said. _'I don't need it anymore.'_

She slashed at the thing with the fiery sword, and each time she hit it, though she couldn't feel it as a physical blow, the thing screeched in agony. She had to deal with the wraith quickly. Casavir was already fighting both a shadow priest and a vampire, whilst Ammon was engaged in a magical duel with a lich that had appeared from nowhere. The old man looked strained, and she knew he was throwing everything he had at the lich, and using every last ounce of energy he possessed to protect her and Casavir from its magical attacks. And to make matters worse, they were all wearing heavy, dripping wet, freezing cold clothes. Moving was hard, and her muscles felt sluggish. _Like a serpent,_ she thought, _before basking in the sun._

When at last the wraith she was battling disintegrated, she sheathed the Daystar and turned her attention to her friends. Raising both hands, she spoke the words of power and saw clouds forming in the air twenty feet above her head. Rain began to fall, acid-green rain that burnt the vampire, shadow priest and the lich but touched neither her, nor Casavir or Ammon. Bolts of lightning accompanied the acid, striking at each victim. The shadow-priest died quickly, but the vampire fled, turning itself to its misty form to avoid damage to its body. _Coward_ she thought. The lich didn't seem to be affected by the storm much, but now its focus had changed. It no longer saw Ammon as the biggest threat. Instead, it turned to her, and began casting a spell.

"Everybody run!" Ammon shouted as he dashed away from the lich. She didn't understand. Surely now, while they had the thing surrounded, was the best time to strike. Then she heard a noise from above, and looked up to see huge blocks of stone hurtling towards the ground, smashing into paths and bridges on their way down. She started running, but was too late. Though the heaviest blocks and most of the debris landed on the lich, a smaller piece of masonry flew towards her and caught her on the back of the head. She went staggering as pain tore through her entire body, and before she knew it she was on the cold floor in a pool of warm blood. _Her blood_.

"Elanee, hold on!" said Casavir. He was above her, looking down on her. She hadn't seen him approach. How had he gotten there so fast? Fear and pain painted his face. They were expressions she had never seen from him before. She must be very badly hurt, for him to show his emotions so openly. Funny, but she couldn't feel the pain anymore. She couldn't even feel the floor beneath her. But she _did_ feel his hands on her face as he channelled healing magic through his body and into hers. It revived her a little. She became conscious of the pain again. Everything hurt, now, and she felt warm tears trickling down her face. "Ammon, do you have any healing potions?" She heard the desperation in Casavir's voice.

"I'm sorry, no. What she needs is the githzerai. Or Kail. If Kail was here, she could use the Arvahn healing ritual."

"That doesn't help me!" He was angry, now. She hadn't heard him this angry before, and he was angry because of her.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"No, no, it's alright," he said, his voice now soft and understanding. "Just lie still. Try not to move. I promise, I won't let you die."

"I love you," she said. It came out as little more than a whisper. It was all she could manage.

"There must be something you can do!" said Casavir to Ammon. There were tears in his eyes, now. It hurt her, to see him cry. His hands were warm where they cupped her face.

"I suppose there is, at that," the warlock replied after a moment. "Give me a minute."

"Hold on, Elanee," said Casavir. "Just hold on."

"Tell me you love me," she pleaded in another whisper. Her vision was darkening now, and her body felt cold all over. "Just tell me."

"I will tell you, when you're recovered. You're not allowed to die. It's my new rule."

"What's the punishment for breaking your rule?"

"Damnit, Ammon, what are you doing?" Casavir's voice was harsh. Why wouldn't he just tell her that he loved her? Why wouldn't he let her go in peace? There was a scratching sound from the floor nearby, like chalk on a slate.

"Observe," said Ammon. Something must have happened, because the warlock let out a hiss of pain, and then there was the sound of liquid drops splashing on the floor. A flash of red light followed, and then she could sense... a presence. It was not a comforting presence.

"You should not have summoned me here, Ammon Jerro," said a cold, familiar voice. "There are forces at work in this place that even I dare not interfere with."

"I brought you here to make another deal with you, Mephasm. And you won't be required to interfere with the forces here. I simply wish you to save this woman's life."

"Simply, you say? And yet she is close to death, and she knows it. Such a feat will not be simple, and the price will be heavy."

"No heavier than what I already owe, I'm sure."

"Ammon, no," said Casavir. "I cannot ask you to do this. If anyone should pay the price, it should be me."

"Ha! You? I think not, boy. Your god won't protect a soul who makes deals with devils. Isn't that right, Mephasm?"

"I've always thought the gods to be fickle creatures," said Mephasm.

"No, Casavir," Ammon continued. "This will be my debt to pay. I couldn't save Shandra, but perhaps all that I have done in the past, and all that I will do in the future, can be put to some good now. Perhaps I can save the woman you love. And I will bear the price for it. You may make your mark, Mephasm."

Elanee screamed as her body was filled with energy and light. It enveloped her, rushing into her, fixing what was wrong with her, putting things back in the right place. Compared to divine healing, it was like being plunged into a barrel of fire and ice, and it seemed to last for hours. When at last it ceased, she opened her eyes and found herself in Casavir's arms. Of Mephasm, there was no sign, other than the remnants of a chalk pentacle on the floor. And when she looked at Ammon, she saw he had another tattoo on his face, one that ran down his left cheek and curved towards his ear, and he was wrapping a bandage around his blood-stained hand.

"Thank you," she said, finally breathing normally once more.

"Ammon," said Casavir, his voice rumbling in his chest beside her ear. "I-"

"Enough," said Ammon. "I neither require nor desire your thanks. And I do not wish to speak of this again. We need to go, now, before whoever sent those rocks crashing down comes back to finish the job." Casavir helped Elanee up, and she walked cautiously towards the fallen blocks of stone. The lich was lying crushed and buried beneath them, probably dead.

"Do you think it was someone trying to help us, or kill us?" she asked, looking up. The falling masonry had taken large chunks out of several bridges and paths on its way down. Whatever this place was, or had been, it would now be very difficult to get to the top.

"Maybe neither, maybe both," said Ammon cryptically.

"Bishop," Casavir growled.

"If Bishop is up there," the warlock replied, looking at the floor. "That begs the question of who's been down here?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Here, look." He crouched down to pick at something on the floor. "Bread crumbs. With seeds in them. And they're leading off in that direction." He pointed to an open doorway.

"Some of our companions must have left this trail for us to follow!" said Casavir.

"Or," Ammon replied, "some of our companions have been captured, and this trail set falsely to lead us into a trap. In case you'd forgotten, Neeshka was taken as soon as we entered the Vale, and she had the same supplies as the rest of us. I think it far more likely that Garius has been here. Just think; if we had seen the crumbs, we would have been standing almost right where that pile of stones fell. We would all have been crushed to death. But we didn't see the crumbs until I was drawing my pentagram on the floor, and noticed them lying there. In light of recent circumstances, I would prefer to err on the side of caution."

"I think you're right," she said. The man _had_ just saved her life at great expense to himself, after all. And his logic was sound enough.

"Where to, then?" Casavir asked. She noted he was now deferring to the older man, where before they had vied for leadership.

"Through one of those other doors, on the other side of the room, I think," said Ammon.

"Very well. I just ask one thing." He waited for Ammon to nod before continuing. "If we come across Bishop, you leave him for me."

o - o - o - o - o

Far above the fallen debris, Kail clung desperately to the ruined edge of the bridge. She'd already thrown the Sword clear, and now it lay waiting for her, tantalisingly out of reach. But her fingers were slipping; she could find no purchase on the stone, and gravity was working against her. This time, when she fell, there would be nobody to pick her up.

"I'm coming, Kail!" said Grobnar. He crawled out to the ledge and wrapped both his hands around her wrists. She could have laughed! _I must weigh twice as much as Grobnar,_ she thought. _I should just let go. It's not fair to drag him down with me_. But her body refused to obey. Letting go wasn't something it knew how to do. It only knew how to fight, and she would fight until the end. Perhaps it made her selfish. A better person would have let go to save a friend from falling too. But she wasn't a good person. She knew that, now.

"Bull's strength!" cried Grobar. She saw the spell taking its effect as a magical glow around his body. Then he was practically hauling her upwards by himself. He helped her crawl along what remained of the bridge, and they lay at the other side panting with fear and strain.

"Thank you, Grobnar," she said, and pulled the tiny man into a tight hug.

"Having... a little... trouble... breathing..." he wheezed.

"Sorry." She let him go, and shakily managed to stand. She picked up the Sword and put it through her belt. Then she looked back at the ruined bridge, and at the Reaver standing on the other side.

"You can run, shard-bearer," he called across. "But you are outnumbered. We will find you, and flay your skin from your body one strip at a time."

"But first you'll have to catch me!" she called back. Then, quietly to Grobnar, "come on, let's go."

They entered a doorway and found themselves in a long empty room. They crossed the room then descended the flight of stairs, which appeared to be the only place to go. This led them out onto another pathway, running along the inside of the tower, and the only way to cross was by bridge. She was loathe to cross another, but her only other option was staying up there with the Reaver until one of them died of hunger or thirst, and she didn't think it would be the Reaver.

Thankfully, they reached the opposite end of the bridge without any problems, but found their path ahead had been damaged by a part of the falling bridge from above. There was a gaping hole where the path should have continued, too wide for either of them to jump. They were forced to enter another doorway, and this time they passed through several rooms, only to ascend a flight of stairs.

There seemed to be no method to the madness. Sometimes going down meant first going up to access a different fight of stairs. Sometimes the bridges and paths were too badly damaged by fallen stone to continue, or had been destroyed entirely. They did manage, slowly, to make some progress, but she spent most of her time looking up, wondering how the Reaver would follow her down. Surely a bit of broken bridge would only delay it for so long.

"Ah, there you are, shard-bearer." She froze at the sound of the voice behind her. It was a different voice, this time, but still the voice of a Reaver. She didn't even bother turning to engage it in witty banter. She simply grabbed Grobnar's hand and ran, dragging him along behind her when he struggled to keep up. Through rooms they ran, up flights of stairs, along bridges, down stairs, through more rooms, down again, then across a bridge only to go back up. Without Ammon or Zhjaeve to read the names of the Reavers, she knew she would be no match for the undead wizards. The only thing she could do was run, and hope that her friends were doing better than she was.

She ran down a flight of stairs and followed the path out into the inside of the tower. They were halfway down, now, and she was gasping for breath. Her legs ached from running up and down steps, but she was forced to stop. Ahead of them, the path became a bridge, with a quarter of its own length missing just above its arched crest. In the room behind, there was no other door. This was the only way down.

"You see, shard-bearer," said a Reaver, appearing in the doorway behind her. "Running is futile. A waste of your energy."

"Grobnar, we're going to have to jump," she said quietly, looking at the gap in the bridge. It was too far for him to jump. It was too far for _her_ to jump. She knew it, but she also knew she would rather fall to her death than let this thing catch her.

"Cat's Grace," Grobnar whispered. At his touch, she felt a spell rushing through her body. Her limbs because more supple, her balance improved and she knew she could throw a knife at a pinhead a hundred paces away and still hit it, so good was her aim. Before the Reaver could react, she grabbed Grobnar around his waist, ran towards the edge of the bridge, and jumped. Her heart tried to leap out of her chest as her body braced itself for imminent death. Adrenaline flooded through her body, and for the briefest of moments she felt as if she was flying. Then reality caught up with her. Her feet landed on the far side of the bridge, and she and Grobnar were both thrown forward, crashing painfully into the wall.

"You can't escape, shard-bearer!" the Reaver roared in frustration. "We will find you no matter where you run!"

Peeling herself off the wall, she took Grobnar's hand and began running again. She would run for as long as it took to evade them. They would never catch her.

o - o - o - o - o

"This is where we first appeared," said Khelgar, leading Sand and Zhjaeve out onto the open floor of the tower. Qara followed behind, with her little white light bobbing above her head. "By Clangeddin's beard!" he swore when he saw a huge pile of fallen stone blocks littering the floor. "This wasn't here when we left!"

"You can't escape, shard-bearer!" screamed a rasping voice from above. "We will find you no matter where you run!"

"The Kalach-cha is in trouble!" said Zhjaeve, her pale eyes glowing fiercely.

"Kail!" he yelled up into the air above. "We're down here!"

"Khelgar!" Kail's voice was like music to his ears. Grobnar's was not.

"I say, Sir Khelgar, we're having the most fantastic adventure up here!" the gnome called. "We're being chased by two Reavers. Maybe three! Oh, and have you seen Mister Pointy anywhere?"

"Kail, where are you?" Sand shouted. A few levels up, two small heads appeared over the side of a bridge.

"It's hard getting down," she called. "The paths are all twisting and turning. Are you all alright? There was somebody down there, before. Both Grobnar and I felt magical energy, right before the bridge I was on collapsed. I think it might have landed on someone!"

"Oh, Kail, look!" said Grobnar. From below, he saw the gnome's arm, tiny at this distance, pointing at something above. "The Reavers have found a way down. And there _are_ three of them. I knew it!"

"We're coming down!" Kail yelled, and both heads disappeared.

"I have an idea," said Sand. "Zhjaeve, be ready to read those true names." From his pocket, the elf took a scroll, and began reading the words. Whatever the spell was, it must have been a pretty powerful one, because it took him almost two full minutes to read it. Then the scroll crumbled to dust, and Sand began to change. He grew larger, and wings sprouted from his back.

By the time his hands and feed had turned to talons, everybody had backed away by at least twenty paces. What finally stood in the centre of the room was a large, red dragon. It raised its great wings, flapped them once, and was airborne. But it was an ungainly flight; he had to avoid the bridges and paths above him, all the while watching out for Kail and Grobnar, and the Shadow Reavers. After a few minutes of flight he must have seen something, because he flew at the wall and landed on it, literally attaching himself to it via his sharp-taloned claws. Bricks fell down onto the floor, but it was the only way he could safely land. The bridges would have been far too fragile to bear his weight.

Two small figures approached the dragon from an open doorway and crawled onto one of his feet. Then the dragon released the wall, and spread his wings as he fell to the floor, narrowly avoiding hitting every bridge on the way down. He alighted on the pile of stone and rock, and Kail and Grobnar slipped down from his foot, all but rolling down the mound of debris.

"Kalach-cha, are you well?" asked Zhjaeve, rushing forward.

"Lass, it's good to see ye!" he added.

"Has anybody seen Mister Pointy?" Grobnar asked hopefully.

"Zhjaeve, I think you should read the true names now!" said Kail as Sand flapped his wings again and took to the air. "Everybody else, get ready."

"What's going on here?" Ammon's gruff voice rang out clearly from the other side of the room, and he appeared with both Casavir and Elanee behind him.

"Ammon!" Kail called. "You need to read your true name scroll! There are three Reavers up there! Sand's gone to keep them busy while Zhjaeve starts on her scroll."

"My scroll was badly damaged when we were forced to swim," said Ammon, and for the first time, he noticed all three of them were dripping wet. "But perhaps I can help buy some time." Then _he_ began to change, too. He was surrounded by darkness, and when it cleared, all that was left of Ammon was a tall, winged devil with horrible spikes running all over its back. The devil flapped its wings rapidly several times and began to fly, far more ungainly than Sand had managed, but flight was flight.

Khelgar shook his head. It wasn't right, things turning into other things like that. And fighting where he couldn't reach! He would be giving those two a piece of his mind, whenever they came down. As magic and fire began to fly through the air above, Kail drew the Sword of Gith from her belt.

"It's time to finish this," she said. Khelgar grinned, and readied the Hammer of Ironfist. He might not be able to fly, but he would pound anything that fell into bonemeal paste. This victory, he would dedicate to Keros. Because nobody killed an Ironfist and got away with it!


	106. River

_I'm not sure how well this chapter works. I wrote parts of it over 2 years ago. I'm sure you'll all let me know. Either way, Kail's Story will be finished this weekend._

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_106. River_

The fighting had been fierce, and nobody had come away unscathed. Grobnar and Elanee had been burnt by a fireball thrown by a Reaver. Casavir had had most of his strength drained by a powerful spell. Zhjaeve had been knocked unconscious by a huge elemental summoned by another Reaver. Qara had tripped over a piece of fallen debris, breaking her wrist when she landed heavily on the floor. Sand and Ammon, in their respective dragon and devil forms, had been battered and bruised by two tanar'ri demons summoned from the Abyss. Kail and Khelgar, meanwhile, had been beset by zombies and skeletons which had come pouring out of the doorways leading out of the room.

As Elanee healed Zhjaeve and helped the githzerai to stand, Kail sat down with her back against a large slab of fallen rock. She placed the Sword on the floor by her side, then let her body relax, all of her weight leaning against the rock. Her body hurt in the places she'd been cut, and her clothes were slowly being stained red with blood. But compared to most of the others, her injuries weren't severe. No arteries had been severed, no bones had been broken, no major organs had been pierced. She could wait for healing until the others had been seen to.

"I always did hate fighting mages," said Khelgar, sitting down beside her. Most of his cuts were to his face; his thick plate armour had protected most of his body. "They always fight dirty."

"I think those were the last of the Reavers," she said. "If Garius had any more of them, he would have sent them with these. He's not holding anything back, now."

"We're getting close to him, then."

"Yes. But he's not the one I'm worried about."

"Given enough time, even the highest mountain will be worn low," said Elanee as she restored Casavir's strength. "As it is with nature, it shall be with the Guardian."

With both Zhjaeve and Casavir now back to their normal, healthy selves, it didn't take long for them to help Elanee treat the group's injuries. Once everybody had been patched up with spells or bandages, and Qara had stopped whining that her wrist still hurt, they moved a distance away from the Reaver bodies and fallen masonry debris to eat some of their food and recount what had happened since they'd been separated.

"We ended up in some sort of auditorium," said Sand. "Then we wandered around for a bit, looking for signs of life. Or unlife, as the case may be. This place, by the way, is huge. Why is it that nobody in the Mere knew about it?"

"We must be deep within the Mere," Kail shrugged. "My people didn't leave West Harbor much, but when they did, it was usually to travel towards the edges of the Mere, not further into it. Unless there was a particularly dangerous lizardling threat, of course."

"There is also the fact that much of this place is under water," said Elanee. "I believe that the land has begun to subside, maybe because of the weight of the structures built here, maybe because of the Guardian's influence."

"Why would the Illefarn have built this place in a swamp?" asked Casavir. "Such unstable ground does not make for good foundations."

"It probably wasn't a swamp, back then. Most likely it was fertile, low-lying plains. Only the gods know what truly happened. Maybe a river's course changed, and the land started to become flooded. Maybe the sea started encroaching onto the land. Maybe an aquifer formed under the buildings themselves. Whatever this place used to be, it wasn't small. We're inside a tower and the moment, and that place near the barracks that we swam through, that was a tower too, only most of it had subsided already. If Sand was inside an auditorium, and we already know that there's many other huge rooms, this place must have been quite important to the Illefarn."

"Did any of you see any sign of Neeshka?" Kail asked. She no longer cared about where she was or what this place had been. All she wanted to do was find her friend and get this over and done with.

"We saw no sign of anybody, other than the crumbs leading out of this room," said Ammon. "I feared that Garius had set a false trail for us to follow, but now I know better. Harrol and Gertha indeed," he snorted.

"But if this place is as huge as you all say," said Qara, "how are we even going to _find_ Garius? We could wander around for weeks. And for all we know, we might be cut off from him by more flooded rooms and corridors."

"Maybe we should split up again," said Khelgar. "Search the place high and low."

"No," said Kail. "No more splitting up. No more fighting desperately for our lives. Garius and the King of Shadows are doing everything they can to drive us apart. It started months ago, with dreams designed to sow seeds of fear and dissension. Then they attacked us directly. Then they forcibly split us up. It's what they _want_, because when we're all together, they fear us."

"Know that it is more likely they fear _you_, Kalach-cha," said Zhjaeve. "It is you whom they have attacked most. They attacked you and your allies at Neverwinter Castle. They took your home and your people from you. They took your friend, and tried to take your life. They wish to strip you of allies, because this will make it easier for them to strike at you. When we were all separated, it was _you_ the Reavers came after. Not us."

"But that doesn't help us to find Garius," said Ammon gruffly.

"Know that the Guardian is most likely at the heart of this place. Garius will be close by."

"Wonderful," said Sand. "Now all we need is a map to tell us where we are, where the centre of this place is, and how we can get there avoiding flooded corridors and hordes of ravenous undead."

"Not a map," said Casavir. "A guide. We must find one of Garius' servants and instruct it to lead us to him."

"That won't work," said Elanee. "The undead won't obey a command from anybody except the one who raised them. And you can't threaten them into complying with you, because they fear nothing, not even death."

"Ooh, ooh, I have an idea!" said Grobnar.

"Great," said Sand.

"I know where we can get a map! Or, at the very least, a guide."

"Let's hear it," said Kail.

"Well, Mister Pointy-"

"Always with the golem," Sand complained. "Do you think of nothing else?"

"Of course, I often think of other things; songs, spells, inventions, the shapes that clouds make in the sky, the meaning of life, why we don't all fall off the ground into the air if we jump really high... but what I was going to say is that Mister Pointy is an Illefarn golem. He probably knows this place like the back of his hand. All I need to do is activate the dormant part of his instructions that pertains to this area, and he'll be able to lead us straight to Garius!"

"Grobnar, you're a genius," she smiled.

"Yes," said Sand. "The single but yet vital flaw with that plan is that the golem isn't _here_. It got left behind when we were all teleported by that strange black fog."

"Ammon, Casavir and I passed that very same room on our way here," said Elanee. "And the golem wasn't there anymore, Grobnar."

"Well, that's understandable," said the gnome unphased. "I programmed him to come and find me if he's left alone for longer than ten minutes. By the time that instruction kicked in, I would have been at the top of this tower, and then moving slowly downwards erratically, which would have made it hard for him to find me. Now that we're stationary, all we have to do is wait. Mister Pointy will be able to find me quite easily now."

"If that construct turns out to be good for something after all, this may not have been a total waste of our time," said Ammon.

"Alright, Grobnar, we'll wait for Mister Pointy," said Kail. "I suggest everybody eats as much as they need, and then spends their time sharpening weapons or resting. As soon as that golem gets here, I want to be gone."

There were no more words. Sand took out a book and started reading; she recognised it as the one 'Startear' had left for him. Elanee and Zhjaeve closed their eyes in meditation, whilst Casavir took out a rag and began polishing his hammer. Khelgar drank his wine, then helped himself to Casavir and Zhjaeve's too. Qara conjured two balls of light out of air and began juggling them. Ammon, unable to sit still, began pacing back and forth, glancing occasionally at the pile of fallen debris. His lips moved silently, and she wondered what was on his mind. But she didn't ask. Whatever it was, he wouldn't let it get in the way of defeating the Guardian. And she wouldn't let anything get in her way either.

o - o - o - o - o

The only sound was of ten pairs of footsteps echoing down the dark stone corridor. First was the construct, and every time it stepped its armoured feet thudded heavily on the floor. Grobar was beside it, holding its hand. His footsteps were almost inaudible compared to the golem's. Right behind them was Kail, her leather boots almost as quiet as Grobnar's. Ammon was behind her, and he strode with confidence and determination. His footsteps were heavy and regular, and seemed to serve as a herald for his presence. Elanee and Casavir were behind Ammon; Casavir rattled somewhat when he walked, and Elanee's elven chainmail chimed like music, her scale-mail boots much quieter than Casavir's full plate armour. Sand came next, passing almost silently along the corridor, followed by Zhajeve and Qara. The sorcererss' slippers shuffled quietly as she walked, dragging her feet, but Zhjaeve strode almost as surely as Ammon. Bringing up the rear and guarding their backs, Khelgar in his dwarven plate armour was almost as noisy as Casavir.

When Sand cleared his throat, the noise echoed down the corridor and seemed entirely out of place. The further into the inner sanctum they went, the more it seemed like silence was expected of them. They'd set out from the tower room, once Grobnar had finished tinkering with the golem, talking in normal voices. After an hour they'd been reduced to whispers. Now, nobody spoke unless absolutely necessary, and when they did, it was as much with hand gestures as it was with words.

_Why is it,_ Kail thought_, that the bigger the place we occupy, the smaller and quieter we think we have to be?_ In the Flagon, nobody had tried to be quiet, unless they were speaking privately. Talking quietly would have been entirely out of place. And yet when she had visited the large temple of the Morning Lord in Neverwinter, she had been overwhelmed by the desire to talk in whispers. And when she did talk, it was as if her voice was trying to fill all of the empty space. The air had taken her words and tried to amplify them, to make the vastness a little more full. _The bigger the place, the louder the silence._ It sounded suitably philosophical, and she was in a philosophical place right now. The time seemed right to contemplate the small, unimportant things, otherwise she would be left to dwell on the large, extremely important things. And one of the large, extremely important things was now rearing its ugly head.

"Grobnar," she said quietly. "Are you sure Mister Pointy is safe? What if proximity to the Guardian somehow... over-writes the instructions you've given him."

"Complete, positively, absolutely improbable!" he replied.

"But improbable isn't the same as impossible."

"Well, you know what I say. Never say never."

Silence draped itself over the small group once more as they passed down winding cold corridors lit only by the strange, blue crystals. Whatever the crystals were, they either had power of their own or were being powered by the Guardian. If it was the latter, what would happen when the Guardian was destroyed? Would the lights wink out, leaving them to stumble around in darkness? And why didn't the undead fear these lights, as they had the ghost-lights in the mines of Arvahn? She was so preoccupied with her own thoughts that she didn't notice Grobnar stop, and she walked into the back of the construct, which didn't even react to her.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, craning her neck around the golem to see what lay ahead.

"No, we've just reached a door. A rather large door," said Grobnar. "I think this may be the Guardian's inner sanctum.

Her heart skipped a beat, then began fluttering in her chest. Fear flowed through her veins, trying to make her dizzy and light-headed. She put a hand on the golem to steady herself as everybody else crowded around to look at the door.

"Know that I sense a strong, malevolent presence behind this door," said Zhjaeve.

"This must be where the taint is coming from. The taint which is poisoning the land," Elanee added, her face both fierce and grim. Kail had almost forgotten that this was the reason Elanee was here. The druid wanted to free the land from the influence of the King of Shadows as much as Kail wanted to destroy the Guardian for taking everything from her. Casavir seemed to pick up on her thoughts.

"There are right and wrong reasons for fighting," he said. "To destroy the King of Shadows because it is a threat to everything we hold dear is an honourable reason to fight. But to destroy it for revenge... I worry about what will happen to you, if you go into this with vengeance in your heart."

"Thank you, mister pot," she said. "I'll be sure to remind you of that when you find Bishop."

"That is different."

"We can stand here splitting hairs all day," said Ammon. "But I'm not getting any younger, and the Guardian isn't getting any weaker. If we are going to do this, it must be now, before anything else can go wrong, before any more of us can be taken."

"Aye, lass," said Khelgar. "We shouldn't waste any more time. We still have t' get Neeshka back."

"You're right," she said. Then she took a deep breath, and drew the Sword into her right hand. "Grobnar, ask the golem to open the door."

Slowly, the heavy door swung open, and Kail look out into the largest and most impressive room she had seen yet. It was huge and circular, with a high domed ceiling that disappeared into darkness. Towards the back of the room was a huge statue, the head of an elven woman rising out of the ground. Her two hands were also rising out of the ground before her, and in them were clasped two large, blue crystals, dazzlingly bright. Around this statue were other statues, larger versions of the Ritual of Purification statues, forming a circle almost protectively. At a space equidistant from both huge stone hands, was a black, swirling disc, stood upright and large enough for several golems to step through.

"The portal to the Plane of Shadows!" said Zhjaeve, a touch of awe in her voice. "We are here."

There was a whimpering sound from further in the room, and a figure, tiny beside one of the large hands, moved as if pained. Whoever it was was crouched down, their arms wrapped around their own body as if afraid to be seen or touched. But Kail would have recognised the outline of the person anywhere. She took a step forward.

"Neeshka?"

The figure's head whipped around as she pushed herself shakily to her feet.

"K-Kail?" Neeshka's voice was tremulous; she didn't seem to believe what she was seeing with her own eyes. Then, her voice hardened. "Stay away from me!"

"But Neeshka, it's me," she said, taking another few steps towards her. Neeshka backed away, stepping closer to the portal, and Kail stopped moving in alarm. She didn't know why Neeshka was trying to run away from her, but if her friend was so scared that she risked stepping into the shadow-portal just to get away... she couldn't let that happen.

"Will you allow me to tend to you, Neeshka?" asked Zhjaeve, stepping forward. Neeshka closed her eyes and nodded. "Elanee, I could use your help." Together, Elanee and Zhjaeve walked quickly towards the tiefling and began working their healing magic on her. Meanwhile, Kail looked around the room. She noticed Neeshka's bow and arrow lying on the floor not far away from where the tiefling had been crouched. That was strange. Neeshka would never leave her weapon lying around, especially not in hostile territory.

Where had Neeshka been? If the King of Shadows truly _had_ taken her, why had he let her go? Or had Neeshka escaped? But how, in her current condition? She could see the still-drying blood on the tiefling's clothes. Neeshka seemed barely able to move, much less escape from Garius and his minions. Was this a trap? Was that not really Neeshka at all, but somebody else disguised as her? Maybe up close, she didn't look a thing like Neeshka, and that's why she wanted her to stay back.

"These statues are the original Ritual of Purification statues," said Ammon, gesturing at the tall blocks of carved stone around them. They were three times as big as any of the previous statues Kail had seen in Arvahn. "What we used to access the Ritual must have been merely activation stones. It is these which fuel the Ritual."

"How can we use this to our advantage?" she asked.

"I'm not sure if we can. But I have to wonder... the King of Shadows must know that these give us the power to unmake him. So why hasn't he ordered them destroyed before now?"

"Kalach-cha," said Zhjaeve, approaching quietly. "Know that Neeshka is feeling better, now that we've healed her." Kail looked over the githzerai's shoulder, to where Elanee was leading Neeshka away from the statue, her bow now firmly in hand.

"Are you sure that's Neeshka? She's acting... strange."

"She claims that Garius tortured her, but she will say no more on the subject. I believe Garius has cursed her in some way, to what effect I do not know. She refuses to allow you or anybody else near her, though."

"A curse? Can you remove it?" she asked worriedly. She was going to _kill_ Garius for whatever he'd done to her friend.

"Not until I know more about the nature of the curse. And I must then spend some time preparing myself. This is not something I normally deal with."

"Even if you knew what the curse did, it would make no difference," said a loud voice which echoed around the room. From the far side of the great round hall, from a door behind the statue of the elf-woman's head, came Garius, gliding across the floor in his dark, menacing robes, his white skull fixed into a permanent grin. But Kail no longer feared him. She knew him for what he was; a coward, who sacrificed others because he was too afraid to meet her head on. He was worse than a Mossfeld, but no scarier than any other wizard or sorcerer she might encounter.

"It seems dear Neeshka has found a way around the geas I put on her," Garius continued. "Tell me, little one, how did you figure out that staying away from your friend would prevent my spell from triggering? Bishop!" Bishop entered the room through the same door as Garius, and stopped just behind the wizard. Kail felt her throat tighten at the sight of him. If he'd helped Garius to kidnap Neeshka... she wouldn't try to stop Casavir from doing whatever it was the paladin wanted to do to him. "Bishop, what do you know about this?"

"You must be mistaking me for somebody who knows something about magic," he said simply with a shrug. "Or somebody who actually cares."

"You will pay for what happens here tonight, Bishop," Casavir warned. "And for every life lost at Crossroad Keep."

"I thought I told you to come alone, wildcat," he said, ignoring Casavir. His eyes, when they met hers, were not their usual vivid gold. Instead, they were hazel, and in comparison, quite plain.

"And deny my friends the pleasure of putting an end to your new master?" she replied.

"Ah, yes," said Garius, running his eyes over the rest of her group. "Your friends. The people who were foolish enough to follow you here. My master is prepared to offer them a second chance, just as he has for Bishop... and Neeshka."

"Neeshka?" she asked, glancing at the tiefling. The young woman was clasping her head in her arms, as if even hearing this pained her.

"Oh yes. What I found when I opened your friend up was power," Garius grinned. "The small drop of fiendish blood within her veins is potent. In fact, it was strong enough to allow me to perform some very _old_ dark magic indeed... once I had spilled enough of it on the bones of this place. Now Neeshka, too, serves my master. Come here, Neeshka."

Garius crooked his finger, and Neeshka began to move reluctantly forward, her head still grasped between her hands, her eyes screwed shut and her face painted with lines of pain. After five steps she started shaking, and after another three she sank to the floor with a scream of agony. Kail started to move towards her, but Elanee held up her hand to stall her, and went to Neeshka herself.

"Come, Neeshka, I don't have all day," said Garius impatiently.

"_No!_" The word tore from the tiefling's throat as a half-shout, a denial of the wizard's power over her. "I'll never hurt Kail. I'd rather die myself than harm the one person who's ever offered me their friendship and their trust. You should have killed me when you had the chance, because I'm not going to obey you any more!"

"You tell him, fiendling!" said Khelgar.

"No matter," said Garius. He sounded like he was trying to conceal anger. "You were nothing more than an amusing distraction. But where one leads, others will follow. Elanee." The elf, crouched over Neeshka as she healed the tiefling's wounds, looked up in surprise. "The King of Shadows knows how desperate you are to reforge your link with the land. He can help you become one with the land, to know it as you never have before. All he asks is that you fight with him, and do not stand in his way. His argument is with the enemies of the Illefarn empire... not with the land itself."

"I would rather go all my life without ever restoring my connection to the land, than become one with the tainted abomination your 'master' has created," said Elanee angrily. "He's the one who took this connection from me in the first place, and now he'll give it back as if he's doing me some sort of favour? I think not!"

"Then perhaps your lover will listen, where you will not." Garius turned towards the paladin. "Casavir. These are dangerous times, and times of great change. In the days to come, the enemies of Illefarn will be slain. You need not be one of them. You can live, you can continue to spend your time with the woman you have recently come to hold dear, and continue to do Tyr's work. You need not die in vain."

"It will not be in vain, I assure you," said Casavir. Kail recognised the cold anger in his voice. "I would die a thousand times over to put an end to you and your master. I commend my soul to Tyr, and my body to stopping you."

"Such foolish bravado. But not within your group are possessed of it. Sand. I know that you studied in the Hosttower of the Arcane, many years ago. Everything that you saw there... the spells, the artifacts... they pale in comparison to what can be found here, and to what my master can show you. True power can be yours, without limitation. You need not worry about the foibles of men."

"Well, as grateful as I am to be given the chance to become one of the _many_ Shadow Reavers we've already slain... I think I'll pass," said Sand.

"Then maybe Qara will show more ambition," said Garius, turning towards the girl. "Qara, my master has watched your progress over recent months, and he is impressed. Your strength, your power, your will... you easily surpass anybody within that tiny Neverwinter school, and even your own companions are candles to your bonfire. But imagine how much stronger you could be. If your power was increased threefold. Tenfold. A _hundredfold._ My master would not leash you, as others have. He would revel in your strength."

"Even if Sand hadn't turned down your offer," said Qara, "I would still accept." Kail felt her heart drop at the sorceress' words. "I'm fed up of people telling me what to do and trying to hold me back. I'm fed up of being treated like a child, being ignored and picked on. I want to see the academy burn. I want to see those weak idiots admit they were wrong about me."

"Qara, please don't do this," she said, trying to school her voice to sound pleading rather than commanding. She had no desire to fight Qara. She was just a child, after all.

"That's the first time you've ever said 'please' to me, but it's far too late," said Qara, her face hard and determined. "You and your uncle have done nothing but treat me like a servant, and I'm putting an end to it now." As she crossed the floor to stand behind Garius, her quiet footsteps were the only sound in the room. Kail wondered if everybody else was holding their breath, or whether it was just her.

"Grobnar," said Garius, sounding thoroughly satisfied with himself. The gnome jumped and tried to hide behind Mister Pointy. "It's no secret that you love to invent things and fix things and learn about things. You've done wonders with the golem I sent to dispose of the githyanki. But what if you had an army of golems to work with? And other things besides them! My master can show you wonders, both mechanical and magical, beyond your wildest dreams."

"Yes, you see," said Grobnar, nervously at first but gaining courage as he gained momentum, "who would I talk about such things with? Who would be left to listen to my songs? Your King of Shadows is only interested in destruction... what he leaves behind is soulless, with no love for the finer things in life, such as music and art and poetry."

"A pity you will sing no more songs after today. Now, Khelgar-"

"Don't even bother, wizard," said the dwarf. "I have the respect of me kin, the Hammer of Ironfist in me hands, and a cold ale waiting fer me back at the Keep. Ye've nothing I want, so save yer breath... if ye even have any. All I'm hearing is wind."

"Zhjaeve. Imagine a world in which you don't have to live in fear and conflict with the githyanki. Your people can be free, to travel as they please, without being harassed by their harsh cousins. My master can make that happen for you. He can help your people to destroy their enemies. He can command legions of constructs and shadows, and take the fight straight to the Astral Plane. All this and more, he can do for you."

"Know that the path of destruction is the githyanki way," said Zhjaeve calmly. "The githzerai have no interest in warfare, in destroying others through force of arms. If we are to conquer the githyanki at all, it will be with words and understanding, not with blades and shadows."

"Ammon," said Garius, turning at last to the warlock. "You know what will inevitably happen. Whether or not my master triumphs here today, your soul will eventually be claimed by the devils and demons with which you have made pacts. My master can help you break from these pacts. Your soul need not be tortured after you die. You can be free of your infernal obligations. And more; he can give Shandra back to you. She died, yes, but to one such as my master, death need not be permanent. You can be together again. You can be a part of her life, and she a part of yours.

Kail held her breath. She knew that Shandra was one of Ammon's weaknesses. He didn't show it, but he regretted his actions on the day she'd died. They'd talked at length about the young woman and her life... just not when anybody else was around to hear it. How did the King of Shadows know so much about all of her friends?

"I'm willing to accept the consequences of my actions," said Ammon. "I won't try to run from my pacts. And Garius... for mentioning Shandra to me, I am going to make sure you burn in hell before I am through with you."

"Hmm. Well then. It's rather disappointing that more of you haven't come to your senses, but no matter. My master is on the verge of breaking through to this world... but none of you will live long enough to witness it." He gestured towards the dark portal.

"Wait," she said, taking a step forward. She turned her gaze to Bishop. "First, I want to know why. Why are you doing this?"

"Oh yes," he said with a grim smile. "Your incessant desire to understand things. I bet you've been pondering this one ever since I left."

"Do tell her, Bishop," said Garius. "We have time, yet, and it should prove interesting."

"Alright," he said, taking a few steps forward. "I bet you think this is all about **you**, don't you? Because _everything_ has to be about you, right? Well, not this time. This time, it's about your uncle."

"Duncan?" she asked, confused. Duncan hadn't even been at Crossroad Keep during Garius' assault. What could Duncan possibly have to do with Bishop's actions?

"That's right," he said, taking a couple more steps towards her. Behind her, she heard Casavir shifting on the spot; probably readying his weapon. "Let me tell you a little story about me, and about your dear uncle Duncan. As you know, I once lived in the Mere, in a little village called Redfallow's Watch. But it was nothing like _your_ village. It was nothing like West Harbor. The people there didn't care for each other. They were greedy, selfish and corrupt. When I was young, Luskans came, and they took me away. They taught me how to kill, and torture, and as a final test, they ordered me to slaughter a village in Neverwinter's territory. I chose the village responsible for making me the fine, upstanding man I am today. Redfallow's Watch."

She listened with thoughts swirling around inside her head. Things were starting to fall into place, to make a little more sense. But Bishop _hated_ Luskans. Why did he carry out the orders if he hated them? Why did he enjoy the one thing - killing - that the people who he hated had taught him to do? And why hadn't Duncan told her any of this when he'd coerced the ranger into helping her?

"I had it all planned out," Bishop continued. Everything about him showed anger; his voice, the set of his face, his narrowed eyes, even the way he stood. "I put oil down around the village, so that when I was ready, I could set fire to it and it would all come circling in. I thought I could be free of my 'masters', the Luskan overseers who were accompanying me, so I made sure I gave them spots that were heavily doused with oil. It was dark, and the whole place reeked of it so much that they had no idea they were sitting right on top of the worst of it." In her head, she could see everything he described, only it wasn't Redfallow's Watch; in her mind, it was West Harbor, burning to char. It made her angry, and she realised she _wanted_ to be angry. It was easier to deal with Bishop when she was angry. And he seemed to be making it quite easy for her to _be_ angry. He'd subtly dropped in the name of her home village earlier so that she'd link it with the burning of Redfallow's Watch. So that she'd remember how her own friends had died, and how she felt about it.

"I tried to warn the villagers," he said, and if anything, the anger in his voice grew stronger. "But they wouldn't listen. They thought I was making it up. They thought they were safe from a few Luskans. So when night fell, and they were still in their houses, I had no choice. I started the fire, I watched it go circling in, I watched them burn, I heard their screams... the women and the children too. The fools... they died corralled like sheep because they were too stubborn to flee. Just like you, they thought they could stay and fight. And just like you, they were wrong. But I was too confident. Too distracted. One of the Luskans didn't succumb to the fire... and he managed to get a shot off just before I did. I took an arrow to my chest, and I fell. I had to lie there and listen to the rest of them die. I had to listen to children screaming for their parents... but it didn't matter. None of it mattered, because as I lay there, dying, I felt all the chains coming off me. Everything that tied me to the world, to my life, was disappearing, and I knew that I would be free." His hands curled into fists before relaxing again. "And then Duncan found me. He dragged me away, healed my injuries and saved my life. Along he came with his chains, to tie me back down to the world. And afterwards he said, in that stupid joking voice of his, that I owed him. But I knew that he was blackmailing me.

"And then you came along. You who, like me, were born and raised in the Mere. But you had a better chance than I did. You didn't let the darkness weigh you down. You got out on your own and you made something of yourself... though that doesn't seem to have done you any favours now, does it? And when the farm-girl went missing and Duncan forced me to help you get her back, I thought I'd finally be free of him, and the 'debt' I owed him. But afterwards, I knew I'd never truly be free as long as he was alive. He knew too much, and for all I knew, he'd told all of this to you as well. I had to know how much you knew, which is why I stuck with you. By the time I realised you didn't know anything, it was too late. I was in too deep, and Duncan just kept _expecting_ me to help you. And that's about it, really. As for 'why'... soon you'll be dead. And when you are, the King of Shadows will turn his attention to Neverwinter. Then Duncan will be dead too. And I'll finally be free."

Her anger had begun to dissolve as he described how the villagers had died. You didn't remember facts like that, you didn't remember the screams of the dying, unless they had deeply affected you. She knew, because she could remember the screams of the Greycloaks around her during the siege of Crossroad Keep, and she doubted she would ever forget them. For Bishop to have carried that around inside himself for however many years it had been, meant that he must have had more than a few nightmares about it. And by the time he had finished his confession, her anger had evaporated entirely. She had never heard anybody hate themselves so much before. She could hear it in his voice, because Lucas had trained her well. All the anger and the scorn he heaped on the villagers, on Duncan, on everybody around him, was done so that he could tell himself that the people who had died _deserved_ their fates. And because they had deserved it, he was absolved of guilt. Yet he still hated himself for it, and was probably even in denial about it. She remembered his words, when she'd told him he couldn't save her. _I can't, or you won't let me?_ Now, his anger when she'd told him he couldn't protect her from everything, made sense. She'd simply repeated a cycle he'd already been through once.

The worst part about all of this was that she understood exactly how he felt. The missing pieces of the puzzle that was Bishop had finally fallen into place to reveal a whole picture, and she understood what she was seeing. Rightfully, she ought to hate him, she ought to be outraged that so many people had died at his hands, that he'd betrayed her and was willing to let people suffer, rather than stand and fight. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't hate him, because he had tried to save her. Bishop, who cared for nothing but himself, had tried to protect her. But she'd been too wrapped up in herself, too convinced that she needed to be alone to be strong, to notice. Suddenly, words she had heard years ago were recalled to her.

_'One day you'll understand, Kail. One day you'll hear something call to you; a god, a place, a person, a cause; one day you'll hear the call, and nothing else will stand in the way. With every fibre of your being, you will know that it is right, even when everybody else tells you it is wrong.'_

_Damn you, Valear,_ she thought. _You were right. And I understand._

Her feet moved of their own volition. Her mind barely even registered the cries of alarm from her friends. She knew she was moving, because the distance between her and Bishop was growing shorter, but for all the world she could not have stopped herself, even if she wanted to. He watched her warily as she approached, his body tense, and she knew he was waiting for her to strike first, to see how she would act. When she was in range, she pushed herself up onto her tiptoes, tilted her head and kissed his lips softly.

She was in Zhjaeve's river again, clinging to the rocks as the water rushed by. But now, she did something she had never thought herself capable of. She let go of the rocks. She stopped fighting. She surrendered herself to the river and let it carry her with it. She felt strong arms wrap themselves around her, felt her feet leave the floor as she was lifted and pulled against his body. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and ceased to think of anything at all, giving in to the feeling of his lips on hers, revelling in the kiss she had dreamt of more than once but never experienced until now. And everything about it felt right. His lips on hers, his arms encircling her, his warm breath on her cheek, his body pressed against hers... it was more right than anything she had experienced before. And behind her, she heard voices.

_"What's she doing?" Grobnar._

_ "Getting a better aim at his back, I hope." A very un-paladin-like remark from Casavir._

_ "The lass is crazy." Khelgar._

_ "The time for pointless gestures is over." Ammon's voice, gruff as ever._

"That's **enough**, Bishop!" Garius. But Bishop ignored the wizard. If anything, his grip on her tightened, pinning her against him. "I said that's enough!"

Reality came crashing down around her as he pulled his lips from hers, and she took hold of the rocks in the river once more. Gasping for breath, she opened her eyes and looked into his. They were empty, now, betraying no emotion, but his hand still gripped her tightly, almost painfully. When she finally trusted herself to speak, she lowered her head to his ear so that nobody else would hear.

"Enjoy your new freedom," she whispered.

He set her down on the floor - by the grace of the gods, her legs supported her, instead of letting her collapse into the puddle of goo that she felt like - and she began to walk back to her friends. Half way there, she truly _saw_ them, and saw the expressions of suspicion and accusation painting their faces. Every face except one; Zhjaeve's gaze was as knowing as ever.

"Don't look at me like that," she said to the rest. "I've done everything you all wanted. I've explored monk-hood, foiled thieves, tried to save the Circle of the Mere, restored the golem, saved Old Owl Well from the orcs, retrieved the Tome of Iltkazar, and even now I'm risking my life to save everybody from the King of Shadows. So this one time, when I want to do something for myself, don't you dare judge me for it."

They didn't understand. They probably couldn't. But one day, they might. One day they too might hear the call; the same call Valear had felt when he'd left for Myth Drannor, the same call she felt now with Bishop. The call of something that was _right_, even when everybody around you told you it was wrong.

Outburst over, she continued walking to stand with her friends, then turned and put her hand on the hilt of the Sword of Gith, sparing a glare of hatred for Garius.

_Time for one last fight. Time for the last stand. Time to be the Ice Queen once more._

o - o - o - o - o

Bishop watched her walk back to the others. A lone little wildcat, surrounded by people who wanted her to die for them. A lone grey-eyed she-wolf who, even now, even at the end, held them together with a growl and a snarl. The world had come rushing at her, knocking her over in the dust. And then she had stood up, turned to face it, and the look she had given him as she kissed him said it all; _is that the best you can do?_

No, no! It wasn't supposed to work like that. That wasn't supposed to happen. He had betrayed her. She was supposed to hate him. She was supposed to want to kill him! That's why he'd told her about Redfallow. It should have made her angry with him.

_Did you think you could fool her? She saw right through you._

It should have worked. Why hadn't it worked? She knew, now. Knew about everything. About Redfallow's Watch, about Luskan, about what he had done.

_She doesn't care. Haven't you been paying attention? She doesn't give a damn what anybody thinks. She knows it all, and she still wants you._

No, she doesn't want me. She's just trying to confuse me. She's playing games, trying to fool me into siding with her, trying to sway my loyalty.

_What loyalty? Are you stupid? She walked away from her friends to kiss you, then blasted them when they dared to judge her._

It doesn't matter. None of it matters. You betrayed her, betrayed that stupid Keep, and that stupid city. If she saw you outside of here she'd haul you off to the gallows, and from there to the Tomb of Betrayers.

_Don't be a fool. She doesn't care about the law, about 'justice'. She never wanted that Keep, never wanted to be doing this. She doesn't give a damn what Nasher thinks. And now you've ruined it. Left her when she needed you most._

Ha! She doesn't need me. She has the others with her. She has a paladin on her side.

_What can they do for her? Wrap her up in swaddling cloth and keep her safe from harm? She needed you to keep her strong, to keep her on her toes. Those others, they don't know what to do with her. Half the time they treat her like a child, and the rest of the time like some sort of crazed animal._

Who's a fool now? She doesn't want me. She could have had me any time she wanted. She could have left it all behind. I offered more than once.

_You're still the fool. She doesn't run. She won't run from Garius, she won't run from the King of Shadows, and she certainly won't run from __**you**__._

I'm not listening anymore.

_Well you should. Because when she's dealt with Garius, and the King of Shadows, she's going to come looking for you. She's going to hunt you down and kill you, probably quite slowly._

Shut up!

_Ahh... what's this?_

I said shut up!

_You think she's going to... __**survive**__. You think she's going to live._

...Yes.

_Oh, you really __**did**__ make a bad choice, didn't you?_

And now I'm going to have to kill her.

_Yes. Yes you are._

Shit.

_Shit._

o - o - o - o - o

Garius raised his arms and a force shield sprang up from the floor. Kail jumped over it to the left of the nearest tall statue, Sand following her closely. She landed heavily on the floor and rolled into a standing position. From the corner of her eye she saw Khelgar and Grobnar do the same on the right. Everybody else was trapped in the centre, between the two fields of energy, and she could only watch with horror as the undead wizard began summoning fiends into that area.

A fireball came hurtling towards her and she ducked just in time to avoid it. It hit the wall behind her, fizzling into nothing. Qara stood beside Garius, her eyes glowing red, her body wreathed in a fiery nimbus. Kail quickly drew the Sword of Gith, though she knew it wouldn't be any use against Qara. Sand was already preparing a spell of his own to return, and it would have to be Sand who bested Qara because everybody else was separated from them by the energy shields. Khelgar and Grobnar were dealing with a blade golem which had appeared seemingly from nowhere, and everybody else was preoccupied by the devils and demons summoned by Garius, who even now was casting life-draining spells at her friends.

She let out a cry of surprise as rough hands pulled her from behind, dragging her away from Sand. He turned in surprise, but she shook her head.

"Stop Qara!" she shouted at him, as the Sword slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor. "You're the only one who can!" He narrowed his eyes, then nodded and turned his attention back to the sorceress. Her insides churned as the spells were thrown. She hadn't seen him coming, but she should have expected it. This was personal, now.

She felt a sharp pain in her neck, and winced as she felt a drop of something roll down her skin. _Blood._ Bishop's left arm held her own arms to her body, and in his right hand he held one of her daggers to her neck. The dagger he had given to her in the Temple of Tyr, just before her duel with Lorne. The poetic irony was not lost on her.

"What are you waiting for? That dagger won't cut my throat on its own, you know," she said, trying to keep the fear from her voice. The point of the knife was sticking into her skin, but, thankfully, not near a major vein.

"Oh, I'm not killing you yet, wildcat. I want you to watch this. I want you to watch your friends fight to stave off death. And I want to watch it with you." She laughed. What else could she do?

"And after that? Are you saving me for yourself, or will you give me to your new master?" His grip loosened slightly and she managed to move her left arm. _Grab the other dagger. Finish it._ He seemed not to notice her slight movement, and she followed his gaze to her companions. Sand and Qara were still duelling, hurling spells and counterspells, and the air between them sizzled with raw magic. On the other side of the room Khelgar was dancing around the golem as Grobnar cast protections on him. Caught between the shields, Ammon, Casavir, Elanee, Neeshka and Zhjaeve, along with Mister Pointy, desperately battled the demons, devils and shades that Garius was still summoning. Tears stung her eyes as her arm moved slowly to her side. These were her friends, and they were taking cuts, taking losses, while she stood by and watched.

_It is when the odds are against you; when you're tired, and cold, and alone, when it is easier to give in and give up than to keep on walking; it is then that you discover what kind of person you truly are._

Her arm moved another inch and she slowly stretched her fingers, felt them brush against what she sought. The tears spilled down her cheeks as she entwined her fingers around his. But she didn't try to push his arm away. She let him hold her against him, pinning her in place, and she relished the feeling of his warm body against hers. His hand in hers felt like the only real thing in the world.

_Because sometimes, when the river is trying to pull you with it, when the wind is screaming around you, when the current threatens to pull you under, all you can do is hold on for dear life._

So she held on to him, and he held on to her, and she knew what kind of a person she truly was.

_I am weak._

Her heart surged when one of Sand's spells broke through Qara's defences. Khelgar's hammer felled one of the blade golems, and it lay inert in a crumpled heap. The dread wraiths fell to Casavir's blows, the demons and devils were unmade by Ammon's incantations, the group's wounds were cleansed and healed by Elanee and Zhjaeve as Neeshka sniped at Garius from the shadows with her bow.

"Bishop?"

"Yeah, wildcat?"

"When my life ends, Shaundakul will take my dying breath and carry it high upon the wind, and it will be a beautiful song which those close to me will remember. But no matter where you go, no matter how far you run, no matter where you try to hide, that breath will find you, and haunt you to the rest of your days, and you will never know a moment's peace."

He was silent for a moment, considering her words. Another of Sand's spells breached Qara's defences. The second blade golem was losing the fight. The demons, devils and shades were far fewer in number. The protective barriers began to shimmer, their energy fading.

"Kail?"

"Yeah, ranger?"

"When all of this is over, when you have sent that damned Reaver to the hells, when you have destroyed the King of Shadows and all of his lifeless minions, when you have run from your responsibilities - that crumbling Keep of yours, your noble titles, even your friends... I'm coming for my knife. That I promise you."

She felt the blade removed from her neck, felt it shoved roughly into the sheath at her hip, felt his fingers torn from hers, and then he was gone, like a shadow in the mist. The barriers separating her from her companions faded completely as Garius depleted his own power to fuel his spells.

Her legs felt weak but she did not let herself rest. Nor did she raise her hand to her neck; she wasn't bleeding enough to die, and that was all she needed to know for now. She quickly took two of her knives from her bracers and threw them at Qara. Strange, that she felt no guilt when they pierced the sorceress' stomach, and the girl sank slowly to the ground.

_I am weak_, she thought. _But I won._

"No, this cannot be!" said Garius, his voice a scream of rage. She knew why he was angry. All of his minions were gone. There was nobody else he could throw between him and her. Bishop had abandoned him, Qara was dying on the floor, the last blade golem was falling to the Hammer of Ironfist, and the fiends he had summoned were being slowly torn apart by blade and spell.

"Garius!" she shouted above the din of battle. He turned, briefly, to face her. "Give my regards to Jergal, when you see him."

She didn't need to act. Sand had already turned his spells towards the wizard, and Ammon's infernal incantations joined them as soon as the last fiend fell. Zhjaeve's divine magic was next, followed by the power of nature, channelled by Elanee. In the end, Garius was simply overwhelmed, which, she mused, was probably an accurate description for his entire life. He'd never been able to handle the power he'd been given. That was why he had died.

Twice.

There was no explosion of light to swallow him. No ghastly apparition rose from his body to curse them as what remained of his soul was carried off to the Fugue Plane. He simply crumbled inelegantly, the bones of his corpse finally still. For a few moments, silence reigned as they all caught their breath and surveyed their own handiwork. Then, the dark portal, all but forgotten in the heat of battle, began to spin, and shadows poured forth from its tarnished surface.


	107. In The Pale Moonlight

_107. In The Pale Moonlight_

As the dark portal began to spin, and issue forth shadows from its depths, everyone began to back away. Elanee was helping Neeshka, who still seemed a little worse for wear after her ordeal at Garius' hands, and Grobnar was leading the construct by the hand, desperately trying to convey some sense of urgency to it. The only one who didn't back away was Ammon; he stood beside Kail as they waited for the King of Shadows to arrive.

"The Guardian will strike at you and I first and most often," said Ammon. "It has no weaknesses. It does not favour one side over the other. It can jump from shadow to shadow, and will not hesitate to strike at you from behind, given the chance. Once the beast's body has been broken by the rest of us, you must use the Sword of Gith to destroy the monster inside." She nodded. Ammon had already been over this with her many times before. She knew he wasn't telling her again because he thought she was dim, but because he felt his words were important enough to reiterate.

The light in the room began to dim as the shadows from the portal curled themselves sinuously around the tall blue crystals. The room was plunged into something nearing darkness. Not total darkness - she could still see well enough to move and fight by - but darkness in which shadows were more prevalent than light. The King of Shadows, it seemed, was trying to tip the balance in his favour. Instead of worrying her, the Guardian's actions heartened her. Had the thing been assured of its victory, it would not have plunged the room into darkness.

Behind the portal's murky surface, something even darker than shadow approached. Kail wanted to take a step back, to run and hide, to make sure the thing couldn't see her and focus its will on her, but she forced herself to stand still. Had Ammon not been there, she probably would have ran, but his presence gave her strength, and as she realised something, a chill swept over her body. They'd been here before, she and Ammon and the King of Shadows. Only last time, she'd been nothing more than a babe, cradled in her mother's arms, and Ammon and the Guardian had fought in burning West Harbor. They'd all come full circle, and now here they were again; the same fight, just twenty-odd years later.

The form in the portal reached the surface and stepped through. It was a golem, and yet it was not. It moved like a man or a beast, not like a rigid construction of metal like Mister Pointy. Its arms, legs and torso were darkness, and a grim mask of metal or bone covered its face, sweeping back over its head as two long, curved horns. Its eyes were nothing more than two pinpoints of white light behind the mask. Its torso was wrapped with what appeared to be crude strips of clothing, but as it approached she saw words and symbols adorning its scant apparel. A long tattered cape flowed down its back, but it wasn't a cape that was affected by the movement of air. Instead, whenever a swirling shadow touched it, it rippled as if blown by a gentle breeze. Taller than Mister Pointy it was, and more menacing despite the fact that its clawed hands were devoid of weapons. When it saw her, it stopped, only ten of its paces away from her.

"It is you," it said, and she felt herself taken aback. Nobody had mentioned anything about it talking, to her. But perhaps she shouldn't have been so surprised; it _did_ have to converse in some way with Garius, after all. "I know why you have come. You would walk in balance, and yet you would disrupt the equilibrium I would bring." Its voice was deep and hollow, with an echoing quality to it, as if it was speaking through a vast cave. Then, she realised it was expecting an answer from her.

"You seek to destroy everything in your path," she replied. "That is _not_ equilibrium."

"I was created to be the guardian of an empire. I do what I can to protect and preserve it."

"The Illefarn empire is long gone. All that is left are ruins, and even they are falling victim to time. You have destroyed the very thing you sought to protect."

"Even such denouncements are a threat. If you believe Illefarn lost, you must be cleansed with the rest."

Into the Guardian's hands sprung two long, curved blades of shadow, and as soon as it rushed forward, Ammon pushed her to one side, then sprang to the other side himself.

"We must break through its shell!" Ammon called aloud. The Guardian turned its attention to him.

"I remember fighting you before now, Ammon Jerro," it said. "This time, you have no devils and demons to hide behind. No silver sword to protect you."

"And _you_ have no army of undead to hide behind!" Ammon snarled. He curled his arm and threw a ball of infernal energy at the Guardian. It raised one of its shadowy blades to deflect the magic, then stepped forward towards him.

Khelgar threw himself into the fray. He pulled back the Hammer, preparing to smash it into the body of the Guardian, but instead it ended up rushing through thin air; the Guardian had disappeared into shadow, materialising on the other side of the room. Khelgar set off again towards it, with Casavir and Mister Pointy right behind him. Faster than they, a swarm of magical bolts of energy zoomed overhead, connecting with the body of the Guardian. But just as the warriors reached it, the Guardian disappeared again into shadows, materialising out of their range.

"We need to find some way to stop it from travelling through the shadows!" Kail called to those closest to her.

"I think I know of a way!" said Elanee. The elf closed her eyes, and Kail saw her lips move. When she flung out her hand towards the Guardian, a beam of yellow sunlight surrounded the beast, cutting it off from the shadows around it. Khelgar was quick to take advantage; he hit the Guardian's leg with the Hammer of Ironfist, and it made a satisfying resounding noise. Blinded by the light, the huge construct lashed out wildly with its blades of shadow. Casavir ducked to avoid one, but Mister Pointy had no such sense of survival, and was knocked halfway across the room by the blow. Ammon sent another bolt of eldritch energy towards the Guardian, and it hit the beast square in the chest.

"Know that I am about to cast a powerful spell, and it would be best if nobody was near the King of Shadows," said Zhjaeve.

"Khelgar, Casavir!" Kail shouted. "Get out of the way!"

Both of the warriors jumped aside as the air around the Guardian began to thicken. For a brief moment, all Kail could see was the Guardian, dazed by the light around it. Then the air around it seemed to fall in on itself, and the Guardian's body started to twist and deform. When the spell ended, the damage was obvious; one of its arms had been too badly damaged to use, and its body looked dented.

"It's working!" said Ammon. "We must strike hard, and fast!"

But the Guardian, too, seemed to know that the battle was not going in its favour. The spell of light holding it in place ended, and when Khelgar and Casavir ran towards it with their weapons ready, it lashed out at them with its good arm. Khelgar threw himself to the floor at the last moment, but Casavir was too tall. He was hit by a blade of shadow and sent spinning through the air, landing in a heap on the cold stone floor.

Kail waited only long enough to see Elanee rush to the paladin's side. As the elf tried desperately to heal him, Kail took his place, stepping towards the Guardian with the Sword of Gith in her right hand. The Sword glimmered and shone more brightly than it ever had before. Bishop had been right; it was in the darkness that the light shone brightest.

The Guardian noticed her approach; it kicked Khelgar across the floor and stepped towards her. The anger that she thought she would feel towards the King of Shadows was gone. All that was before her now was her duty, and duty didn't care about things like anger and vengeance. She knew that she was physically weaker than the Guardian, so when it brought its shadow-blade down towards her, she didn't try to block it; she called on Lucas' training, and dodged it. He'd always said that he wanted to make her into a survivor, not a fighter, and he'd also said that the best way to avoid being hurt was to not be where your opponent expected you to be.

The Guardian's shadow-blade was still being carried by its own momentum when she threw herself forwards, rolling over her shoulder through the Guardian's legs. As she stood, she brought the Sword around in an arc to slice through one tall, dark leg. It was like a hot knife slicing through butter; the Sword gave off silver sparks of light where it cut through the Guardian's body. The King of Shadows gave no indication that it felt any pain. It simply turned and struck at her again, and she flattened herself to the floor as the blade whistled through the air above her head. At that same moment, as it was distracted, bolts of magical fire exploded over its body. She had the presence of mind to roll away, and a few seconds later the dark blade hit the ground where she had just been lying. From the corner of her eye she saw Zhjaeve tending to Khelgar, and Elanee still bent over Casavir, shaking the paladin by his armoured shoulders. All she had to do was keep the Guardian busy a little longer. Long enough for the others to rejoin the battle.

"Hey, Guardian!" she said, pushing herself to her feet. "How does it feel to know you killed your own people?" She didn't know whether the Guardian could be goaded, but she had to keep its attention occupied. And it seemed to work. It turned back towards her and advanced on her. She walked backwards, to draw it away from her friends. Then, she tripped over something lying on the floor, and fell backwards, banging her head on the hard stone. When she opened her eyes, she found herself looking into Qara's pale, bloody face. The sorceress' mouth was open, her eyes staring lifelessly through her. Kail felt her insides squirm and fought down nausea.

Before she knew what was happening, the King of Shadows was above her, raising its dark shadow blade. She reacted instinctively, raising her hand, sending a plume of intense dragon fire straight towards the Guardian. Even as the fire burnt it, it backed away, and she pushed herself up feeling giddy. The Guardian truly _did_ fear her! With the Sword in her hand, she advanced again, but Khelgar was on his feet, and he was faster than her. The Guardian was backing towards him, and as it reached him, he leapt up and brought the Hammer down upon its back. His blow carried not only his own strength, but also the strength of the artifacts of his clan, and the force of his hit caused the Guardian to fall forwards onto its hands and knees. Its body seemed to fracture, and dark shadows rolled out of it.

"The Guardian's body has been broken!" said Ammon excitedly. "Get ready to strike at the King of Shadows in his true form!"

But the shadows kept pouring out of the golem's body, and she and Khelgar were forced to back away or be surrounded by them. Everybody else was doing likewise as the shadows began to cover the whole floor at head-height. Then, as they began to clear, they revealed the Guardian. _Two_ of the Guardian! They were human-sized, now, and as Kail watched, the shadows rolled around them, clearing to reveal two more. The Guardian was doubling itself, she realised in horror. In a few moments there would be hundreds of the things. But they seemed more concerned with fighting. They surged forward, a group towards her and Khelgar, a group towards the rest of her friends.

She and Khelgar were cut off from the others, forced to fight back to back. The Sword of Gith and the Hammer of Ironfist were twin streaks of bright lightning flashing in the darkness of the shadows. As she struck and parried and blocked again and again, she felt her body began to sweat, her muscles begin to ache with exertion. Only one thought remained within her. _Keep fighting_. She kept going even when her muscles began to burn with pain and her lungs began to ache with every deep gasp of breath she drew. Every time the Sword struck home, the pile of bodies around her grew, but the smaller Guardians just kept coming and coming. The room was filled with them, now; there seemed to be no end to their number.

"Use your Ritual power!" Ammon called desperately. She risked a look around her and instantly knew what he meant. The smaller Guardians were all linked together now by a web of light, like flies caught in a massive spider-web. Ammon has used his Ritual power to bind them all together. As another Guardian fell to the Sword, she reached within herself to activate the ancient Illefarn power. Bright light encompassed the Guardian closest to her, and spread like wildfire from shadowy form to shadowy form. It was so bright that she had to close her eyes, to shield her vision against the brilliant light, and when it finally died away, only handful of the smaller Guardians were left.

She rushed forward to strike at one, and Khelgar took another. Sand and Zhjaeve sent spells to take down two more, and Mister Pointy, now back on his feet, was engaging the last. Kail thrust the Sword deep into the body of her opponent, and pulled the blade out as it toppled forward. She kept her defensive stance as she moved towards her friends, prepared to strike again should any more Guardians be waiting for her.

When she reached her friends, she found Casavir sitting with his back against a statue as Elanee tended to him. He wore an expression of pain on his face; he must have been hurt badly, if Elanee hadn't been able to heal him completely. Not far away, both Neeshka and Grobnar had their respective bow and crossbow raised, ready to let their arrows and bolts fly at the first enemy to come within range.

"Kalach-cha," said Zhjaeve. "The King of Shadows is forming."

Kail followed the githzerai's gaze, and saw dark shadows coalescing from the dozens of smaller Guardian bodies. They swirled around and around in the centre of the room, growing taller and taller, until they were higher even than the surrounding statues. Kail reached down inside herself again, and activated another Illefarn power. She felt most of her aches and pains wash away, and her muscles stopped complaining, the fire in her lungs dying down. By the time the Ritual power had touched her companions, the King of Shadows was fully formed. It was the nightwalker, larger this time, with eyes burning bright white.

"Only the Sword of Gith can destroy it permanently," said Ammon. "If any other weapon strikes the killing blow, the King of Shadows will simply reform on the Shadow Plane."

She nodded, and stepped forward. In a way, she felt sorry for the King of Shadows. All he'd wanted was to protect his home. But his protection was destroying _her_ home. And now, she would have to end his non-life, finally putting him to rest.

The King of Shadows move with the speed of a striking snake. One long, shadowy arm swept down upon her and her friends, throwing them all through the air and along the ground. Kail landed badly on her left side, feeling jolts of pain shooting down her arm and leg. Other groans of agony told her that her friends were suffering too, and she felt angry with herself. How could she have been stupid enough to feel sympathy for the King of Shadows? It was nothing but a mindless creature of destruction. She should have struck first, instead of waiting for it to act. It was a mistake she wouldn't make again.

She managed to stand by pushing her weight against the wall she'd come to rest against, and hobbled towards the King of Shadows which had begun to advance towards her friends. The anger was back with a vengeance, this time, but it had taken anger at herself to spark it. In her mind, she saw every victim of the King of Shadows, starting with her mother. It was because of this _thing_ that her mother had died. It was because of this _thing_ that Shayla had died with her, and Daeghun had lost the woman he loved. This _thing_ was responsible for deaths of hundreds, if not thousands, of people, starting with the Illefarn millennia ago. Tonight, she would see an end to the destruction. Nobody else would die at the hands of the King of Shadows.

_I need you to be the weapon you were made to be, one last time,_ she thought to the Sword. _This is it, for real this time._

Obligingly, the Sword changed in her hands. It was still a sword, but it was also a shaft of painfully bright, living, liquid fire, and its surface rippled in unison with her thoughts. Her own life-force flowed into the weapon, and from the weapon back into her, and she couldn't help but feel changed by it. The Sword was now doing for her what it had done for Gith in the past; it was becoming one with her, an extension of herself, body and mind. And she knew what she had to do. She had to trust the Sword. It was ancient, had fought in countless wars, and had survived the test of time. Ammon Jerro had failed with it because he had tried to wield it as a simple weapon. But she was the heart of the Sword, and unless she allowed it to become her heart too, it would shatter again.

For the second time that day, she did the impossible. She stopped fighting. She let go of the rocks to which she had always clung so desperately, and allowed the river to carry her. Only now, it was a river of silver light, instead of a river of cold water. She felt the light rushing through her veins, and knew that it was the light of the Sword. She felt the weapon look inside her soul, at what lay there, and felt it reach out to touch something she kept hidden. It terrified her, but she didn't fight. She let the Sword work as it must, because now, only the Sword could defeat the King of Shadows.

There was a struggle, an internal war taking place in her mind and her soul. The Sword fought for dominance of her body against other things, other factions of herself that rarely saw the light of day. The external world was not important now, so she closed her eyes. The war seemed to endure for an eternity; a fight that had started at the beginning of time, and would only end when she died. Her conscious mind floated above it all, watching, refraining from interfering. She couldn't interrupt the battle, not even to help. She had to let the Sword do it on its own.

On some distant level she was aware of voices shouting at her to move, that the King of Shadows was moving towards her, that he was going to strike her down where she stood. She ignored them. They were a distraction. But they also distracted the factions within her, and at that moment, the Sword struck. It slipped past hidden defences and took control of everything. Then it opened her eyes, and watched the King of Shadows striking down at her with a blade of black shadow.

She wasn't afraid anymore. She couldn't be afraid, because although she was herself, she was also the Sword, and the Sword did not know fear. All the Sword knew was how to fight and how to live, and it had had far more experience of both than she. It knew, for example, that raising itself up to block the King of Shadow's blow would have been wasted movement. Instead, she felt it do something with her body that she had done before without knowing how. The moment slowed. The King of Shadows moved as if travelling through air as thick as earth. The cries of her friends seemed to change in pitch as the sound-waves slowed too. And at the last moment, the Sword stepped aside, raised itself to her waist-height and struck across the King of Shadow's leg.

When time caught up with her, she was already behind the King of Shadows, striking again. It turned, bringing its dark blade across with it, but the Sword was faster. It moved her again, slowing the moment to afford her greater speed than her opponent. But the action wasn't without consequences. Slowing time around her needed energy, and it put a great strain on her body. Her heart had to work twice as hard, and before long it began to feel as if it was burning in her chest. It was a race, now, to see what would happen first; would the King of Shadows fall to the Sword, or would her body succumb to the strain it was under?

It seemed to sense when the end was near for both of them. The King of Shadows wasn't bleeding, because it had no body capable of producing blood. But its movements were slow and sluggish, and each time it struck it seemed a little more apprehensive about striking again. Her own body, meanwhile, was close to collapse. No matter how fast she gasped for breath, no matter how hard her heart worked to pump oxygen around her body, it just wasn't enough. If she had to fight for even a few minutes more, she would be dead. It was something she had come to accept, but she had to make sure she destroyed the King of Shadows first.

She began to grow dizzy, and even the Sword's power failed to compensate for her weakness. She had to end it now, and quickly. The next time, when the King of Shadows struck, she moved slowly, only just deflecting the blow in time. She let her shoulders slump, let her grip on the weapon go a little more slack, but she didn't have to feign the rasping breaths she drew desperately in through her mouth.

Her subterfuge worked. The King of Shadows thought her too weak to fight back anymore. It poised itself, ready to strike, and as it did, it left its body wide open. The Sword slowed the moment one last time, and she moved through it, along the floor, then jumped forward and struck with the Sword, thrusting it with all of her strength into the creature's chest. For a brief instant, time seemed to freeze. The thought she saw the face of a man in the blinding whiteness of the Sword's attack; a man with long, dark hair, and a smile on his face. Then, her world exploded. She was flying helplessly through the air, her cloak flapping wildly behind her. On the ground, she saw her friends knocked to their feet by the force of the explosion. Her flight stopped when she landed against a statue, and slid down its length to land in a crumpled heap at the floor before its feet.

She was suddenly aware of her heart beating rapidly; _too_ rapidly. She saw the Sword lying on the ground a dozen feet away from her. Its light was dim, no longer a shining bolt of white fire, but a normal Sword once more. She didn't try to stand. She knew she didn't have it in her to move anymore. Her body felt as it had when the vampires had drained her life away. Instead of trying, she merely lay there, feeling her body shaking.

When Zhjaeve crossed the floor towards her, she realised it wasn't her body shaking, but the floor itself. The githzerai knelt down beside her and placed her cool hands on Kail's face. She felt energy rushing through her body, slowing her heart, mending the damage done by the Sword, but she was still too tired to move, even after the healing.

"You did it, Kalach-cha," said Zhjaeve quietly. "I do not know how, but you did it. The King of Shadows as been destroyed."

"The others?" she asked, too tired to lift her head to check for herself.

"Dazed by the King of Shadow's final blow, and some are injured, but all are alive."

"The floor's shaking," she said as the tremors grew in strength.

"Yes. Know that this place has been held together by the magic of the Illefarn empire... the same magic which created the Guardian over a thousand years ago. Now that the Guardian has been destroyed, the magic is unravelling. This place won't hold together much longer. We must leave quickly."

"I'm too tired," she said, wishing she could close her eyes and go to sleep. "Go on without me."

"You cannot give up now, Kalach-cha. You have won, and you are alive. There will be time for resting later. Now, either you can stand and walk out of here on your own, or I can carry you. Which would you prefer?"

She laughed, and began the long, slow process of standing. In the end, she needed Zhjaeve's help, and by the time she was on her feet, and Zhjaeve had retrieved the Sword of Gith for her, the floor wasn't the only thing shaking. The statues were rocking to and fro, and the walls seemed to be vibrating. Dust fell from the ceiling, coating her hair and her clothes. Slowly, she made her way towards her companions, holding onto Zhjaeve's arm for support.

"Is everybody okay?" she asked.

"Of course," said Sand. "I never doubted you for a moment, by the way."

"Kail, I can't wake Mister Pointy up!" said Grobnar. The construct had collapsed, and he was shaking its armoured shoulder.

Before she could reply, there was a loud, earth-shattering bang, and the floor lurched beneath them, sending everybody toppling to the ground. As they picked themselves up again, the shaking grew more violent, and bits of masonry began to fall with the dust. Kail coughed as fine stone powder worked its way into her lungs, and she wasn't the only one.

"We have to get out of here before we are crushed to death or suffocated!" said Ammon, with his sleeve covering his mouth and nose. Everybody quickly followed suit.

"Can anybody see the doorway?" asked Casavir, squinting to keep the worst of the dust from his eyes.

"Over there!" said Khelgar, and began hurrying across the shaking floor. Everybody followed him, guided by the sounds of his clinking armour. Then, the ground bucked again, and the walls began to groan as stones were forced out of place.

"The ceiling is coming down!" Elanee cried. A few seconds later, heavy slabs of dark grey stone began to fall from above; one narrowly missed crushing Grobnar.

"We'll never make it out of here!" said Neeshka desperately. Kail could have laughed. She'd survived the King of Shadows, only to be killed by a collapsing empire.

"The portal," said Zhjaeve, pointing towards the dark disc connecting the Illefarn ruins to the Plane of Shadow. "It is our only chance!" The stones of the building began screaming as the shaking became more violent.

"Everybody run for it!" said Ammon. He hobbled across the lurching floor, towards the portal suspended a foot above the ground.

"No, I can't just leave Mister Pointy!" said Grobnar, trying to pull the golem along with him. Kail wrenched her arm out of Zhjaeve's grip and, ignoring the way her body complained at her, ran to Grobnar and tore his hands from the inert construct.

"Grobnar, we have to leave him," she said, as gently but as firmly as she could. From above, she heard noise, and saw a slab of the ceiling fall towards her. She grabbed Grobnar by the shoulders and sprang forward with him in her arms. The slab hit the ground and the construct both, and the force of it sent Kail sprawling to the floor.

"Come on, lass, time to go!" said Khelgar.

He grabbed her arm in one hand and Grobnar's arm in the other and dragged them both along with him towards the portal. Zhjaeve was waiting beside it, and everybody else had gone through. Kail took one last look around the ruined chamber, and the bodies lying on the floor. She had done what she had set out to do. Neverwinter was safe, and so was the rest of the Sword Coast. The King of Shadows would never hurt anybody ever again. Now, it was time for her to be free. She turned, and stepped into darkness.


	108. Down the Road

_108. Down the Road_

The quiet sounds of village life filtered through to Daeghun's sensitive ears, and he let them soothe him as his hands worked automatically at chopping vegetables on the board. New Haven, only a few miles down the soggy road from the ruins of West Harbor, had sprung up almost overnight. The faces were different, yes, but the pace was familiar, comforting. That was always the case with humans. Their lives repeated through the generations. Sons became their fathers and daughters became their mothers in a never-ending cycle of stubborn farmers and militiamen.

A shriek of laughter caught his attention, and two youngsters ran past the window, parrying blows with their wooden swords. The boy, with his short dark hair and laughing brown eyes, stood head and shoulders taller than the blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl, but they were evenly matched as far as skill was concerned; they had a good teacher. He turned his attention back to the vegetables and, for a while, managed to stop thinking.

"Daeghun! Lucas is here!" said the girl. She was standing at the back door, her wind-swept hair blowing across her excited blue eyes. And, sure enough, he heard the sound of approaching hoofbeats. Fighting down the hope that surged in his chest, he calmly placed the knife down and followed the girl out the door. "Lucas, did you bring us anything from your travels?" she asked, bouncing upto the man as he dismounted from his horse.

"Patience, Dory," laughed the old rogue, patting his saddlebags. "Why don't you and Wolf put my horse in the barn while Daeghun and I talk?"

"And then will you tell us about your adventures?" asked Wolf. His eyes, too, were shining with excitement. They boy had wanderlust, and Daeghun knew that it was only a matter of time before both children would want to leave. But, for now, they could spend their days just _being_ children, living the childhood they never had on the harsh streets of Neverwinter. In a way, they were already grown up.

"The children are growing fast," Lucas remarked as Daeghun led him into the house.

"They always do," he replied. His old friend studied him as he poured tea for both of them.

"How long are you going to keep doing this for?"

"For as long as it takes," he replied.

"Nobody could have done more for Kail than you did," said Lucas. "You don't have to keep trying to make up for failings that don't exist." Daeghun sighed. Lucas knew him too well.

"There has been no sign of her? No word at all?"

"None." Lucas' voice was tinged with a grim note of finality.

"She is not coming back," said Daeghun, and it pained him more than he would have thought to hear himself say it aloud.

"It's been almost a year. If she was alive, she would have found her way back home by now," Lucas agreed. "But tell me something... the children. Why did you bring them here, of all places? And why _those_ two?"

"They did not want to stay in the Keep. Not without the Knight-Captain there. I thought they deserved the chance to experience a little peace and stability, so I brought them to New Haven, to raise them properly."

Lucas grunted something inaudible as he sipped his tea. "I think these two are the last I'm going to train," he said thoughtfully. "I'm getting too old for tousling with youngsters." Daeghun nodded. Lucas' hair was brilliant white, his knuckles gnarled with the onset of arthritis. "I'm thinking of heading to the Anauroch. Plenty of adventures out there for an old bard." Daeghun merely nodded again. First Kail, now Lucas, eventually Wolf and Dory. It was always the way, with humans. They were but brief candles to the fire of an elf's long years.

He walked to the mantlepiece and picked up a letter that was addressed to him in Kail's handwriting. He hadn't opened it. He had been afraid of what it would say. He had hoped that she would come back and take it from him. He opened it, now, and read the short poem inside.

_"When the last words have been spoken,_

_ And when the last dance is through,_

_ When the final curtain has fallen,_

_ All you have left is you."_

o - o - o - o - o

The wolf loped to the top of the hill at a steady trot. Some way behind him, the part of him that walked upright on two legs followed. No need to rush. He could be patient. He had the scent now, and he wasn't going to lose it. He never lost the scent of his quarry once he had it.

It had been a long time since he had smelled that scent. The smell of a hurricane tearing across the land, causing everything in its path to be swept aside, leaving a trail of confusion in its wake. The smell of the fight, the hunt, the taste of the kill, the sheer, overwhelming, blissful joy that came with knowing that you are alive. He could be patient. He had a promise to fulfill.

And far away in the distance, somewhere over the horizon, a lone grey-eyed she-wolf howled her song at the moon.

o - o - o - o - o

* * *

o - o - o - o - o

_The mandatory long and rambling Author's Note._

Thank you for reading Kail's Story. Some of you have even read it more than once. To you people, I salute your dedication (and also your wealth of free time, of which I'm insanely jealous). I can't remember how long it's taken me to get here. I'd like to say it's been two years, but in reality, it's probably more than three.

What you're now wondering (if you haven't read Faerûnian Times or discussed the subject with me via private message) is whether or not there's going to be a sequel. The answer; yes, there is. I've already worked on some of it. However, before I start publishing the sequel, I'm going to finish the prequel (Life is a Circle). Why? Possibly because I'm cruel and unusual. More likely because there is a question in Kail's Story I haven't yet answered. You might not know the question, in which case the answer will come as a surprise to you. But the question is best answered by somebody other than Kail, and for that, I need to go back in time. Hopefully, by the time you've read the prequel, you'll think "Oh, so _that's_ what all that was about!", and you may even look at Kail's Story with new eyes. Armed with the answer, I can safely let you in on the sequel. This isn't blackmail. You don't have to read the prequel if you don't want to. You can go straight to the sequel. When will the prequel be finished by? Definitely by the end of June. You have my word.

If you're wondering if Kail has a 'theme' song; yes, she does. It's 'Warrior Soul' by Kiuas. I recommend you go to Youtube and listen to it at least once. You'll either become a Kiuas fan and thank me, or decide it isn't your cup of tea.

If you're stuck for something to do in the mean time, you could always read some of the Kail-related stories on my FF page. 'Companions' is about the back-stories of the NPCs, though at present, I've only written Bishop's back-story, and it's still one chapter shy of being finished. 'Faerûnian Times' is a brief series of interviews with the cast of NWN2. Alternatively, you could browse my list of favourite stories. I can highly recommend each one; the stories are well-written, by excellent authors.

Now for the thank-yous. The list is long, so please bear with me.

First of all, thanks to Morbo. Long before I'd ever uploaded my first chapter of Kail's story to this site, you put up with me sending you individual chapters and snippets of info at all sorts of crazy hours. You also put up with my numerous "I was just in the shower and thought of this!" comments, and made the LOL acronym in all the right places. Sorry I haven't been on ICQ for over a year... the stories started taking over my life.

Thank you also to WildGrape. Thanks for not sugar-coating your criticisms, and for the many in-depth conversations on everything from morality to Batman. I'm sorry Qara never got the ending you thought she deserved, but I hope you'll find happiness in the sequel. Kail will frustrate you much less there (and me too, I hope).

Thanks to Gaspode, for your analyses. I'm glad you've enjoyed the story, but I'm more glad to hear how it has affected you. Yes, it's been very doom-and-gloom at times, especially towards the end, and it's not always been easy reading. I do hope you keep caring for the characters, and that if you continue reading the sequel, I can look forward to more of your in-depth feedback.

Thank you to Kaana Moonshadow. Reading your story has been inspirational at times. Next to your Bishop, mine doesn't look dark and moody at all. ;) I hope Keri gets the ending she deserves, and in the mean time, I'll try to work on Kail.

Thank you, BronxWench, Dawn Moon, EpitomyofShyness and Calanteli, not only for your feedback, but for your support and encouragement. Hearing how much you've enjoyed reading about Kail has helped keep me going through writer's block and dull scenes.

Thank you to Visceri the Raving Troll (formerly Cryptstalker Visceri, currently Genius The Nobody) for your unique perspective about the less popular NPCs, like Ammon. Hopefully, the almighty Odin will now be satisfied with the ending. Keep your enthusiasm for the underdogs going.

Thank you to you folks who have been good enough to stop by from time to time, or even just once, to leave words of encouragement and a bit of feedback. You are; Caerl, Elvoriel, vivienl, Harmakhis, Trauts, Belgalen, rianess, Catra, Tweezle, Lionpawheart and Aren-Kae. Your reviews, especially in the early days, were greatly appreciated.

And finally, thank you to everybody else who has read Kail's Story. There's either hundreds of you from all over the world, or about 12 of you with really dynamic IPs. I don't know your names, so I'll thank you by country. In something resembling alphabetical order, thank you to readers from: Albania, Argentina, Australia, Austria, Belgium, Brazil, Bulgaria, Canada, China, Croatia, The Czech Republic, Denmark, Egypt, Fiji, Finland, France, French Polynesia, Germany, Greece, Hong Kong, Hungary, Iceland, India, Indonesia, Ireland, Israel, Italy, Japan, Kazakstan, Korea (Rep. of), Latvia, Lithuania, Malaysia, The Netherlands, New Zealand, Norway, The Philippines, Poland, Portugal, Romania, Russia, Singapore, Slovakia, Slovenia, South Africa, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, Taiwan, Thailand, Turkey, The UAE, The UK, Ukraine, The USA, Venezuela and the one person whose country shows up on my stats list as a blank space. I don't know who you are or why FF won't recognise where you're from, but if your country isn't on the list, it's probably you. If you want to be listed too, just drop me a PM with your country of origin, or leave a note on a review and I'll see to it.

= o =

_The curtain falls._


End file.
